Somerled’s lips tightened. “You are more brother to me than he ever was,” he said. “And yet you turn against me. In your efforts to destroy me, you will only destroy yourself. You said I didn’t understand what this meant. But you’re the one who doesn’t understand.”

“Maybe not. You always called me stupid, muddled. Perhaps it’s true. All I can tell you is that if you continue to follow this path of slaughter, destruction, and fear, I will fight you to the end, blood oath or no. Good folk have perished here, folk who were slain for no reason, save that you wanted what was theirs. A treaty was broken, the rules of right engagement callously disregarded.”

There was a pause. Somerled’s fingers toyed with an ale cup, rolling it against the tabletop. “And the girl died,” he said eventually. “That’s what this is all about, isn’t it?”

“What girl?” Even to himself, Eyvind’s voice sounded strained.

“The princess. The little priestess, Engus’s niece. That was a pity. I liked her. And I suspect you did, too; weren’t you hiding in that place where the island witches brewed their potions? I suppose you fell for her, though I did think your tastes ran more to the buxom, fair type. But there can be no other explanation for your sudden insanity. She could never have been for you, old friend. She was far above you, a bride for royalty. Well, that’s of no account now; she’s gone. Never mind, there are several others to choose from, though the best we captured are already taken. I’ll give you first pick of what’s left.”

Fury quickened Eyvind’s breathing; with difficulty he held his features calm. “I don’t want a woman,” he said.

“What do you want, Eyvind? Why have you allowed yourself to be brought back here? Tell me.”

Eyvind swallowed. “A fair hearing, that’s all. Let me put forward the truth as I know it, call witnesses, present evidence before a Thing, or whatever assembly you wish to convene. Give me the usual time to prepare my case. I will accept the judgment of worthy men.”

“You? Prepare a case? Oh, dear, Eyvind. This time on the run really has addled your wits.”

“It is possible,” Eyvind said, “that truth may outweigh the cleverest arguments. I may be muddled and stupid, but I understand that. Are you afraid of the truth?”