Torden was taller than his dark-haired brother by half a head, his arms the size of the other boy’s legs—but Aleksei struck first. Anya scooted close to Skop and me as they went around, their armor and the faint sheen of sweat on their foreheads gleaming in the sunlight.

“Won’t Torden flatten him?” I asked her. “He’s so much bigger than Aleksei.”

“It’s not so simple.” Anya flashed us a grin. “Torden is not just strong—he is focused, and fearless. He works very hard, and he always makes the bold choice.”

“But?” I prodded.

“But this isn’t a wrestling match, and Aleksei is fast and tricky—creative,” she said. “He isn’t afraid to dance around or retreat when it will catch Torden off guard. He isn’t afraid of looking silly or cowardly, if he wins.”

Hermódr, sprawled nearby, nodded in agreement. “Still, you would beat him more often if you trained more, Aleksei.”

“He’s right, brother,” Torden called. “Skjerp deg. Some discipline would do you good.”

“Is Aleksei lazy?” I whispered to Anya.

“Famously,” she hissed back. “He has not made it to a single morning run in two weeks!”

I groaned again, remembering the boys had put in a full day’s work before I’d shown up to breakfast.

Torden glanced over at my voice, and Aleksei surged forward, spotting the gap in his focus. “Too much practice makes you predictable,” he snapped.

The tip of his sword was aimed at Torden’s stomach.

Torden snapped back to attention and just barely blocked the attack, metal screeching against metal. I wrapped my arms around my legs, cringing as his arms strained, forcing Aleksei’s blade away. Then, in a blinding flash, Torden threw his brother off and brought the point of his own weapon to Aleksei’s chest. They were finished.

Elation flashed beneath Torden’s nonchalance as I whooped with the others, congratulating them both while they stripped off their armor. But resentment flickered across Aleksei’s face as he sat down in silence.

“Should we go for a ride?” Bragi asked eagerly.

Please, someone else say no.

I tried not to sigh audibly with relief when Anya held up a hand. “Relax. Let’s eat something.”

“Is it lunchtime already?” Skop asked.

“No.” Hermódr helped himself to a large serving of bread and brown cheese. “But have some brunost, anyway. Aren’t you hungry?” Skop grunted in concession, and Anya passed around more food and a leather canteen.

We lay in the grass for a while, the boys joking and horsing around as though their full morning hadn’t wearied them at all. Anya braided tiny flowering weeds into a crown for herself, then wove one for me. I beamed at her as she tossed it over my hair, but she and Skop were lost in conversation.

“This is pretty,” he said quietly, running a finger along her glittering necklace.