Hagen snorted at that comment, his face away from his cousins. “And I could grab the oar before it hit me, shoving you out the other side of the boat. It’d be easier to row then, wouldn’t it, Paden?”
Jowell snorted. “One thing I know about you, Hagen, is that you’ve never been a fool. I could swim there faster than you and Paden could row, and without me, you’d have to row harder, not less.”
Paden and Hagen hooted and whistled over that brag.
Hagen was about to throw another taunt his way, but they were close enough to be overheard by anyone on shore, and there was one truth he’d learned after coming to Mull. Voices carried a long way over water.
As they neared the isle, Magni was the first to greet them. He flew down the path from the village, arms waving. Wee Tenney ran behind him, but Magni stopped near the edge and picked him up, the two waving as the vessel slid through the water. Magni, ten summers old, had moved here after being saved from a kidnapping. His parents had since adopted Tenney, an orphan of two.
“Greetings, Hagen and Paden and Jowell! Why are you here? We have so many visitors this day.”
“Aye, aye, aye,” Tenney echoed.
Once they settled the boat, Paden reached for the lad and swung him up onto his shoulders, changing his pace into a bouncing gallop. The boy giggled, grabbing onto Paden’s auburn hair to steady himself.
“And who else is visiting, Magni?” Hagen asked, tying up the boat. “We’ll be here for a short visit, if that’s not an inconvenience.”
“Brynja and Hildi are here. They brought bread, and I love bread. They’re chatting with Simone and Artan.” He pointed toward the archery area.
Hagen glanced at Jowell, arching a brow. He’d gladly visit with Brynja again. She was one of the prettiest lasses he’d ever met. “We’ll chat with Simone too. Could you lead us to them, Magni?”
Jowell snorted. “Sure, that’s who you wish to see, Hagen.”
He kept his gaze forward. “I was given instructions to make sure Simone and Artan were invited. Uncle Logan insisted, if you recall.”
“Invited to what?” Magni asked.
“A Yuletide celebration. We’re inviting everyone to a big festival on the first two days of Yule. You’ll come, will you not, Magni? Bring Tenney and your parents.”
Magni stopped, looked up at the clouds overhead, then shook his head. “Nay, sorry.”
“Why not?” Jowell asked. “Are you mad at us, lad?”
“Nay, I just don’t wish to leave Iona.”
Hagen stopped and gripped Magni’s shoulders. “Now, Magni. You know we’ll protect you, do you not? Who could have a chance of getting to you with the three of us surrounding you?”
“But I was stolen from Duart Castle once.” The lad’s messy brown locks blew in the wind, but the fear in his eyes was unmistakable.
“Good point. Because of that, we locked that hidden door in the cellars, and I promise there will be more guards. And Kelvan is gone.” They’d ended the evil bastard’s reign of terror not long ago, but apparently his memory survived in the lad’s mind.
Magni heard a voice and pushed away from Hagen to run toward a smaller group chatting nearby.
“Can’t blame him,” Jowell said. “I’d think the same.”
“I know, but the bastard is dead.”
“What else can we say to convince him?”
“Later,” Hagen muttered, wanting to approach the group quickly.
Brynja was practicing with her weapons, and he’d discovered that his new favorite pastime was watching her practice.
Especially in those tight leggings Simone had given her.
Hagen nearly stopped in his tracks, so affected by the vision before him. Brynja stood next to Simone, firing at a target. First she threw her spear, hitting dead center, then she picked up herbow and nocked an arrow, striking the target again—though not quite center.
Artan let out a low whistle. “Two right on target, Brynja. Nice. You’ve learned archery quickly, lass.”
