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Freya managed a smile. “Nay.”

“Then we’ll take that walk after supper. When the hall’s full and the Larid’s busy with his men, we can take the bairns around the garden, and nobody need see ye at all.”

Freya nodded, though something in her chest twisted at the thought of the garden. The rowan tree. The archway where she’d stood watching Evander train, sweat on his shoulders and the sun on his scar, before everything had gone wrong.

She pushed the memory aside. It was only a walk. A little air, a little light, and then back to the nursery, where it was safe.

Amelia crawled into her lap and settled there with a grunt, as though she’d decided Freya needed holding down. Freya wrapped her arms around the girl and rested her chin on her messy curls.

Out in the corridor, all was quiet. She told herself she was glad of it. As Brigid said, a walk would do her good. Or it would make her feel worse.

“Ye’ve gone quiet again,” Brigid noted.

“I’m thinking.”

“Ye’re brooding. There’s a difference.” Brigid picked Archer up and rested him on her hip. “Is it the garden?”

Freya didn’t answer.

“It is, then.”

“It’s only…” Freya smoothed Amelia’s curls. “The last time I was there, I wasnae paying attention. Archer fell, and Jack said what he said, and everything went wrong afterward.”

“Nothing went wrong in that garden but a wee scratch,” Brigid said firmly. “And the lad’s forgotten it. Look at him.”

Archer chose that moment to blow a wet raspberry at his sister.

Freya’s mouth twitched despite herself. “He has, has he nae?”

“Bairns forget. It’s grown folk who carry things about like stones in their pockets.”

“Is that what I’m doing?”

“Ye’ve a whole cairn in there, me Lady.”

Freya laughed, the sound small and surprised. “Ye’re terrible, Brigid.”

“I’m honest.”

“Ye keep saying that.”

“Because it keeps being true.” Brigid’s voice softened. “Ye can be angry at him. Ye have every right. But ye cannae live in this room forever.”

“I could try.”

“Aye, and the bairns would grow up thinking the whole world is four walls and two cradles.”

Freya looked down at Amelia, then at the window.

“After supper,” she said quietly.

“After supper,” Brigid agreed.

A walk. It was a simple walk to the garden and back. The twins loved going out to the garden. In fact, they couldn’t get enough of it. They always giggled so happily, trying to reach up with their little chubby hands.

“Thank ye, Brigid. Ye are a good friend.”

Brigid smiled. “Any time, me Lady. As long as ye continue to allow me to be frank, of course.”