It was dead of night when the women finally returned to Ravensthorpe.

Valdis was utterly exhausted, and her still wet clothes made the chill air feel even colder. They had sailed back to town using the ships they had taken from the bandits, full of loot to share back with the Raven clan.

Valdis dragged her feet across the meadhall, heading toward the guest chambers. The children were sleeping beside their father, who had one arm draped over them as he slumbered. Valdis's eyes softened at the sight. Part of her wished Oswald was awake; it would have been good to steal some sweet kisses from him after dealing with the ugliness of the past days. Valdis gladly removed her boots, belts and leathers to put on some dry clothes for the night, slipping under the furs as silently and carefully as possible. Despite her efforts, Eohric stirred, rubbing his eyes with chubby fists.

"Ma… Mama?"

"Shh, hjartað mitt," Valdis said, brushing the fine blond hair on his brow, "go back to sleep."

Eohric scuttled closer to whisper at her ear, "You're back… does that mean you beat the bad men?"

"We did. They will not bother us anymore. Eivor will be happy to tell you about it in the morning. But now it's night, and your mother is tired, Eohric. We should be sleeping."

"Would you sing me a song, Mama? Papa tried to sing, but…" He dropped his voice even lower to add, "He sang badly."

Despite the dim lighting of the room, Valdis could see his little pleading face looking up at her. Eohric had been blessed with his father's pretty blue eyes—and as such Valdis was absolutely unable to refuse him anything whenever he made that expression. She sighed. "Of course, dúllan mín."

Valdis hummed her son's favourite song as he cuddled with her, laying his head over her heart. Eohric took his double roles as prince and big brother very seriously, declaring to all who would hear him that he would defend East Anglia (and his little sister) from every threat that would seek to do them harm. On rare occasions, however, he was simply happy to be Valdis's precious little boy.

By the last note, he was soundly asleep. Valdis kissed Eohric's brow, then little Eivor's dark curls, and finally the tip of Oswald's long nose; that was the only part of her husband she could reach without waking the two children nestled between them.

In his sleep, Eohric kicked Valdis in the belly, and she winced slightly. Then, her eyes widened in the darkness. When was the last time she had…? She made a quick calculation in her head. Oh, she thought, could it be so simple? She'd been so lost in the chaos of preparing for their trip to Ravensthorpe (wrangling a crotchety old man, a stubborn brother and a fussy husband in addition to two small children was not an easy task) that she had simply forgotten the count of the days.

Valdis smiled, patting her stomach. She would share the good news with Oswald in the morning, then. And with this sweet thought, Valdis of East Anglia drifted to sleep as well.

Through the open doors to the guest chambers, Ljufvina could see Valdis snuggling with her husband and their little ones.

The sour taste of bitterness filled her mouth at this simple sight. It was hard to look at the young couple and their children and not see another family instead. A soft-spoken husband with fair hair and a kind smile. His dark-haired wife, more inclined to the fighting arts than to diplomacy. And two children, bright and beautiful, to build on their legacy.

Ljufvina grit her teeth, looking away. Gods, how pathetic was she, envying another woman's happiness? Valdis had nothing to do with the harsh fate Ljufvina had been dealt; the young queen did not deserve to lose her husband as well, to be abandoned by her children as they sought their own path.

No, Ljufvina had to stop dwelling on such bitter thoughts. She had lived a life that many would envy; she had been born in a proud and powerful tribe, had travelled far and wide across the world, and had made a good marriage and raised strong sons. True enough, Ljufvina's story could probably inspire a skald or too. She nearly let out a laugh at the thought.

Tearing her eyes away from the young family, Ljufvina made for the corner of the meadhall where she had put away her belongings. Someone had already prepared a cot and some furs for her. Ljufvina sighed as she undressed herself, hating her sore muscles and stiff limbs. Now she felt like a woman her age. Once she was in her sleeping shift, Ljufvina rummaged through her pack for three objects that she put a small stool near her cot.

There were two figurines made out of a walrus's tusk: her parents, who were now resting with the spirits. And one she had carved out of wood, in the likeness of Hjorr. Ljufvina removed her silver bracelet, the last gift she'd received from her husband, and placed it in front of the effigy.

"Good evening, my dear one," Ljufvina said, in the language of her foremothers; she knew Hjorr understood her since he had learned her native tongue out of love for her. "I hope you are well, in the golden halls of Odin. I am in good company as well, with our friends of the Raven clan."

