and I move to the window to hide my hurt, peering through the cracks in the horn slats at Unwin, who is staring at the door, outrage etched across his face. When I turn back to Silas he’s seemingly staring at his hand, though it’s impossible to tell with his stupid hood covering his face. His posture seems stiff with unhappiness, and the set of his mouth, the stark, humourless line of it, makes my stomach clench unhappily.
“Well, that was clever,” I snap. “Tell me, how does your neck support the weight of so much idiocy?”
Silas’s head jerks upwards. “Excuse me?” he says, his voice rising with bewilderment.
“You. Why not stick your knife in his gut? It would have been less antagonistic.”
He takes a deep breath. “I was trying to help.”
“By winding him up?”
“I don’t like bullies. And I didn’t like the way he spoke to you. Or looked at you. I couldn’t stay out of it, Errin. I couldn’t.”
That takes the wind out of my sails, my heart giving a great lurch in my chest before I recover. “You should have left when you had chance,” I say, but the sting is drawn.
“I know.” He speaks softly, his voice a hoarse whisper. “But I wasn’t going to stand there and listen to him talk to you like that.”
My stomach twists in a way I don’t like one bit. “I can handle it,” I say evenly.
“Why didn’t you tell me you owed him money?”
“Because… It’s nothing to do with you. I had it under control.” He huffs softly and I scowl at him. He shrugs and turns his head, until he’s facing the room where my mother is. In the heat of the moment I’d forgotten about her. And night is falling…
I walk over to him, planting myself between him and the door. “Now, I don’t want to be rude, but I have chores to do. Here—” I move to the fireplace and pluck the florin from the pot there, adding it to the three he paid me for the henbane. When I go back to him I stand closer, forcing him to step back to keep the distance between us. “I’ll have to get the rest to you later.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. Look, if you like, I can stay, in case he—”
“No!” I cut him off, praying the volume of my voice hasn’t woken my mother. “Silas, I meant it when I told Unwin my mother was ill. She’s resting, and I don’t want to disturb her, so…” I hold the money out, but he ignores it.
“You don’t have to lie to me, Errin.”
“What do you mean?” I freeze.
He speaks slowly, carefully, as though to a child. “Look at this place. The clothes hanging up over there are yours; I recognize them. The bluish smock is what you were wearing when we first met. The green is the one you had on when—” He stops, biting his tongue while I clench my fists with embarrassment. He carries on hurriedly. “There’s one cup to be washed, one bowl and spoon too. There’s one pallet, next to the fire. One of everything. So unless your mother is resting through there –” he nods at the locked door “– nice and far from the fire, and she keeps all of her utensils and her clothes in with her, then I’d say it’s pretty obvious that you live here alone.”
“I don’t—”
“Stop it.” He starts to pace, his boots too loud against the floor, and worry begins to tingle along my shoulders.
“It’s not that…”
“What kind of mother would allow her daughter to wander the woods by herself?” He ignores my protests. “What kind of mother would allow her daughter to brew poisons in her home? And sell them to keep the roof over her head? I was standing right beside you a moment ago, Errin, when the landlord came looking for rent and expected it from you. Neither you nor Unwin mentioned your mother until you needed an excuse to turn him down. In fact you never mention a mother. You’ve told me about your father and your brother, but that’s it. And I’ve seen no one else come and go from here, save you, since I arrived. I know you’re alone here. I’ve always known. I’m not asking you to tell me anything else, but stop lying to me about that. It’s pointless. You know I won’t take advantage of it.”