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She sat and raised her cup to me, her voice softer and, perhaps to my wishful thinking, thick with emotion when our eyes connected. “Here is to you and your crew’s safe return, my friend. ’Tis good to have you amongst us again.”

“And ’tis good to be back.” I did my best to keep my expression neutral and free of emotion, yet wondered whether she saw it anyway. Keeping it from my eyes when I gazed at her felt impossible. While I wanted to tell Tove it was good to be with her and her alone again, I knew better. So, I said what she might expect to hear. What her father, Bjǫrn, would have wanted to hear. “’Tis good to be among my Helvigs, for no tribe can rival us.”

“Nor will they ever if I have anything to say about it,” she returned, and we drank before she shared what Astrid said to her via the flames from the distant shores of Scotland.

“I couldn’t say what she meant by us warring when ’tis the last thing I want,” she went on. “Yet I fear, given your news and her new position amongst the Scots, it might only be a matter of time.”

I wished I could tell her not to worry, but aside from not confessing to her how I truly felt about her, I’d never lied to Tove and had no intention of starting now. Her sister hadn’t only married one of King Alexander’s top warriors, Chieftain Declan Mackay, but it seemed she had become good friends with the king himself. Even worse, the king had recruited her to train his warriors in the ways of Norse battle skills lest they ever be needed.

“I suspect you’re right that her warning is related to the rumors I have been hearing.” I mulled that over. “And then there is King Magnús Óláfsson to consider.”

“Ja,” she replied with a sigh. “He who considers himself King of the Isles might very well be a problem.”

No doubt he would be, given that his Croven dynasty had ruled those parts for centuries, yet still, these days, paid homage to the King of Norway. Magnus Óláfsson had been one of the few who had aided King Hákon in his cause to take back Scotland and all her surrounding isles, so it was safe to assume he and Scotland’s King Alexander might very well go head-to-head.

“Yet ’tis not the King of Norway likely to call on us,” I said, trying to seem unaffected by the possibility the King of the Isles might have his sights set on Tove. The Helvigs had taken me in as a child, so I’d seen many things over the years, including her interactions with Magnus when they were younger. “But rather it might very well be King Magnus, who requests our aid, ja?” Careful to keep my tone casual, I looked her way and perked an eyebrow. “And ’tis not outside the realm of possibilities that you might go to him?”

Magnús Óláfsson had visited our tribe when in these parts, and it had been clear, at least to me, that he’d been taken by Tove. Back in those days, I had yet to earn my current position, so I never interacted with him, yet I’d watched the two from afar with envy, if not outright jealousy.

“’Tis not outside the realm of possibilities,” she admitted, seeming to give it some thought not necessarily with nostalgia in her eyes but fondness, mayhap. “As you know, we struck up a friendship, however sporadic over the years, given the distance betwixt us, and I greatly admired him. That said, ’twould be good seeing him again. So ja, if Magnus requested my presence, I might very well go for the benefit of our tribe and country, of course.”

“Of course,” I managed, my voice gruffer than I would have liked with that same old envy. What if the two of them found love together? Married? Would I be forced to watch her with another man the rest of our days? Trying not to get ahead of myself, I did my best to think logically as her second-in-command. “Is our tribe ready to be without its leader so soon, though, I wonder?”

“Our tribe is made up of strong warriors and resilient people, so I would say, ja, they would be fine for a time.” She gestured at me. “Besides, they would have you leading them. We both know they look up to you every bit as much as they do me, Knud.”

“Nay,” I ground out a tad more firmly than I intended, but I meant it when I shook my head once at her. “I swore to your father on his deathbed that if you traveled beyond our Helvigs, I would protect you, and I intend to do just that, Tove.”

“I can protect myself, and you know it,” she cut back, her pupils flaring, her reminder of our positions as sharp as the look in her eyes. “That aside, I am earl of our tribe now, so if I order you to stay behind, you will.”

