Free Nobody's Lady by Amy McNulty Page B

hurt by it then, but it hurts thinking about it now.” He sighed, his eyes darting between Alvilda and Siofra. Siofra couldn’t meet his gaze, but Alvilda stared, daring him to say more. Master Tailor waved a defeated hand, dismissing them. “I don’t mean I want Siofra back. I didn’t have a choice to love her, you know.” He tapped his fingers across his forehead as he paced back and forth before the fire. “But I can remember things. My own sister , Siofra, like I wanted to know what was going on between you. Like I was nothing but a messenger without a brain. But I remember what you had me say to her.”
    I clapped my hands together. “Okay, Nissa, why don’t you help me clean up?” I looked across the fire. “Luuk?”
    Luuk practically jumped up but stopped himself, his eyes wandering between Nissa, his mother and aunt, and his father, clearly trying to figure out who was least likely to cause him discomfort. And he wasn’t having an easy time deciding.
    Master Tailor seemed to notice the pause, and his attention drifted between Luuk and Nissa. He grabbed Luuk by the arm and pulled him upright. “No, Luuk’s had enough of that. We’re leaving.” He looked at me. “Thank you for the dinner, Noll. It was great. Thank you for opening your home to Jurij, who is a grown man and can do as he damn well pleases.” His extra emphasis was clearly not meant for me. “Tell him he can come home to me if he gets tired of the quarry.” He looked back at Alvilda and Siofra. “Or of women in general.”
    I decided to let that last comment slide, given the situation, but some women couldn’t.
    “Coll!” Some of Siofra’s usual stubbornness came through.
    “No, let him go.” Alvilda slipped an arm around Siofra and pulled her to her chest, roughly, more boldly than I’d ever seen her do before. “Let the man whine and see what good it does when the work still needs doing. Let him see that it’s not so easy to think for himself and take on responsibility when someone isn’t commanding him.”
    “So, Nissa,” I spoke quietly, turning to see how the poor girl was handling it. She was clinging to Bow and trying to peer around my legs at the path Master Tailor and Luuk were cutting through the grasses, the shortcut that would take them to the Tailor Shop at the edge of the village.
    “Oh, for—” Alvilda peered at the northern road to the village, tossing a hand in the air and then cradling her forehead.
    Four figures ambled toward us, still some distance away. They were dancing. No, they stumbled every few steps, their arms swinging wildly up and down, their hands clutching mugs. In the quiet, all I heard was the crackling of the fire, Bow’s heavy snoring, and the unskilled warbling of the four men.
    Alvilda moved around the fire to grab Nissa by the forearm, much as her brother had done to Luuk a moment beforehand. She looked at me. “Thank you for the dinner, Noll. It was great.” Wow, two barely-contained-rage-filled compliments for my cooking . She peered over her shoulder. “Siofra?”
    Siofra looked down the path, worry hidden behind the deep creases in her forehead. “He’s drunk.”
    “He’s a fool. And we’ll have no part of it.” Alvilda tugged Nissa along after her, and Siofra shuffled behind. “Tell him he can come home to us if he gets tired of acting like an idiot,” Alvilda called to me over her shoulder. “Or like a man in general.”
    The three of them passed right by the dancing group, not even turning their heads to greet them.

 
     
    The young man I wasn’t too familiar with—the one with lips that seemed permanently puckered—poked Sindri in the chest, again and again. “Have I told you about my wife’s mornings?” He had his arm around Sindri and was practically dragging him to the ground beside the fire.
    “Former— former wives,” slurred Sindri. His eyes were glazed, his attention focused on the ground.
    “Former,” repeated puckered-lips. “Every morning,