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Because Ubba had granted him the land, Andor knew the farm had already been here and had a few buildings ready to be worked and lived in. He had given the land to Harek and Nanna, Svana’s parents. They had moved in here with Svana’s sister Ilmr, her husband, and their children. They now had several servants and slaves who lived in the other buildings.

It was good land, a rich beginning for a new life, and based on the neatness of the buildings, the state of the roofs and walls, it looked like they were doing well with it.

Andor sent a trusted servant here regularly with silver and treasure from his conquests. It was like paying a danegeld for a failure for which he could not forgive himself.

But silver and gold could not buy him that forgiveness. Cathy was right. He had heard her voice, the last words she had said to him every day since she had left. “Would you have wanted her to move on with her life or would you want her to live like this, crippled by guilt, all the life sucked out of her?”

With Cathy’s absence, it was as though the air had stopped nourishing his lungs, as though the sun had sunk and would never come up again. As though Ragnarok, the end of the world, was near.

And now he had come here to—

He did not quite know. He knew he could not live another day without seeing Svana’s parents.

He had brought silver as a pretense to see them. Fridstein had insisted on coming with him.

Andor needed to look into the eyes of the parents whose daughter had died because of him, something he had never done after her death. He had avoided looking at them. He had run away from them, buying their forgiveness with this land and his silver.

But ever since Cathy had left, her words had nagged at him, and the door that he had shut had begun lurching.

He needed to look them in the eye and say that he was sorry.

“Come on,” Andor said, spurring his horse to let it run towards the buildings.

Even before they arrived, the door to the main longhouse opened, and Harek came out, his eyes wide.

“Andor,” he said. “Son.”

Harek was a sturdy man, his hair still dark, although gray was beginning to show at his temples.

“Harek.” Andor glanced at him but could not look for more than a moment. He jumped off the horse and stood by it like a carved statue, unable to move any closer.

“Come in, you and Fridstein,” Harek said and gestured to the entrance of the longhouse. “The new ale must be ready by now.”

Andor gave a curt nod of thanks, and he and Fridstein tied their horses by the drinking pit.

Inside, the whole farm was there. Nanna and Ilmr sewed, while servants cooked food and occupied children. Both women’s hands stilled as they saw Andor.

“Andor,” Nanna said, then her face crumpled and she began crying. Ilmr hugged her and rubbed her shoulder.

Andor’s jaw tightened so much he thought he might break it. His ghosts were not behind the door anymore. They were right in front of him, flesh and blood.

“I—” he said. “I should not have come.” He turned around and walked out of the house.

Harek followed him. “No, no. She is just— She has not seen you for a while. Do not go.”

Andor’s face tightened. He turned to Harek but still could not look him in the eyes. “I shall not bother your family.”

“We are your family, too.”

Andor’s lips curved, as tight as ropes. “The family I have ruined.”

Silence hung between them, because he had said what he had come to say. He had made the step, and he knew he could not run anymore. All he could do was stay.

Face the ghosts.

With his chest as hard and as cold as an iron cage, as though frozen in a chunk of ice, he raised his eyes to Harek’s, meeting them for the first time since Svana died.

Ready for punishment. Ready for judgment. Ready for whatever his father-in-law would give him.