Had we been around others, I would have done as she asked without argument to avoid undercutting her authority, but we were not. Add to that, the ale was making me more forthright than I might have been otherwise, so I spoke to her as her closest friend. One who possessed the same fierce, stubborn streak.

“Yet you will not order me to stay behind,” I made clear. “Any more than your father would have.” Narrowing my eyes, I dared her to tell me I was wrong. “’Tis a perilous journey across the sea to the isles, so you would need your second-in-command. I’m not only your best warrior and can aid in the cause whilst protecting you, but because none sails better than I.”

She narrowed her eyes right back. “You try to guilt me by referring to my father?”

“By reminding you of what your father would have wished had he been here now.” I shrugged. “And truth be told, had he still been in charge, he would have seen good logic in keeping me by his side when traveling, just as he always did. Now, as I said, ’tis his want from where he sits beside Odin in the great halls of Valhalla that I see through his last wishes, and so I shall.”

She considered me for a moment before coming at me from another angle, surprising me with a forthrightness I hadn’t expected, telling me the ale was affecting her too.

“Do you know what my father asked of me on his deathbed?” Before I could answer, she went on. “He requested, if not demanded, that I marry well. And by well, he meant someone of great status who would only strengthen our tribe.” Watching me closely, she tilted her head. “You tell me, do you think someone like Magnús Óláfsson is the sort my father might have been referring to? For he is a powerful man in his own right and the king of a centuries-old dynasty, no less.”

“Ja,” I admitted, my voice rough with frustration if not outright hurt. Had Bjǫrn truly requested that of her? When he’d known how I felt about her? Though I loathed saying it, I had no choice but to answer honestly. “King Magnus Óláfsson would be the sort your father would have been referring to.”

Certainly not a man like me, it seemed. A mere warrior and her second-in-command. Someone who possessed no power in politics. An orphan who didn’t even know who his original people were.

“And what of you, Knud?” she asked, her tone softer now, making my heart surge with hope that she might wonder whether I would marry her if she wished it. At least until she continued. “Would you truly want to be there when I first came together with the King of the Isles again? Would you want to witness such when you could be back here, home at last from your journey, mayhap finding a match for yourself?”

I wasn’t sure what to make of her question, nor the tentative look in her eyes, before her gaze left my face and settled on the fire. I couldn’t help but notice how her grip had tightened around her mug, and her body tensed, telling me she braced herself for the answer.

“Nay, I would not wish to witness it,” I said before I could stop myself, but this moment betwixt us felt like one that should remain free of lies. “But if ’twas truly your father’s wish, I would watch you love another, whether across the seas or here, because I gave your father my word.”

When her gaze returned to my face and lingered, I wondered just how much she’d gleaned from that because it said much about my true feelings. Emotions she must sense on some level, however discreet I tried to remain. As it were, we had once shared a kiss, and she would be foolish indeed after that not to realize I loved her. To this day, the memory of that passionate kiss kept me warm at night.

“I said nothing of love as love does not factor into this,” Tove murmured, her voice softer still. She searched my eyes in that way she could sometimes, as if seeing into the deepest parts of me. “I spoke only of fulfilling my father’s wishes and doing what any good earl would for her tribe.” She cocked her head ever so slightly and hesitated a moment before going on. “Would it truly trouble you to see me love? To find love? I would think ’twould not be the case of a good friend…my closest friend.”

“Of course, I would want you to find that kind of happiness,” I replied, meaning every word. “’Twould be well deserved.” Though tempted to tell her then and there how much I cared about her, it would be crossing a line neither of us had a right to cross. So I searched for the right words to keep her at arm’s length when all I wanted to do was yank her close, kiss her hard, then carry her to bed. Words that thinly veiled my true feelings. “And whilst, ja, ’twould not be terrible if I found a match for myself one of these days, she can only ever be where you are, as I will see through Bjǫrn’s wishes if ’tis the last thing I do.”

And only ever love you, but naturally, I didn’t voice that. I instead prayed she saw it in my eyes. It might be wrong to hope for, all things considered, but I did regardless.