Hours and days raced by like clouds over the Lysefjord as we hiked, ate, picked strawberries in the woods like children playing a massive game of hide-and-seek. The others didn’t care what we did as long as we were together, and much as it shocked me, I didn’t get tired of their company.

What surprised me more, though, was that none of the boys seemed to notice how close Skop and Anya were becoming within the larger sphere of our group. I said nothing, since they were only talking. Until, one day, they weren’t.

We tramped through the woods in twos and threes. Sweat beaded on my forehead and under my clothes, though the air was cool.

“Cloudberries are my favorite,” Torden said, “but they grow later in the summer.”

“What do they taste like?”

“Sour. But they are delicious with cream.”

“Yes, heaven forbid you sweeten anything,” I grumbled. I switched my bucket to my left hand. Its handle left a sulky red crease in my right palm.

Torden nudged me. “If you want honey, all you need is to ask.”

“It’s never on the table. I don’t want to be a bother.”

“That is why our teeth are so strong. The drengs aren’t allowed sweets.” He grinned at me meaningfully. “Well, most sweets.”

I laughed. “Torden, that was a terrible pun.”

He stepped in front of me, eyes warm, only inches away. “Then why can’t you stop smiling?”

Just then, I caught movement in my periphery. I flushed and turned, expecting to see Anya or one of the other boys running over to say they’d found more fruit.

I did not expect to see Skop’s mouth fixed on Anya’s, her hands trapped in his shiny black hair.

But my mortified giggle broke off when Torden’s face went abruptly dark. “Anya!”

They pulled apart at once. Skop reddened and grinned good-naturedly. But Anya’s fair face went ashen, blue veins standing out in her forehead.

Anya knows what is expected of her, Torden had said.

I thought of Bear pretending to be my guard as we fell for one another, of Captain Lang’s advice and Sir Perrault’s threats.

How well I knew the distance between knowing and doing what was expected of me.

“Skop, we need to speak.” Torden’s voice was grave. He emptied all the berries I’d picked into one of his buckets, lifting it with ease, and brushed my hair off my shoulder. “I will find you later,” he said to me somberly, and together he and Skop made for the fortress, leaving Anya and me faltering beneath a dense silence.

“Please, do not say anything to the others,” she said heavily.

“I wouldn’t.” I shook my head. “But—why?” I’d overheard Aleksei and Torden’s conversation, but I didn’t understand it at all.