“Calder commanded a fearless raiding party of valiant warriors. He was obsessed with finding new lands to explore, new treasures to steal, and new women to have. His appetites were so great that he raided all year round, even in the winter when his men had to hang off the edge of his ship and hack away at the ice with their axes. One day, Calder heard tell of a great treasure in the dwelling place of Egil... you know of Egil?”

“The god of mischief and illusion.”

“Precisely.” The king’s grey eyes sparkled, and Mira decided he was the type of man who had fun telling stories. She set herself on looking as intrigued by the tale as possible so as to please the man, for, in truth, she was still a little frightened of him. “Some say that it was a humble fisherman who told him of the treasure, others say it was an owl, but regardless, Calder knew that Egil would try to trick him should he seek out the hoard. Still, he could not quench his desire for the treasure, so he made his way there. As he neared the island, he passed a beautiful woman swimming naked with the whales. He fished her out and had her by force before throwing her back into the sea. In shame, she held onto the body of a whale as it swam deep below the surface. She did not let go until she had drowned.

When Calder reached the dwelling place of Egil, he found a mountain of treasure guarded by the god himself. ‘What must I do to earn this treasure from you?’ Calder said.

‘Only a fair trade will persuade me to step aside, and only one thing in the world is worth this mountain,’ Egil answered.

‘Tell me what it is, and I will find it for you.’ Calder was willing to go to the ends of the earth and back for such a large reward.

Egil smiled wickedly. ‘There is a woman who swims in the sea near this island. She is protected by Valla, so I cannot touch her while she is in the water. But once she is on land, Valla’s protection will be lifted. Bring her to me alive, and I will give you what you seek.’

Calder sailed back to the place where he’d fished the woman out of the sea and found her body floating, lifeless. When he pulled her aboard, he knew she was dead, and he knew his actions had led her to kill herself. He knew that he had prevented himself from plundering the greatest treasure the world had ever known. Calder went mad and attacked his shipmates, stabbing and slicing until they banded together and ended him.”

The king paused to let the story settle before he continued. “Do you know why I tell you this tale?”

Mira shook her head.

“Because I am Calder, and you are the woman swimming in the sea. I do not know how you will aid me in the wars to come, but I know that Egil has placed you here to test me. You will leave Gittenurg with me and my men tomorrow. I will not throw you back into the sea.”

Mira’s throat felt blocked as if a large ball of moss or stone sat inside. The king’s mild amusement had faded. His stare was hard and loud. It said: you have no say in this. For most of her life, Mira had been told what she was to do, and so she knew better than most when an order could be pressed against and softened and when instruction required unquestioning obedience. It was a mismatched response, but her heart felt sore. Of course, she thought. Of course, I would not be free forever. That is not how the world works. At this point in her life, there was not much fight in her. Later, some would say there was too much fight, but at this time, she was as easy to lead as a blind beggar.

In a single year, Mira had been betrothed. She had been kidnapped and taken to a foreign land. Her father died, and Dayne became Lord. She’d given birth to a son, and she’d fallen in love. Each time I become accustomed to a new way, everything changes. She was frustrated with herself for not being used to it yet. I had just found peace again.

“You can go now,” Arik said with mild indifference and the flick of his wrist.

Mira stepped outside to find Fell leaning against the fence, just as beautiful as ever. She also saw Jorn pacing back and forth with his hands behind his back. The moment the tent flap was closed, Arik’s echoing voice could be heard from within. “Jorn!”

The king’s soothsayer entered the tent.

As they fetched Halvar and headed home, Fell asked Mira many questions about her meeting with the king, but she didn’t answer any of them. She waited until they were back in the tent with Halvar feeding peacefully before she recounted the conversation.

Fell listened, but his eyes were unfocused as if he were thinking of something else entirely.

When Mira was done, he shrugged. “Then we go with Arik.”

“I have a bad feeling. Do you trust this man?”

“Yes.” Fell paused and then laughed. “And no. I trust that I know him, that he will do what I expect him to. And I expect that if we do not go with him, we will not like what he does. He is not used to being refused. He is like a child this way, having tantrums.”

“What do you think of him?”

“Uhh... he is a complicated man,” Fell said. “In some ways, the very best of men, but in others he is hopeless and because of this, terrible.” Fell shrugged. “Besides, I owe him my life. How can I refuse him?”

