"Nae here. Please." Ada glanced around at the crowded hall. "The gardens?"
Magnus nodded, offering his arm. They slipped out through a side door, into the cool evening air.
The gardens were quiet, empty. Just stone paths winding between bare winter beds and skeletal trees. Magnus led Ada to a secluded corner, away from any windows where they might be observed.
"What happened?" he asked.
Ada wrapped her arms around herself. "I overheard somethin'. Two of the servants, talkin' about—" She stopped. "About yer first wife."
Magnus went still. "What did they say?"
"That everyone kens what ye did. That she was young and healthy and then suddenly dead, and ye wouldnae even hold a proper mournin'." Ada's voice shook slightly. "Magnus, I need tae ken the truth. Before we dae anything taenight, I need tae ken if ye…"
"If I murdered her." The words came out flat. Empty.
"Aye." Ada looked up at him, her hazel-green eyes searching his face. "Did ye?"
Magnus could have lied. Could have told her whatever she wanted to hear to make this night easier for both of them.
But he'd promised himself he wouldn't lie to her. Wouldn't treat her the way Freydis had treated him.
"If ye see me as a villain," he said quietly, "then it daesnae matter what I say. Ye'll believe what ye want tae believe."
"That's nae an answer."
"It's the only answer I have."
Ada was silent for a long moment. The wind rustled through the bare branches above them, cold and sharp.
Then she stepped closer. Close enough that Magnus could see the gold flecks in her eyes, could smell the herb-scent of her hair.
"I dinnae believe the rumors," she said firmly. "I dinnae believe ye're a murderer."
Something in Magnus's chest loosened. "Why nae?"
"Because I've seen ye with yer people. The way ye care fer them. The way ye rushed tae help the sick village without hesitation. The way ye—" Ada stopped, shook her head. "A man who'd murder his pregnant wife wouldnae dae those things. Wouldnae be capable of such... kindness."
Magnus stared at her. No one had said that to him, not since Freydis died. Many—mostly people outside of his clan—had simply assumed the worst, whispered behind his back, looked at him with fear and suspicion.
But Ada, Ada looked at him and saw something else. Something better.
"Thank ye," he said roughly. "Fer believin' that."
"I'm nae sayin' I understand what happened. Or that I dinnae want tae ken the truth eventually." Ada's voice was gentle but firm. "But I believe ye didnae kill her. That's enough fer taenight."
Magnus felt a smile tug at his mouth, the first genuine one in longer than he could remember. "Ye're a strange woman, Ada MacTavish."
"Ada Haraldson now," she corrected.
"Aye." Magnus reached out, tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "Ada Haraldson. Me wife."
The words felt right. Felt true in a way he hadn't expected.
Ada's breath caught. "Magnus."
"We should go back inside," he said quietly. "Before they come lookin' fer us."
"Aye. We should."
