“What does that have to do with anything?”

“I’m fairly certain…quite a bit.”

“No. It doesn’t. Because the point is—the vial was still full, which meant it hadn’t been used, which means I didn’t kill Bampour.” Ragnar was willing to play along. “If you didn’t kill him…who did?”

“Some naked blond girl who was in his room when I got there.”

“I see. And what happened to her?”

“I threw her out the window.”

“Of course you did.”

“Don’t worry,” the foreigner tossed in. “I caught her and set her gently down.”

“See?” the female said.

“See what?”

“I rescued her. Saved her life. And yet they wanted to execute me.

How is that fair?”

Ragnar nodded. “Let’s pretend you’re not lying.”

“What?”

“I’m not sure why you would rescue a murderess.”

“Well, she was only doing the rest of the world a favor.”

“I see.”

“He was not a nice person.”

“Uh-huh.”

“He had to die!”

“And why is that? Did he not give you enough…things?”

“Oh, but he did.” She touched the necklace around her throat. “He gave me this.” She touched the bracelet on her wrist. “And this.” She touched the earrings. “And these…oh, wait. No. He didn’t. That son of his did. Shame the little blonde didn’t get a chance to deal with that one too.”

Ragnar gestured to the jewelry. “I’m surprised they let you keep all that.”

“I don’t think they’d planned to. But after I ate the dog, they refused to come near me except to put on the chains.”

“Keita!” the Blue blurted out while the foreigner laughed.

“I was hungry! I hadn’t had first meal, they wouldn’t give me anything to eat, and…and that dog tried to bite me! It was very close to self-defense!”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

“You,” she said to Ragnar, “can just be quiet.”

“All right, all right, all right,” the Blue cut in. “Let’s forget all that.

The important thing is, you’re safe.” The princess smiled at that until her brother added, “And you can travel with us back to Garbhán Isle.”

“Oh.”

Ragnar leaned back against a tree, his arms crossed over his chest, and watched Her Royal Majesty try to work her way out of this. Because he knew, just by the look of panic in her eyes, she was desperately trying to work her way out of this.

“Garbhán Isle. That’s an option.” She glanced at her foreign friend, but he didn’t seem to be in the mood to help her either. “And…why don’t I meet you there? At some point.”

“Meet us there? Why can’t you come back now?” her brother asked.

“I have something to do?”

“Is that a question or an answer?” Ragnar asked again, and the glare he received would have lacerated a lesser male.

“But what about the feast?”

“Feast?” She shrugged. “There’s always a feast, Éibhear. Our family does love a feast.”

“But it’s to celebrate the twins’ birthday. I mean, I missed the first one because I was in the heat of battle—”

Ragnar briefly but quickly moved his gaze to the ground after he heard Vigholf snort.

“—so I can’t miss this one. But I guess since you did go to the first one, I could explain it away to the family.” Perhaps Ragnar was watching her too closely, but the way her face became perfectly blank, her brown eyes wide as if she was afraid the truth could be read there, had him asking, “Why don’t you tell us about that first feast, my lady? All the details. Down to the last dessert.”

“I don’t really—”

“Oh, come on. You must remember something. And I’ve always wondered what a Southland celebration is like. For instance, what was the human queen’s gown like?”

“Gown? I doubt she wore—”

“Doubt?” Ragnar asked. “Don’t you know?”

Gods. Did she just hiss at me? Yes! I think she just hissed at me!

“You didn’t go?” the Blue asked.

“Éibhear, I was quite busy. I didn’t have time.” The Blue’s eyes narrowed, and he studied his sister for a long, painful moment. “When was the last time you were home?”

“The Southlands are my home, Éibhear. And I’m always—”

“Don’t play with me, Keita. When was the last time you were at Garbhán Isle or Devenallt Mountain?”

“When you look at how long we live, time is such a transient thing.” Ragnar began to have an uneasy feeling, clearly remembering the look on the princess’s face when he’d released her. Not when she’d stabbed him with her tail—although that moment was etched into his memory until his last breath—but before that. When he’d told her the queen had offered nothing for her daughter’s safe return. True, royal anger eventually took over everything, but before that, he’d seen pain on her face. Acute pain.

Having grown up with a father who enjoyed picking his other sons over “that weak, strange one” for important Horde business, Ragnar knew how much a careless action from a parent could hurt their offspring. He’d realized later that the queen had said such things because she’d known, as only a true witch could know, that Ragnar would never harm her daughter.