Vidar grunted and walked to the front door, but stopped to turn to her. âYou havenât a chance, but I wish you luck. Iâm going to see if Ingrid needs an escort home.â He grinned and walked out.
âVidar!â She waited until heâd popped his head back in before lowering her voice. âPlease donât tell anyone your suspicions.â It was widely assumed that her sonâs father was her late husband. No one except her parents knew that it was Gunnar.
Vidar looked towards Avalt and nodded. âI wonât say a word.â Then he left, running to catch up to Ingrid.
Kadlin hugged her child tighter and buried her face in his curls. Vidar was right. She knew in her bones that his words werenât just those of a young warrior unable to imagine life with an injury like Gunnarâs. His feelings were those shared by almost every man that she knew. An injury that left one lame was an injury that should result in death. Was she selfish to want Gunnarâs recovery even if he himself didnât? She didnât know, but she did know that it wasnât in her power to grant him that alternative. He would
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