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Assuming they actually have any that will put up with them.
The tavern fills with laughter and off-key singing as the find new ways to celebrate, and I catch a glimpse of Mistress Wrotham’s wide grin out of the corner of my eye. She watches from a distance, not having to directly interact with any of the fools herself, her eyes shining with her greed.
Tonight must be bringing her plenty of coin.
“Buy you a drink, love?”
I glance down to my left, taking in the swaying drunk who stands there. His face is beet red, his bloodshot eyes barely able to focus on me. A a sloppy smile tugs at his thin lips, pulling them thin across a set of rotted teeth.
The stench of stale alcohol wafts from him in waves as I take a small step back.
“No, thank you,” I answer politely. “I’m not allowed to drink while I’m working.”
“Don’t worry, love,” he says, waving off my words. “No one’ll know. We’re celebrating, you should be too. You’re safe from the beasts!”
I say nothing as he sways in place before his eyes start to roll back in his head. For a moment, I think he’s about to fall, and I debate whether or not I should attempt to save him.
Before I have a chance to decide, he suddenly lurches forward.
His eyes meet mine a split second before his palms flatten over my chest. A yelp of surprise escapes me as his cold hand tries to dive beneath the neckline of my dress. I know that I shouldn’t react. That I’ve dealt with far worse over the years, but I can’t help it. Not today.
I only allow myself to hesitate for a second longer before I pull myself free, my hand stinging as it connects with his cheek.
Hard.
“Do not touch me,” I hiss at him as he stares at me in shock.
“You, ungrateful bitch,” he spits, rubbing the sting of my slap from his cheek.
As if summoned by the slap, Mistress Wrotham is suddenly at my side. Her face is stern as she grabs my elbow and yanks me back.
She doesn’t so much as look at me as her nails bite into my flesh. There’s no chance to explain what just happened before she’s dragging me from the loud hall toward the backroom.
I can feel the eyes of the cooks, Mary, and the other women on me, but no one says a word as Mistress Wrotham throws open the door leading out to the alley. She tosses me out with surprising strength, leaving me sprawled across the broken cobblestone.
“You are no longer welcome here, girl,” she tells me. “You have embarrassed me and harassed my customers for the last time. Now, be gone before I have to set the city guard on you.”
The door slams in my face as I scramble to get to my feet, the sound of a lock moving into place.
My hands shake as I blink at the door. It takes my brain a moment to realize that not only has she thrown me out onto the streets, but she also didn’t pay me for the day.
The few coins I’m owed are enough to get me through until I can find a new tavern to work in. Tears sting the backs of my eyes as I bang my fists upon the door.
“I’m owed my coins,” I shout.
I bang my fists upon the door until they sting, but it remains closed.
Frustration sets in as I finally step back. I’m not getting my coins, and the sooner I accept that the better off I’ll be. Sighing, I wrap my arms around myself only to realize I’ve lost my cloak too.
“My cloak, I need my cloak!” I yell, but still nothing.
Biting back a swear, I turn to head back to my little hole above the streets. Hopefully from there I can figure out my next move.
At the very least, I can get some much-needed rest. Perhaps, if I’m lucky, Mary will notice my cloak and set it aside for me to collect tomorrow.
As I walk slowly toward the opening of alleyway, I freeze as I suddenly realize the street ahead is full of towering men with grim expressions.
I’d nearly forgotten that the wolves are still here.
