[ She... just can't stand that. The more eagerly and the more amiably he calls Haran a master the more it worms its way under her skin. She slaps a palm down, leaning closer to him. She herself was an amiable girl, it had always made her a good choice for leading strangers up to the House to meet their deaths. She'd smile at them with her basket full of flowers and promise to introduce them to her sisters, over dinner. But that was when her sisters yet lived, when her mother and grandmother were still here, when she was still able to see her father and her brothers. She can still smile like a pretty girl, but there is sharpness to her now.
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Her voice lowers, ]
Men are not masters in this house.