Ljufvina pressed a hand to her heart, feeling the familiar burn of that hole in her chest, the one left when Hjorr had been torn from her. "Today was… today was a good day. Today I felt alive. It's a strange thing, isn't it? To only feel alive when you are fighting for the right to draw a breath…" She laughed. "It was a good reminder. It made me realize I am not yet ready to join you, my love. There is still so much I wish to do. I felt the call of adventure today—and I've realized I wish to answer it still. And our sons… those stubborn, idiot boys. Grown men they are, yet they're nowhere near ready to take on your duties. I'll have to step in and show them how it's done. As always."

Ljufvina raised a hand to the figurine, caressing its face. "We will talk again tomorrow, my sweet king. Please keep a seat warm in the Allfather's hall for me, will you?"

She slept more peacefully than she had in many, many moons.

By the entrance of the longhouse, Birna watched Ljufvina carefully, ale horn in her fist.

The woman was speaking in soft tones to an effigy made in wood—and it did not take all of Odin's wisdom to figure out why. Ljufvina must have missed her husband fiercely. At the realization, something twisted in Birna's heart, souring the taste of the ale in her mouth. Birna nearly let out a curse, hating this feeling, this… weakness seizing her every time she tried to turn and face the ugly, foul thing that had been left rotting inside her when Soma had been ripped from this world. Freyja's tits, but Birna was tired of this. People moved on—Swanburrow and that round belly of hers, Ljufvina smiling and laughing despite her pain, even Eivor, ever perfect Eivor who was soon going to wed the love of her life—everyone save for Birna, who was stuck whining and drinking and feeling miserable for a woman who had never been truly hers.

With a low curse, Birna turned away and left the longhouse, heading for the docks. The night was cool, refreshingly so, and the moonlight gleamed on the calm waters of the Nene. Birna sat at the end of the pier, taking another swing of ale. Her chest was still clenched painfully, and her head felt heavy, hundreds of thoughts abuzz in her mind like a swarm of flies over fresh horse shit.

Her hands started to shake in inept, shameful rage. She thought of Eydis's admonishment. Of Tekla's disappointment. Of Eivor's pity. But then she recalled the rush that had burned through her veins when they had been fighting those bastards back in Utbech. She remembered the battle banter, the camaraderie between fellow warriors, the shared thrill of victory. That had been what had drawn her to Soma and her band, to Eivor and the Raven clan. Gods, how she had missed those moments! Birna had almost feared she would never feel that way again.

In spite of herself, she felt a smile tugging at her lips. She remembered Soma—the woman as she had been, not that pale, broken corpse lying on the cursed grounds of Cippenham. Soma dancing on a table to the delight of her drengir, Soma extending a friendly hand toward a frightened Saxon child in Grantebridge, Soma, fierce and beautiful on the battlefield, her warriors trailing after her like her own personal army of Einherjar.

Yes, Birna's beloved Jarlskona had been larger than life in every aspect of her being. It must have been why her love could not have been contained to a single person—indeed, how could Birna have competed with the whole of a city?

The hand that gripped the ale horn stopped shaking. Soma had not been hers, at least, not in the sense that Birna would have wanted, but she could not deny that their fates had been intertwined; the threads of their lives had been woven together by the Nornir in all of their wisdom. Soma and Birna had loved each other, in different ways, certainly, but the love they'd shared had been true, and Birna deserved to mourn her much like Swanburrow mourned her little swan, much like Ljufvina mourned the father of her children.

Birna deserved to mourn—and she deserved to move on. Soma would have wanted it that way.

Birna heard the soft crunch of gravel under someone's boot. She turned to see that Petra was watching her by the side of the barracks. The huntress was not approaching—but she was not moving away either. Despite the dim light of the torches, Birna could clearly see Petra's frown.

And what a pretty frown it was.

"Hej, huntress!" Birna called. "Come sit with me!"

Petra hesitated for a moment. Then, to Birna's delight, she went down the pier, taking a seat next to her.

"What are you doing, Birna?" Petra asked. "Why are you here?"

Birna grinned, lifting her ale horn in an unsaid answer. "I could ask the same of you. I'm surprised that you are still up after the exertions of the day."

Petra shrugged. "My brother says I'm a night owl."

"Ah, a disciple of the lady Nótt, much like me!"

"If you say so," Petra answered.

