Eirik sleeps in a strange bed

Eirik did not like sleeping in strange beds.

This bed was particularly strange, for he had always slept in another room when he stayed at Lord Blaehwen’s castle—a room he had always shared with Tryggve. They’d even had it when they’d come through Hwitsands on their way to the wedding, but on their return trip Blaehwen had informed them that the room was being repaneled, and they’d been sent into separate rooms on different floors and in different wings.

Eirik had begged another, complaining that he liked a window that looked out onto the beach and the distant masts of his ships. He spoke truly, but also by the logic that the chalice one was offered was the one most likely to be poisoned.

But no other room had been worthy of so esteemed a guest, and so esteemed a guest could not protest. Now he could only wish he had simply gone down to the waterside and slept with his men.

He decided he would leave the bedside lamp lit. He told himself that Siri would have laughed at him, for even two-​year-​old Pinknose was not afraid of the dark.

He wished he could hear her laughing. He wished she were there. He would wrap his long limbs around her soft little body, and…

No, a sleeping man’s body was not much protection after all. On second thought, he was glad she was safe at home.