TWELVE
Shouts and singing rang out across the valley, punctuated by calls for more ale. Rudolf was surely home, for that was the sound he remembered most. He'd had to sneak into the feasts he'd remembered, for he'd been too young to attend as a full man before he'd left Viken for the Southern Isles, but now he was a man he could take part in full measure.
Would they remember him? Accept him as the man he'd become, or think of him as the boy who'd been banished to the ends of the earth to keep him away from the throne that blood bound him to the same way it bound Reidar, his cousin, the man Regina insisted would be the king's heir?
They toasted the king's health and courage and long life, fearless roars echoing into the night. This was a victory feast, then, for they didn't fear an enem
