Erlendur sat beside his newly wed bride, Torvi, not having looked at her for near hours at this point. It was his own wedding feast and yet he cared not.

Torvi held her newborn son, the son of her first husband Jarl Borg. Not Erlendur’s.

Erlendur had yet to bed Torvi tonight or any time soon. He was too focused on you as you stood in the further back of the longhouse, the chatter of the wedding feast becoming a blur.