"You're very handy with that bow, you know. By Hel, I would say that you are even more talented than Eivor on that front."

Were Birna's eyes deceiving her or had the huntress's cheeks darkened with a blush? Gods, did that mean Petra was shy when offered a compliment? What a delightful thing to know…

"I'm not japing!" Birna continued, amused that the other woman would not even look at her. "You handled yourself well for your first raid. Why, perhaps you should accompany us more often!" She scoffed. "You'd be better company than that halfwit Rollo, for one."

Petra managed to glance at her. "Perhaps," she conceded.

Birna hid her smile behind her ale horn. It was not much… but it was a start.

While Randvi changed into clean, dry clothes, Eivor sat with Leofe in the war room.

The girl had been utterly silent on the way to Ravensthorpe. Surely she was wondering what Eivor meant to do with her. The admiration Leofe had shown at the sight of the interior of the meadhall had quickly dissipated, and now she was as skittish as a cornered animal. Eivor's mood darkened as she tried to imagine what kind of life she must have led. What betrayals she must have experienced to leave her so wary of anyone she met.

Finally, Randvi emerged from their chambers. To Eivor's delight, she had let her hair loose on her shoulders. How she longed to run her fingers through that red mane! But of course Eivor had to be patient; Leofe was still fixing a careful, cautious stare on her.

"So," Randvi began, addressing Leofe, "how are you, child? Do you need anything—a drink, some food? I've asked our friend Sunniva to prepare a place where you can sleep. Do not worry. You will be safe tonight."

Leofe's eyes were big—and filled with incredulity. "Why? Why are you doing all of this? What do you want from me?"

"Why would we want anything from you?" Randvi said with a slight frown. "You need somewhere to rest and recuperate. Once the dust has settled, you can choose to go wherever you wish. You are our guest, not a prisoner."

"You can return home, if that's what you want," Eivor added. "You must miss your family."

Leofe whipped her head to look at her, nostrils flaring with anger. "I don't have a home. Or a family." Under her breath, she added, "Or at least, I don't have a family who wants anything to do with me…"

Eivor and Randvi exchanged a concerned gaze. Leofe watched the interaction with a frown.

"Is that…" she began, giving quick, furtive looks between Eivor and Randvi, "is that her? The woman you said you were going to marry?"

"Indeed," Eivor answered, standing up to put a hand behind Randvi's back. "By this Frjádagr, we will be wife and wife, under the eyes of gods and mortals."

"That doesn't make any sense." Again, Eivor heard a note of dismay in Leofe's voice. "Women cannot marry women. That's not… that's not right."

"Who says so?" Eivor challenged. "And why should I listen to them? What would such wretches know of love?"

"A man and a woman marry," Leofe said, not even meeting her eyes, "for the sake of having a family. Love comes after… if it even comes at all. That's what I've always been taught."

Eivor jutted her chin at her. "You have one life on this earth, child. Is this how you want to live it? Following the precepts of people who will scorn you and hate you no matter how hard you try to please them? Is this a life truly worth living?"

Now, the distress was evident on Leofe's face. "My… my parents, they—"

"What did they do?" Randvi asked, softly.

Leofe licked her lips. Her eyes glistened with tears that she was too proud to shed. "There was… there was this girl, back at my village. Aelflaed, she was named. It… it was just a game, at first. We played in the meadows and held hands as we lay in the flowers. We giggled and told each other love poems. We… we practised kissing. For when our parents would want us to be married, you see? It… it wasn't meant to be serious, it wasn't meant to be… well, anything."

Eivor's hand tightened into a fist behind Randvi's back. The latter tensed as well.

"Go on," Eivor said, rather hoarsely.

Leofe looked up at the ceiling, no doubt to keep the tears from falling down her cheeks. "She wore her name well, Aelflaed. I always said that her blond hair and her freckles were gifts from the elves. She liked that, she did."

Randvi smiled sadly. Eivor felt a dull, distant feeling, a resurgence of memories from when she had been awkward and gangly and unsure, much like this poor girl. That wistfulness was tainted by a flicker of anger; she could easily tell where this story was going.

"Then it all went wrong," Leofe continued, "Aelflaed's father wanted to marry her to a boy from another village. He'd get two cows in exchange, you see? So I took her hand and said we'd run far, far away. The elves would marry us, and we'd be forest wives."

"What happened?" Eivor asked, quietly.

