Chapter Thirty-Seven

Ketil was touched by the loyalty of the jester’s boy and his brother. The latter was still clothed in the familiar Feltspar livery and whispered that he had found him a horse. It turned out to be a grey mare but he wasn’t complaining. He sincerely hoped the glimpse he’d caught of her in the passageway wouldn’t be the last. She was a fetching vision, down to the thick red hose.

His Mia was gone but he loved Queen Miriam no less.

That was why he had to go. He hoped Daphne wouldn’t let him down.

The jailer was still snoring given the potion in his ale. Orm was probably with Jenna, while Magnus may be anywhere including watching for anything suspicious from the battlements. Sigurd might not raise a hue and cry, though his uncle almost certainly would. Not that he could blame him; in his position he might well have done the same.

Running was never a good option, even if you had no choice.

He already knew where he was headed after visiting the nunnery. It had to be a port, just not the one