She released his hand. He didn’t seem to be able to move. He knelt where he was, staring at the ground, full of shame at his own weakness, full of sorrow at what could never be. Nessa was silent a little. When she spoke, her voice was both gentle and sure.

“Eyvi,” she said, “listen to me. There’s no saying what tomorrow may bring for us. Maybe flight, maybe captivity, maybe death. I can’t tell you about that. All I can tell you is what I’m feeling now. I have never lain with a man; I thought I never would. But my body’s aching for you, it has been this long time. I don’t want to die without holding you in my arms, flesh to flesh; I don’t want to leave this world without doing what a man and a woman do when they love each other. That’s all I can say, dear one. Of course, if you think it’s better that we don’t—”

A sound came out of him, somewhere between an agonized groan of pent-up desire and a snort of astonished laughter. An instant later, she was in his arms, her lips soft on his, parting for him, hungry for him, her hands were making patterns of sweet fire against his skin, and they lay down together on the wolfskin and forgot the world for a while in the fierce joy of coming together. She was new to this, and Eyvind’s desire so strong it threatened to rob him of all control. He had thought Signe beautiful, with her lush figure and her fair wholesomeness, and so she had been. But this girl, birch-pale, willow-supple, her long brown hair a tantalizing, silken shawl half-revealing the sweet small curves of her, this lissome woman was his heart’s delight. She was his Bright Star, his joy and fulfillment. And he blessed Signe now for the skills she had taught him over those long nights in Freyrsfjord: how to be slow and careful, how to wait, how to make sure he did not hurt her. Such restraint took strength; he found that strength within himself, and it was only when Nessa cried out beneath him, her body trembling in the moment of fulfillment, that Eyvind let himself plunge over the brink into the darkness of his own pulsing release. They slept close-folded, arms wrapped around each other, legs entwined, breathing as one. Once or twice in the night they stirred, each moving a hand across the other’s skin, stroking, touching softly, making quite sure this was not just another cruel dream. And once Nessa whispered,

“Eyvi?”

He stirred, not fully awake. “Mmm?”

“I think this is the first day of spring,” she said, and slept again.

His eyes snapped open. In an instant body and mind were aware of danger. Here, inside, was the warmth of Nessa still sleeping, folded in his arms. There, outside, Guard was barking a frenzied warning, and men were raising their voices to be heard over it.