“Twins,” Ulf said. “A son and a daughter. Safely delivered, but her labour was long. Tormod is very pleased, although I can’t imagine why. From what I have heard, there is always one of them awake.”
So that was why Aoife’s visions had not been able to tell her whether she carried a boy or a girl. Aoife would be relieved her gift was not failing her.
“How is Einar?” asked Arne.
“He could have done with you here, Arne,” Ulf said.
Gemma felt another twinge of guilt that it had been her fault Arne was not there to support his foster son.
“He has not taken the news well?”
Ulf shrugged. “It is hard for him. He idolises Tormod, you know that. And when you were not here… Well, he has been quiet. He realises he will never have the same place in his father’s affections as these children.”
“But he knows I—”
“He knows his mother was ultimately responsible for your scars, Arne. He is also very aware that Tormod does not love him and when he needed you, you were not here.”
“I did not know I would be gone so long. And…”
“Just talk to him.”
“Do they have names?” Gemma asked.
“I believe Aoife and Tormod are still arguing over that.”
“How long will it take Ylva and Björn to agree on a name, do you think?” Arne asked, and he and Ulf laughed.
“They have a name already,” Gemma said.
“They do?” Ulf glanced at her.
“Hrafn. After the ravens which followed us when we sailed back to Car Cadell after Björn was injured.”
She thought she felt Arne’s grip tighten around her as she spoke, but then decided either she had imagined it or else it had been because of the horse’s movements.
“Another son named after a bird,” Arne muttered.
“If it is a boy,” Gemma replied, attempting to diffuse the tension in the air.
“If Ylva thinks it is a boy, then it will be. She is not one to let the world dictate to her,” Ulf said.
“But surely that is not the sort of thing—”
“With most people I would say no, but Ylva is one of a kind. Not many women become warriors, never mind a great one. Yet I know many men who would not relish the prospect of fighting her.”
“I wish I were more like her,” Gemma said.
“You already are,” Arne said so only she could hear. “I’m sorry, I should have let her teach you how to fight.”
Gemma tried to turn her head to look at him. “Now that you are sure I won’t use those skills to kill you as you sleep?”
“When I sleep from now on, I will not be thinking about you killing me. And you should be able to defend yourself,” he whispered.
“Oh.” For a moment, she thought he might have changed his mind, but it was clear he hadn’t.
Every step brought them closer to Kirkjaster and her leaving him. She wished time would stop, right now, so she would always be here, safe with him. But it wasn’t possible.
“We’re here,” he said as they rounded a corner on the path. She turned to see Kirkjaster in front of them. Maybe it was just because of the weather, but there were few villagers visible and a strange quiet about the place. Björn and Ylva approached, tensionvisible in their bodies. Bjorn was holding Ylva close against his side—unusually, she was letting him.