They packed up their belongings that night. It took almost no time; they owned so little.

And then the hour came when Fell and Mira needed to make their goodbyes. Myret gave Mira an array of tonics, herbs, and potions, explaining what each one was to be used for in case Halvar fell ill.

“You will fare well,” Myret promised, a knowing confidence in her vibrant blue eyes.

Fell stayed with the healer for a long time, breathing from her flute and speaking in the old words.

Dania was the hardest. Both girls tried not to cry, but they did. The little boys didn’t understand this was a long goodbye when Mira hugged them, and it made her heart even heavier. She and Dania held each other’s babies and wept and spoke of their love for one another, promising all sorts of things that would be done when Mira returned to Gittenurg, pressing their foreheads together as the Northerners did when they greeted or parted with someone they loved.

Mira visited with Sigyn Speartooth some as well. She thanked him again for all that he’d done even though she still wasn’t sure if what he’d done was good or not. She asked Toke to remind Sigyn of her from time to time when he was feeling his lowest. “Tell him I told you to say that I was grateful. That because of him, I have a life that is my own.” Toke promised he would do as she asked.

And then there was Rowan. He’d seemed fully Northern until the moment Mira told him she was leaving but broke instantly. He wanted to know where she was going and for how long.

Mira had no answers, so Rowan ran to Bjinn and Tellir, begging to go with her, promising to return whenever she did and continue his work. They refused.

“I am sworn to serve her. I must go.”

Tellir shook his head.

“Then I will no longer work.”

Tellir shrugged. “Then you will die.”

Fyrrah came from the hearth when she heard the confusion and watched for a few moments before pulling Mira aside. They had never spoken before, and it was uncomfortable in more ways than one. Fyrrah’s skin glowed as if the moon itself lived within her face; her eyes were more silver than grey—even her teeth seemed brighter than other peoples’. Mira wanted to be irritated by the girl’s beauty, but she could not be. Fyrrah’s eyes were wide with concern, and the corners of her mouth moved around nervously.

“You are Mira,” she said. “I have heard many things about you.”

I know about you as well, did not feel like the right thing to say in response.

“I have been saving,” Fyrrah said. “Bjinn has already agreed—for eighty silver, he will free Rowan. I have fifty-two.”

Mira thought of the many baskets she weaved. “I have the rest.”

They counted their coin together. Mira had only a single piece left when they reached eighty, and, in that moment, Fyrrah and Mira became deeply bonded. Any awkwardness between them from Mira’s shared past with Rowan was dissolved by their mutual care for the boy and the freedom they had acquired for him. Neither girl could have done it alone, and both of them knew it. Rowan was free, and the couple went to pack their belongings; they would come too. Fyrrah cried when she said goodbye to her father. As a parting gift, he gave her two of his best horses.

After everything was said and done, Fell was still breathing the flute with Myret. He was asking her questions, that much Mira could tell. They were not done until long after Mira had given up trying to stay awake.

When Fell returned for their last night in the tent, Mira had already slept some and been woken by Halvar’s hunger.

Fell wrapped himself around her and laughed. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered.

“What were you talking to Myret about?”

“My path, yours, and Halvar’s.”

“What did she say?”

“I thought you did not like these things?” he teased. “She said not to tell anyone what we spoke of, but still, I will repeat one thing. In the smoke, we saw Halvar grown. He was a great man, strong and brave.”

“How did you know it was him?”

He laughed again. “I knew.”

Mira fell asleep quickly after Halvar did. But when he woke her again to feed, she saw that Fell was not asleep. He held the child in his arms, watching him, deep in love. And when she woke again in the morning, she found Fell had not slept at all.

“You must be exhausted.”

“A little, but I am very happy.” He lay down beside her after Halvar was settled and whispered, “Skael can be so cruel. I had thought of staying here with you, just like this, for all my days. I thought of training and raiding no more, and only when I am old and close to death taking up the axe one last time, but the gods have told me no. They do not like this plan.” He laughed. “They never like any of my plans.”

And so Mira, Fell, Halvar, Rowan, and Fyrrah left Gittenurg with the king of the Northmen, a soft, eerie wind floating through the trees.