And all the time, Engus’s eyes were on her, assessing, appraising. For everything had changed. Her uncle had been proud to see her become Rona’s student, proud of what she would be for the Folk. But that was before. Since the sickness, the family was no longer rich in girls. Kinart could not take his father’s place. The royal line was the women’s line; it had always been thus, for such a manner of succession ensured strong blood and meant disputes between kin were few. In the space of a season’s turning, Nessa had become the last princess of the Folk, and it was no longer possible that she devote her life to the mysteries. If the crown were not to pass to the Caitt, Nessa must wed and bear a son: a son who would one day be king of the Light Isles.

SIX

Once he had counted kills. Now he counted days, endless days until they might at last take ship for home. Thor’s voice had grown faint as a whisper, so far away he strained to hear it. These islands were no place for a warrior.

Eyvind had hoped Ulf’s building plans might include a temple. That way at least the rituals might be observed, the sacrifices made. That way at least Thor might understand this was temporary, an exile imposed purely by a quirk of Somerled’s thinking. Soon enough, both longship and knarr would be on the way back to Rogaland, and Eyvind and Eirik would be going home: home to the Jarl’s court, home to a life of honor and pride, serving the god with axe and sword. But Ulf had built no temple, and there were no rituals. Eyvind was obliged to call on Thor as best he could from lonely shore or desolate rock or open field. I am your right hand! Do not forget me!

Others were of different mind. Hakon had lost no time at all. Perhaps he could not hear so well anymore, but that had not slowed his other faculties. With remarkable promptness, he had moved out of Ulf’s settlement and into the isolated cottage of a comely young widow with two small sons. And, Eirik commented with a grin, by the look of the widow’s burgeoning figure, another infant was already on the way. Hakon looked as sleek and content as a well-fed cat. They took wagers on who’d be next to move out; Thord was top of the list. His lively slave girl had him wrapped around her little finger, and it was common knowledge that she preferred her man to be close to home, where she could keep an eye on him. It wouldn’t be long before this battle-scarred warrior succumbed to her coaxings and put aside his sword in favor of a plow or fishing net.