Once in her room, Esther closed the door, leaning against it, her hands curled into fists. She wanted to smash something. Wanted to show Elvera what a barbarian was really like. It wasn’t someone who downed the last of their wine in a single mouthful. She could hear the sound of fist meeting flesh echoing in her memories. The muscles in her arms tensed as she recalled fights. Both ones she’d lost and those she’d won.
She shouldn’t let the woman get to her. Nor did she expect Elvera would fight her own battles. Norman would be called upon to do that. Just like he was called upon to pour the wine and take barbarians shopping. She closed her eyes, trying to forget the anger. Barbarian. It wasn’t the first time she’d been called that. A teacher had that honour. He hadn’t asked what she was fi
