Ada descended the stairs on Magnus's arm, her heart hammering so hard she was certain everyone could hear it. The hall was loud—men's voices raised in laughter and argument, the clatter of cups and plates, the crackling of the fire.
And at the high table, four men who looked like they could break her in half without trying.
"Easy," Magnus murmured near her ear. "They willnae bite."
"That's nae comfortin’."
Magnus's hand tightened on her arm, steadying, grounding. "Come on. Let's get this over with."
They approached the high table. The four jarls turned as one, and Ada felt their gazes land on her like physical weight.
Harald was tall and lean, with pale gold hair and gray eyes that seemed to miss nothing. Ragnar was broader, built like a stone wall, with cropped pale hair and a face that might have been carved from granite. Ivar was dark-haired and sharp-eyed, watching her with obvious calculation. And Erik?—
Erik looked exactly like the rumors said. Tall, broad-shouldered, with cold gray-blue eyes and an expression that suggested he'd seen too much blood to be impressed by anything.
"Lady Ada," Magnus said formally. "May I present Harald Alvsson of Lewis, Ragnar Ketilsson of Uist, Ivar Gunnarsson of Mull, and Erik Thorsen of Skye."
Ada forced herself to curtsy. "Me lairds."
"Nay need fer that," Erik said, his voice surprisingly mild. "We're nae at court here."
"So, we heard," Ivar added with a sharp grin, "that Magnus is in trouble fer tryin' tae refuse ye on the dock."
Heat flooded Ada's face. "Ye heard about that?"
"Everyone heard about that," Harald said dryly. "Brian sent messengers tae half of Scotland complainin' about Magnus's stubbornness."
"I wasnae stubborn," Magnus said. "I was cautious."
"Ye were bein' a fool," Ragnar rumbled. It was the first time he'd spoken, and his voice was deep enough to rattle the cups on the table. "The lass is clearly nay threat."
"Thank ye?" Ada said uncertainly.
A woman appeared at Erik's elbow—small, dark-haired, heavily pregnant. She elbowed Erik in the ribs. "Stop loomin’. Ye're scarin' her."
"I'm nae loomin’."
"Ye're always loomin'." The woman moved around the table to Ada, her smile warm despite the wariness in her eyes. "I'mClaricia. Erik's wife. And I ken exactly how ye're feelin' right now."
Ada felt something in her chest ease. "Ye dae?"
"Aye. Less than a year ago, I was standin' where ye are. Terrified out of me mind, wonderin' if I'd survive the week." Claricia took Ada's hand. "But I did. And ye will too."
"She's right," Erik said, and there was something in his voice—pride, maybe, or affection. "The first few weeks are the hardest. After that, it gets easier."
"Or at least more predictable," Harald added.
"Or at least ye stop expectin' them tae kill ye in yer sleep," Ivar finished.
Magnus made an exasperated sound. "Ye're nae helpin'."
"We're nae tryin' tae help," Ivar said cheerfully. "We're testin’ her. See if she can hold her own."
Ada straightened her spine. She could survive this.
"I can hold me own just fine," she said. "And if ye're waitin' fer me tae faint or cry or run away, ye'll be waitin' a long time."
Silence fell over the table.
