“Uhhhh . . . no. None of that seemed to bother him. In fact, he understood.”

“Understood what? That you have this rabid desire to protect every female you’ve come in contact with?”

“Actual y . . . yes. Yes, he does understand that.”

Rhona laughed and bit into another piece of meat.

“You should be more positive about al this,” he told her. “I’m sure it’l al work out fine.” She stopped and gazed up at him. “Why would you think that?”

“One of us has to be positive,” Vigholf explained while he kept walking. “Or we’re both dead.” Keita grateful y took the goblet of wine her friend offered her and moved over a bit so that he could sit down beside her, their backs against the wal of the staircase that led to the castle bedrooms.

“It’s disturbingly quiet, my friend,” Keita remarked after sipping her wine.

Ren nodded. “I know. The Tribesmen would have had these territories wel scouted before they came here. They wil hide someplace and ready for their next attack.”

“We should have taken the children, these idiot witches be damned,” she said again, earning her a glare from one of the nearby Kyvich. Keita’s response was to stick her tongue out at her like a three-year-old.

“I could have gotten past the Kyvich, I think,” he reasoned. “But not your mother. And you won’t like hearing this, but I think she had a point. Run now, and the children wil be running forever. Might as wel teach them now to make a stand.”

“But if something happens to them and I didn’t warn my brothers . . .”

“The children wil be fine. They couldn’t be better protected.”

“I guess.”

“What else bothers you, Keita?”

“I’ve tried to contact my brothers, just to—”

“Check on Ragnar, who you are deeply in love with but stil refuse to admit it?”

“Whatever. But they don’t respond.”

“I think we won’t be hearing from them until this is al over.”

Keita looked at her friend. “Why do you say that?”

“From the beginning, before the children were even born, the gods have been involved with this family, Keita. I don’t know why you al seem to fascinate them so, but there you have it. And I think cutting off lines of communication between us keeps this rol ing along.”

“You think one of the gods sent Annwyl into the west, don’t you?”

“Would it real y surprise you? Annwyl may have her moments, but wandering off into the west to martyr herself to anything . . . ? I haven’t known that woman long, but that’s not Annwyl.” He took the goblet from Keita and took a sip. “No, my friend. I’m afraid the gods are playing their games . . .

and we’re al caught in the middle.”

“I must say, Ren. I’ve become quite annoyed with these gods. I mean . . . other than to make me so enticingly beautiful, I have no idea what their real purpose is. Do you?”

Ren laughed, kissing Keita on the scalp and handing the goblet back to her. “No idea, Keita. None at al .” They found a place to get a few hours’ sleep near a stream for fresh water, a cave should they need the shelter, and someone’s livestock roaming around.

Ful from al the lamb he’d eaten, Vigholf leaned back against his pack.

Rhona held her hands out. “Let me see that.”

Vigholf held up his hammer. “This?”

“ Aye.”

He tossed it to her and she caught it in both hands. “Why would you choose something so heavy and cumbersome?” she asked.

“Heavy? My old one was heavy. This one that your father made? Light as a feather.”

“This is not light, Northlander.” She stood with the hammer, but stumbled a bit.

“Sure you just don’t need some help with that, weak female?”

“I’m fine, thank you very much. It’s just that I knew I shouldn’t have had any of that wine we got in town. But I needed something to silence the screaming in my head over what we’re being forced to do.”

Gods, she was adorable, swinging his warhammer around. Even if she didn’t like the weight, she stil handled it wel .

“Now a hammer . . .” he told her. “That’s a weapon. A weapon for adults anyway.”

“Leave off me spear. It had served me wel until you destroyed it.”

“It was an accident!”

“Of course it was.”

“I hear sarcasm,” he complained as she stood over him and dropped the hammer on his stomach. “Ow! Evil wench!” Rhona laughed and sat down next to him. “I’m not nearly as tired as I should be.”

“Good. Then perhaps you can explain Annwyl to me.” And Vigholf adored how wide Rhona’s eyes grew.

“Why not ask me to explain water? The air?” she demanded.

“I don’t understand.”

“You ask me to explain the unexplainable. Annwyl makes sense to no one. A bastard daughter of a monstrous tyrant, she should stil be living in the peasant vil age her father dragged her out of. I mean what monarch wants his bastard daughter around when he already has a proper son as heir? She’s also the sister of an even worse tyrant who sold her off to another tyrant so they could unite kingdoms. She should be married to that second tyrant with a few royal heirs to make everyone happy. But she never even reached the wedding and ended up destroying the brother who’d tortured so many.”