“I’ve had enough of ye,” she said, almost hoarse. “I thought ye were my friend, Freya. But ye have no friends, do ye? Ye are too selfish for them.”
That was another insult Laird McInnes had thrown at his daughter, day after day, year after year.Selfish. Ye are selfish. A waste of breath.
It was easy to believe a thing when people kept saying it with such conviction.
Kyla stepped forward, her round face determined.
“That’s enough, Freya,” she said, as firmly as she could manage. “More than enough. Ye won’t speak to Senga that way, do ye hear me? Apologize right now, or else?—”
“Or else what?” Freya snarled. The words were bubbling up again, as if she could destroy herself and everybody around her, as if she were spewing fire.
No, not fire.Venom.
Kyla drew herself to her full height. “Or else ye can leave. That’s right, I said it. Ye can pack up yer things and go. Our convent offers shelter to everybody, but not unconditionally. Ye must show that ye deserve our charity. Ye must begrateful.”
Freya gave a sharp laugh. “Grateful? Grateful for what? For scrubbing floors, and eating the plainest food in the world? For sleeping on a hard bed in a drafty cell, and being lectured by nuns and stupid wee lassies who couldn’t possibly fathom what the real world is like?”
“And yedoknow what it’s like, do ye?” Astrid spoke up, her tone neutral. “Here I was thinking that ye had lived a privileged life in a Keep, with a laird as a father. We weren’t always at this convent.”
Freya gave a bitter laugh, rounding on Astrid.
“Who are ye to tell me what’s real and what’s not? Haven’t ye been here since ye were a babe? Ye wereabandonedhere, Astrid. Ye act all timid and calm because ye are too afraid tobeanything. Have ye ever wondered who ye truly are, or how ye came to be here? No, I imagine not.”
“Ye must stop this, Freya,” Kyla begged, trying to take her hand. “Ye are upset, and tired, and probably hungry. Let’s just take a breath, calm down, and then…”
Freya yanked her hand free. “Don’t tell me what to do! Oh, don’t think I don’t haveyermeasure, Kyla.”
Kyla flinched back, looking genuinely afraid.
Stop,pleaded a small, clear voice at the back of Freya’s head.Please, stop this.
She couldn’t stop. Venom spilled out from her, full of anger and bitterness and jealousy. The words just kept coming.
“Ye bury yerself in books because the real world scares ye. Who are ye, who are any of ye, to judgeme? I know why ye love secrets and stories. It’s because yer own life is an empty book, and ye are too afraid to fill it, afraid that ye will die a blank page, with nothing more interesting in yer head than the words ye have put in it. And ye should be afraid because that is exactly what is happening to ye!”
Astrid took one smooth step forward, and Freya turned to face her.
She never saw the slap coming.
Crack.
The noise echoed around the silent room. Freya jerked backwards, pain blooming over her face. She lifted her hand automatically to her cheek, the skin already reddening.
The others seemed frozen in time. Kyla’s eyes were like saucers behind her spectacles, mouth a silent “o” of surprise. Senga had her hand clapped over her mouth. Freya was sure thatshelooked almost comically surprised, and more than a little horrified.
Only Astrid’s expression had not changed. She shook out her hand carelessly, holding Freya’s gaze.
“Ye won’t talk to my friends that way, not around me,” she said, her voice light and almost calm. “I can’t help but think, though, Freya, that ye are glad I stopped ye.”
Freya said nothing, clenching her jaw. She’d never been slapped. Never.
I deserved it, though.
“Ye shouldn’t have done that, Astrid,” Senga whispered. “We’re not permitted to hit each other. It’s one of the Abbess’ golden rules.”
“Freya can go and tell tales if she wishes,” Astrid responded, still holding Freya’s gaze. “Or she can leave. She’s welcome to leave, and she’s not pleasant to have around at the moment. Are ye, Freya?”
“Ye had no right to hit me,” Freya mumbled, still reeling.
