**
"No one asked me to wait. No one asked for a war story to justify it. Sigrid is going to appear with a slate before supper and pretend she isn't eager."
Magnus wiped his hands on a rag. Hay stuck to his sleeve. He looked like a man who had been doing ordinary work while the ground under his life shifted, and who did not mind.
"When you have the date," he said, "tell me where to stand. I'll be there before the dens finish arranging themselves."
"I trust that you would."
He tipped his head toward the stalls. "Karin says the yearlings will take the lower loops clean by the end of the week. She's leaving when she's sure our farrier won't invent inland heels out of mountain bone. Wanted you to hear it from me in case she rides out before you catch her."
"I'll catch her."
We walked back toward the inner keep together. The yard smelled of horse and cold iron and someone's early bread.
