Chapter Eight
Marion awoke alone, which neither surprised nor disappointed her. Looking out the window she guessed it an hour past sunrise. She dressed quickly due to the morning chill and found her way downstairs.
The alehouse was almost empty. Two old men clung to sleep near the hearth, while a skinny girl cleared the debris of the night before. When Marion entered, the girl scurried up and bobbed, her eyes downcast. “Laffite told me to take care of you, mistress. Would you like some breakfast?”
“Yes, thank you,” said Marion, ravenous. “Whatever you might spare.” The girl curtsied again and hurried out. No one had curtsied to Marion before. She liked it.
She sat at a window table and looked out onto Brummagem’s streets, surprised at its bustle so early in the day. Some men walked to
