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Archer looked at her curiously. She asked him if he agreed, and he giggled and pulled her hair. At least the children were willing to agree with her for the time being.

“That’s what I thought.” She smiled, kissing his chubby cheek.

Then she turned to Evander and asked him what he’d do today. He seemed taken aback for a moment, almost as if he hadn’t expected her to ask, let alone entertain the idea.

“I’ll train. It’ll be a good way to reintroduce meself to the MacArthur men. I’ll see ye at the feast.”

He left, and Freya found herself watching the door long after he’d disappeared through it, some traitorous part of her already counting the hours until the feast.

She shook her head at herself, disgusted by how quickly she’d fallen into the habit of missing him the moment he stepped out of a room.

Three weeks, she reminded herself.

That was all this was meant to be—a trial, an arrangement, nothing more. But standing there with his niece on her hip, breathing in the scent of him that still lingered faintly in the room, she wondered if three weeks would be long enough to walk away when the time came.

She glanced down at Amelia, who was studying her with that same suspicious little frown she always wore, as though she hadn’t yet decided whether Freya could be trusted either.

“Daenae look at me like that,” Freya murmured. “I have no idea what I’m doing either.”

The girl only blinked at her, unimpressed, and Freya laughed softly despite herself. Perhaps that made three of them in this castle pretending they knew what they were about.

She pressed a kiss to the girl’s dark hair and turned to find Brigid before her thoughts could wander somewhere far more dangerous than a nursery.

The children could do with some time out. This castle was still foreign to her, and she was tired of staying inside, never venturing out. She’d heard the staff muttering about a garden nearby. A lovely garden that was planted by Evander’s mother.

“Brigid, what do ye think of taking the twins to the garden?”

“Isnae that where the men will be training?”

“Is it?” Freya sputtered. “A coincidence, then.”

Brigid smiled so wide Freya could see the dimples in her cheeks. “Is that what ye are going to go with, me Lady?”

“I daenae understand why ye’re insisting it’s anything but a coincidence,” Freya muttered.

“The fact that ye’re pushing so hard against me words is why I think that, me Lady.”

Freya ducked her head, ignoring Brigid’s laughter as they got the twins ready for their walk.

Freya pushed open the iron gate, and it groaned on its hinges as though it hadn’t been asked to move in some time.

The garden spread out before them, quiet and green and a little wild at the edges. Herbs sprawled from their beds. A rowan stood just inside the wall, its berries bright as drops of blood.

Freya stopped so suddenly that Brigid nearly walked into her.

“Me Lady?”

“It’s lovely,” Freya said softly. “I didnae expect it to be so lovely.”

Amelia, on her hip, forgot to scowl. Archer reached both arms toward the rowan and squealed.

Brigid smiled. “Aye. I heard that the old Lady laid it out and tended it with her own hands.”

“Evander’s maither, right?”

“Aye. Folk says she was out here every morning, rain or nae.”

“And now?”