Free Far After Gold by Jen Black Page B

One hand to her rib cage, still laughing, she saw Gamel storm out of the trees long before she expected him. Furious and leaking water at every step, he looked ready to commit murder. She and Oli exchanged swift glances and dived into the hall.
    Flane sat at the hearth, but she walked straight to his bed space and sat, her back straight, and her hands folded neatly together in her lap. Oli flung himself down beside her, pink in the face with repressed giggles and Grendel leapt up beside them both and flopped down, forelegs extended, tongue lolling.
    Gamel burst in after them, kept his stony gaze on his bed space as he squelched through the hall. Conversation died down and then broke out again with renewed vigour with a gurgle of repressed laughter beneath it as everyone stared at the wet, lanky figure.
    Emer met Flane’s gaze, and smiled. Oli stuffed his fists in his mouth to stop himself laughing. Flane rose and walked slowly across the hall.
    “What’s happened?” he asked. “What happened to Gamel?”
    “The river,” Emer gasped, torn between laughter and fear of Flane’s reaction. “He fell in!”
    Oli rolled across the bed, and hammered his heels on the mattress.
    Flane glanced from her to the boy and back again. Then he looked over his shoulder at Gamel. She had no idea what Flane thought of it all, but he said quietly, “You should not have gone out without me.”
    Emer’s stomach shrivelled into a small hard nut at his cold expression.
    “We only went for a walk,” she said. “We didn’t go far.”
    “You don’t go for walks.”
    “Why ever not? Flane, I—”
    He grasped her arm and marched her out of the hall. He walked with such long strides it was a struggle for her to keep up. She was breathless by the time he steered her through the fishing nets, barrels and baskets littering the boards of the jetty. Flane shoved her down onto an overturned barrel, propped one booted foot against an upended bucket, leaned his forearm across his knee and glared at her. “What have you done?”
    Water lapped gently beneath the jetty. Gulls swooped and called above their heads. Emer coughed, and looked down at her hands. The urge to laugh had long since disappeared. “I had to defend myself.”
    “Go on.” His mouth had set in a firm, hard line.
    Emer ran a hand through her hair and found she couldn’t because it was still skewered into a bun. She plucked the skewer free and her hair tumbled down her back. Twirling the skewer ceaselessly between her fingers, she spoke quickly, anxious to get the confession over. “Gamel grabbed me on the stepping stones. His hands—he touched me—he—” She hesitated. “It was revolting!” She spat the words out. “If that’s what men do to women I want none of it!”
    “So what happened?”
    “I wriggled free,” she muttered. “We both nearly fell in. I kicked him, and he did.” She looked up. “Fell in, I mean.” She stared up at Flane. “Why are you so angry with me?”
    “You are causing me a great deal of trouble,” he said, his blue eyes hot with temper. She suspected he might beat her for disobedience. Then she noticed how his mouth twitched and when he finally gave up the struggle and grinned, she realised she had been frightened for nothing.
    Instead of feeling relief, she was angry. “I’m so sorry about that,” she said, gazing across the water and refusing to look at him.
    “Sarcasm is hardly good for someone in your position.”
    “My position?” Emer jumped to her feet. A muscle flickered at the side of his mouth, and his brows lifted in surprise. “You put me in this position!” she cried. “I didn’t ask to be here. I didn’t throw myself at you!”
    “I know that!” He frowned along the jetty as if seeking inspiration. “What did you mean just now?”
    Emer’s brows knitted together. “When?”
    “You said, ‘ if that’s what men do to women I want none of it .’”
    “Oh.” A seagull landed neatly on top of a post,