When she used that particular tone, he had to look at her. Her expression pierced his heart: the wide, grave eyes, the lips half-smiling, a little hesitant.

“I talked to Rona before, while you were sleeping,” she said. “We spoke of many things, yourself included. In particular, we spoke of a promise I made, coming here: a promise given in return for aid with the making of the harp, and its safe delivery to this hall. That was no easy matter, you understand.”

“What did you promise?” He forced the question out.

“That I would guard the mysteries as priestess here in the islands. And that I would guide my people as the last of the royal line. Two promises, really. So I was left with a problem. The two do not really go together very well. This was the reason I asked Rona’s advice. Promises are not to be broken, not when given so solemnly.”

Eyvind was unable to speak.

“I asked Rona, must I choose? And how can I choose, when both vows must be kept? In the preservation of the old secrets lies our people’s very being; without that sacred trust, the heart of the islands withers and dies. Yet how can we go on if the royal line falters to an end? How can the Folk endure without true leaders? My child, and only mine, is the heir by blood. Without him, the people have no hope of the future. It is an impossible choice. Surely the wisest woman in the world could not determine what was right.”

She paused. Eyvind held his breath.

“Rona laughed,” said Nessa. “Then she asked me if you and I hadn’t made this choice already?”

He breathed again. “But—” he said, his head reeling.

“Perhaps she knew it from the look in my eyes: from the way I spoke your name. She’s a shrewd old woman. She said…she said…” Nessa faltered suddenly, her cheeks flushing scarlet.

“What did she say?” asked Eyvind gently, as a smile began to curve his mouth, a grin of pure joy in which the pain of bleeding gum and bruised lip were of no account whatever.

“She said, the child I carry now will be a girl, for the mysteries; and the next must be a boy, for the islands. But I don’t think I want our son to be a king, Eyvi,” Nessa added soberly. “I just want him to have a life of gladness, and purpose, and peace. That’s as much as any of us needs.”

The turmoil of feeling made it hard to form coherent words. “A child—you are telling me—?”