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A whoop went up from the lower tables. Freya went scarlet and fled before he could see how much she liked it.

The noise of the feast faded as they climbed the stairs. By the time they reached the nursery corridor, the pipes were only a distant hum through the stone, and the bairns’ wails had faded into hiccupping sniffles.

Freya pushed the door open with her hip and stopped. “Brigid, go back down.”

Brigid blinked. “Me Lady?”

“Go. Dance. Eat something ye didnae have to cook.” Freya took Archer from her, one twin on each hip. They were heavier than they’d been a week ago. “Ye havenae had one hour to yerself since the day ye met me. I can manage them.”

“Both at once?”

“I’ve managed worse.” Freya nodded at the door. “Go on. And if yer husband asks ye to dance, say aye. He’s been looking at ye all night. He’ll want to get his hands on ye, I imagine.”

Brigid went pink. “Me Lady, I cannae leave ye with both of them. Let me at least help change them.”

“Brigid, I’ve changed bairns before. I have nieces and nephews.”

She sighed. “But Amelia kicks like a wee pony.”

Freya smiled. “I’ve noticed. She’s kicked me a few times.”

“And Archer will try to eat the linen.”

“I’ve noticed that too.” Freya shifted Amelia higher on her hip. “Brigid, ye’ve nae had one hour to yerself and yer family since the day I arrived. Ye’ve fed them and rocked them and walked the floor with them half the night. Ye deserve a dance and a cup of ale.”

“I’m nae here to dance, me Lady. I’m here to help ye.”

“Then help me by going downstairs.”

Brigid opened her mouth, closed it again, and glanced anxiously at the cradles. “At least let me warm the milk before I go. Archer always wakes up for it.”

“I’ll warm it meself.”

“Ye’ll scald it.”

“I’ll nae scald it.”

“Ye scalded it on Tuesday.”

Freya laughed at the memory. “Once, and if I scald it again, I’ll come and fetch ye.”

“Do ye promise?”

“I promise, Brigid. Now, go have some fun.”

She laid the twins down side by side in their cradles. She changed them by the light of a single candle while they kicked and fussed. Then she sat on the floor beside them, exactly where she’d sat the night before, and began to sing.

It was a waulking song her mother used to sing over the loom, about a girl and a boat and a lad who came home from the sea. Her mother had sung it to her and her siblings once, and Freya had not sung it for anyone since.

Now she sang it low and soft, in the voice she never used where anyone could hear. She pictured Evander down in the hall and found that she missed him already.

Archer was asleep before the second verse. Amelia fought it longer, glaring at the ceiling with grim determination, but by the fourth verse, her eyes had drifted shut, and her small fist had come to rest against her brother’s cheek.

Freya stayed there for a while longer, simply looking at them. Then she rose, pinched out the candle, and slipped into the dark corridor, already smiling at the thought of the hall below and the man waiting there.

Footsteps approached her from the shadows, and she tensed, afraid for a moment. But then she realized who it was.

“Callum, ye scared me!”