When there were only a few small patches of snow left in the nearby mountains and a constant chorus of birds returning from the south, a large party came to visit Gittenurg. Dozens of haggard-looking men on horseback and several large wagons wound along the muddy path that twisted from the south, through town and towards the north.

Fyrrah’s father must have run from his fields to the east, for he was nearly out of breath when he greeted the newcomers. He tended to the party’s horses, leading them first to water and then to a fenced pasture for grazing. Many of the townsfolk greeted the travellers, offering up endless flagons of strong wine and asking about news from the south as the riders stretched their legs and arched their backs in an attempt to soothe the stiff ache that came with riding a great distance.

Mira thought nothing of this and spent her day much like any other: tending to Halvar, playing the harp, and enjoying the taste of spring in the air. But in the early afternoon, as she sat at the hearth humming to her son, she saw Fell returning from his work.

“HA!” He charged forward and jumped on one of the newcomers with childish glee. The man had blue-green stains up his neck and the sides of his face. From a distance, it looked like two snakes were winding their way up his head.

“Fell!” the man shouted in a voice as deep as booming thunder. He cupped the side of Fell’s face as he spoke. “It is good to see you again.” Is he Fell’s father? Fell had never spoken to Mira about his parents.

The giddy men pressed their foreheads together in greeting and laughed with joy.

“I have good news.” Fell motioned for Mira to come forward, taking little Halvar out of her arms and handing him to the man with the stained cheeks.

“A son!” the man cheered. “I am happy for you. He is strong. Ha! He is heavy!” The man lifted the child up over his head, laughing. “He will make for a good wrestler.”

“Halvar Fervynd,” Fell said, his face beaming with so much pride that Mira’s heart swelled. To see someone she loved glowing with so much happiness was a tender gift; she could not take her eyes off Fell for many moments.

“Hal-var Fer-vynd,” the man repeated slowly, savouring the taste of each sound. He turned to his travelling companions and barked, “Bring me more wine! We will drink to the child!”

They drank to Halvar and many other things, including “the skirts of Dülle,” and most people were deep in their cups by the time a few brave stars were beginning to take their stand in the sky.

Mira had never seen Fell take so much wine and was a little in awe of how balanced he stayed. She gathered that the man with the face stains was named Arik and that he and Fell had known each other for a long time. But Fell never referred to him as father.

Perhaps his uncle?

The man asked Fell many questions about his life and seemed genuinely pleased with all the answers, shouting louder and louder the more wine he took. In one way, it was sweet to watch Fell recount his recent moons and laugh with an old friend, but in another... Mira felt it strange that he did not introduce her to the man. As she played around with possible reasons for this in her mind, she heard them discussing her.

“Show her to me!” the man shouted, and Fell called for Mira. The man stood when she walked near, his eyes wide with interest.

“Soten,” he nodded and lifted his cup to her.

“Not soten,” said Fell. “Norsen.”

Arik laughed. “Of course not.” He reached out to Mira and beckoned her closer with the flick of his fingers. “Come here, child, I do not bite.”

Mira came nearer the man and saw his face in more detail. He was older, his hair greying around his temples and on the edges of his beard. Despite this, he seemed strong and sturdy, and his wolfish eyes glowed brightly—like those of a much younger man.

“You speak the Northern tongue?”

“Yes,” she said.

A mischievous grin spread across the man’s face. “Do you know who I am, child?”

Mira shook her head, and he laughed again. “No, I do not suppose you do! If Fell spoke of me, it would surely be a pile of clams.”

“Forgive me; I do not know your meaning. What is a pile of clams?” Mira was now able to tell when the Northmen used one of their strange phrases and when something was not meant to be literal, but she hadn’t heard this one before.

The man laughed even harder, bending his knees and hips with the force of it, slapping a hand on Fell’s back. “I will let Fell explain that one later.” When he recovered from his fit, he smirked and said. “Child, I am Arik, king of all the North.”

Mira was a little embarrassed to have spoken so casually to a king and somewhat annoyed with Fell for not warning her. Arik looked much like the other Northmen—no crown, a worn leather jerkin and faded furs. “Forgive me, your Grace, I did not know.” She curtsied, an old habit from home.

“Your grace?” The man snorted and quickly became lost in hysterics. “See!” He shouted to everyone around him. “See! What have I told you! Southerners know how to treat a king!” His laughter came to an abrupt end, and he grew still, his silver eyes boring into her skull. “But you are not just any southerner, are you?”

Again, Mira didn’t know his meaning.

“You are a lady from a fine clan.”

Mira didn’t answer. She felt uncomfortable being read so easily by the man.

“Which house? No, wait! Do not tell me.” He stroked his beard with wide, playful eyes as he studied her. “Not from the eastern shore... from the midwest. Danton?”

“No, your Grace.”

“Wexlyn?”

Mira shook her head.

“Which one?”

“Um... Arcliff, your Grace.”

The king laughed. He laughed uncontrollably for many moments. None of the other Northerners seemed to understand his laughter meaning everyone else was standing awkwardly, looking unsure. Again, King Arik slapped Fell on his back, trying to speak through his resounding howls. “No wonder… Ha! No wonder the fuckers are coming at us so hard! You stole… Ha! You stole the fucking lady of Arcliff!”

The king wheezed out a final gruff laugh before his eyes narrowed. “Who was your husband?”

“I was unmarried, your Grace.”

“How old were you when Fell dragged you across the sea?”

“Sixteen, your Grace. But it was not Fell—”

“If I am not mistaken, it is very unusual for a southern lady to be unmarried at sixteen, no?”

Mira was somewhat taken aback. The man seemed to know a lot of the southern ways. “It is your Grace.”

“You would not be lying to me now, would you, girl?”

She shook her head.

“You were betrothed at least?”

She nodded.

“To whom?”

Mira did not know if she should lie or not. She didn’t know if she could lie. What if the man knew which lords were unmarried? What if he knew all of the families back home? “To Sir Loric, of clan Terrowin.”

“Ha! Fucking Terrowins! You were promised to… ha!” None of the Northmen understood any of this conversation, and so again, none of them caught Arik’s laughter. Standing alone in the crowd of stoic men laughing made the king appear mad.

Fell looked deeply confused, and Mira realized how much she had not told him about her life before she came to the North. But he never mentioned he was good friends with the king… Mira didn’t even know the Northmen had a king. Arik laughed and laughed.

Fell frowned. “What is lad-eh?”

“It is hard to explain,” Mira said.

“You stole the daughter of a man with a great army, who was promised to a man with another great army. It is nearly as if you have taken her right out of his bed.” Arik’s eyes were wild and shiny. “Why did it have to be her? Farmer’s daughters, kitchen wenches sure…but a lady of Arcliff with ties to Terrowin? This will be a grand fight, and however it goes, it will be all your fault.” The king laughed so hard that he did fall over. Others began to laugh, too, as the king repeated his earlier sentiment with exasperation. “Why did it have to be her?”

Fell shrugged. “I liked her; she plays good music.”

“Come!” The king motioned to Mira and Fell and a few of his companions. “Dine with me tonight! And tell the girl to bring her bloody instrument.” He did not stop laughing, not even as he disappeared into the shadows of the tent which was freshly set up for him.