"Aye, well. At least me neck daesnae hurt anymore."
Ada laughed softly. "Because ye're finally sleepin' properly."
"Because I have ye here tae distract me from the pain."
The words hung between them, casual on the surface, but weighted with something deeper.
Ada settled against him, her head tucked under his chin, his arms wrapped around her. The blankets were tangled between them, but she could feel his warmth anyway.
"Magnus?" she whispered.
"Aye?"
"Thank ye. Fe savin' me. Both times."
His arms tightened around her. "Go tae sleep, Ada."
She did. Magnus was there. Holding her. Keeping her safe.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
"I'll be back before midday."
Ada called the words over her shoulder to Isla, who was tidying their chamber. She had to see Mairi—wanted to ask if there was anything else she could do to help with the recovering villagers, and maybe learn more about treating burns since they were rather common around the keep.
The morning was crisp and clear, unusual for Barra. Ada pulled her cloak tighter as she crossed the courtyard, heading toward the healer's chambers.
She'd nearly reached them when she heard it. The unmistakable clash of practice swords, followed by Magnus's voice shouting instructions.
The training yard.
Ada knew she should keep walking. Should go straight to Mairi's chambers like she'd planned. But her feet carried her toward the sound instead, drawn by curiosity and something else she didn't want to examine too closely.
She stopped at the edge of the yard.
Magnus was there, in the center of the packed earth, fighting with Torvald. But unlike when he'd been teaching the boys, now he wore no shirt—just his trews and boots, his chest bare and gleaming with sweat despite the cold.
Ada's breath caught.
She'd felt his body before—when she'd tended his wounds, when he'd held her the night before. But seeing him like that was different. He was all lean muscle and controlled power, his tattoos stark against tanned skin. A serpent wound around his left arm, Norse runes she couldn't read marked his ribs, and his shoulders?—
Ada forced herself to breathe.
Magnus moved like water, fluid, graceful, deadly. Torvald was good, but Magnus was better. He deflected every strike, countered with brutal efficiency, his movements so fast Ada could barely track them.
"Ye're gettin' slow," Magnus said, circling. "What's wrong? Wife keepin' ye up at night?"
"At least I have a wife who wants tae keep me up at night." Torvald grinned, swinging his blade. "Unlike some people."
Magnus's jaw tightened. He struck faster, forcing Torvald back three steps. "Shut up."
"Touchy subject, is it?"
"I said shut up."
They clashed again, wood striking wood with sharp cracks. Magnus's muscles flexed with each movement, sweat running down his spine, his hair falling loose from its tie.
Ada couldn't look away.
