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Was her family all right? Did they have enough to eat? Her heart twisted and turned within her. The elk was enough; it ought to be enough. Not to be strong or healthy, perhaps, but they would not die. But fish and carrots and potatoes and berrieswould help keep their strength up, too, and they had very little of these.

But they would live.

Guilt and grief and relief and gratitude warred in her, until she could not have said what she felt even if someone had asked.

Not that anyone did.

The bear lay quietly on the floor near her. She offered him a piece of the meat from her stew, and he eyed her with a strange look in his eyes and did not take it.

“Bears eat meat!” she exclaimed. “I think they plan to feed me here, so I don’t think you have to worry about me starving. Don’t you want it?”

He looked away and put his head on the floor.

When she went to bed that night, she managed to stay awake until her visitor came. Even with the embers in the grate faintly glowing, it was far too dark to see anything, even if she had looked, and her eyes were closed.

His steps were nearly silent as he crept across the floor, and she guessed his feet were bare. Again he lay on the very edge of the pallet, as if he were more afraid of touching her than she was of him.

For she had come to believe Alexander’s word that this man, whoever he was, would not touch or harm her in any way. His movements were careful, and he kept as much distance as possible between them.

A faint tremor caught her attention, and she tried to identify it.

He was shivering.

“You can use one of the blankets,” she whispered. “There’s plenty.”

Of course there was no answer. She sat up and pulled one of the heavy furs from the end of the pallet and pushed it between them.

He flinched away, and she froze.

“I was just giving you a blanket. It’s here now and you can take it. I’ll be on my side so you don’t accidentally touch me.”

She withdrew and waited, hoping to feel him move.

After a long time, the fur lying bunched between them shifted, and she thought he might have pulled it over his shoulder.

Still, his shivering did not entirely fade away.

Chapter 6

When Gytha awoke, her guest was gone. Either he had stirred the fire for her before he left, or a servant had done it, because the flames crackled merrily and the room was relatively warm. She still needed all her layers, but at least her fingers weren’t stiff with chill.

She added a tiny yellow northern poppy to her sampler and then continued work on the embroidery to sell. The intricate pattern was taking shape well, and she imagined the piece as the collar of a rich man’s coat.

Meals came at intervals; for breakfast there was tea and a warm, flaky, buttery biscuit beside some berries, and lunch and dinner were hot meals. There was goat milk and hot tea and broth to drink.

When she was tired,she went to bed.

Her nighttime visitor came again, and again he accepted only the barest corner of the fur that she had put between them. Perhaps he was afraid of touching her, or perhaps he was merely being chivalrous.

But his silent shivering tugged at her heart.

She added a tundra rose to her sampler and asked Magni, “Is it too bold to ask for some more blankets for my bed? And a drop spindle and a carding brush? I’d like to make yarn.”

He inclined his head politely and disappeared into the hall.

Soon Magni returned with the familiar tools, along with two thick wool blankets over his shoulder.

“Thank you! May I have some more light, too?” She bit her lip.