"Aelflaed changed her mind. I didn't mind living in the woods. But she did. She was scared—of beasts, of bandits, of the hole in our bellies. By the third night, she couldn't stop crying. I brought her back to the village. Her parents welcomed her with open arms, but mine…"

Leofe's voice broke, and she could say no more. Eivor walked over to the girl, laying a reassuring hand over her shoulder.

"If you wish, you can have a home here, in Ravensthorpe," she told the child. "And no one will hurt you again, or call you unnatural. This, I swear on my title of Jarlskona. And you know how I keep to my oaths."

"Why would you do this?" Leofe asked, sounding utterly bewildered. "I stole from you. I led you to Beorthric and the others. You and your friends could all have been killed!"

"But we weren't." Eivor clapped Leofe's shoulder. "Think on it and give us an answer when you are ready. But know that I will gladly welcome you to my clan, little sparrow."

Someone cleared their throat at the door. Sunniva was standing in the entrance to the war room, arms folded behind her back.

"I've prepared a cozy corner for our young guest," she announced. Then, Sunniva smiled at the girl. "Leofe, is it? If you follow me, I'll show you where you can sleep."

Again, Leofe looked at Eivor with round eyes full of shock. "I can't… I can't just stay at your village, that doesn't make any sense, you don't owe me anything—"

"You are owed respect and safety," Eivor said. "It is what I have been given by the people of this clan when I needed it most. Tomorrow, we'll speak more of this. For now, just go to sleep. With night often comes wisdom."

"But—"

"Good night, Leofe." And Eivor pushed her out of the war room, prompting a chuckle out of Sunniva. When the scout and the girl were gone, Eivor turned to Randvi. The latter had her arms crossed, one eyebrow quirked in amusement.

"Am I right in guessing that you will not show me the object at the heart of all of this adventure?" Randvi said, eagerly accepting Eivor's embrace as the latter came forward.

"You know you cannot see it before the ceremony," Eivor said, resting her head on Randvi's forehead. "It is tradition. But it will soon rest on your finger where it belongs, my love. I promise it."

Randvi laughed. "Good. At least I know you did not lie when you told Leofe you always keep to your oaths."

Rather than answer, Eivor only leaned forward to catch that smile with her own lips.

"Here," Sunniva said, patting the pile of furs she had laid out for the girl, "I hope this will keep you warm. These summer nights can get rather cold. Do you need anything else?"

Leofe shook her head. Then, she looked at Sunniva with a frown. "How can you tell that I won't just steal from you and run? Why are you all so… so…"

"So altruistic?" Sunniva supplied.

"So gullible," Leofe said, scowl deepening. "You don't know me. I'm no one to you, just a stupid Christian girl who stupidly tried to steal from your chief. You shouldn't trust me. That's stupid as well."

"I think Eivor's impressed by your grit, actually," Sunniva answered. "There's not a lot of people who managed to get the drop on her and live to tell the tale. You should be proud of your talents. I know I'm impressed. I wasn't so cunning and skillful at your age. In fact, with a few years, you could…"

Sunniva stopped, raising her brows. In a few years, Leofe could be a scout of great skill. If she so wished, of course. Regardless of the girl's choice, Sunniva would be glad to take her under her wing. After being treated as worse than a thrall by Beorthric and his band, Leofe deserved to have someone who genuinely wanted to nurse her talent.

"I'm Sunniva, by the way," she told the girl. "If you need anything, come see me. I'll sleep close by, don't you worry."

Rather than answering, Leofe looked over Sunniva's shoulder. Her mouth opened and closed in quick succession. Through the open door to the war room, Sunniva could see Eivor and Randvi kissing… rather passionately. The two seemed glued to each other, even. Leofe was blushing at the sight.

Sunniva cupped her hands around her mouth and called, "You two have a door, now!" Eivor and Randvi broke off their kiss, startled by the sound. Sunniva smirked as they fixed the same indignant stare on her. "Learn to use it, will you?"

Beside her, Leofe only stared, cheeks crimson. Sunniva stifled a laugh at her expression, clapping her on the back.

"Welcome to the Raven clan, girl! Hope you'll enjoy your stay!"

Leofe gave her a dubious look. Meanwhile, Eivor mercifully went to close the door. It was hard to tell from this distance, but her cheeks seemed as red as Leofe's face. Sunniva memorized the sight; it would make good blackmail material one day.