“So Iri is Riki now?” She nodded. “He is. Iri left his past behind. It took time, but the Riki accepted him. The gods are funny that way.” I narrowed my eyes at her. “What do you mean?” “I mean, sometimes they make families in peculiar ways.” She stood, pulling more garlic from the crate. “Fjotra,” she said, under her breath. “Fjotra is the blood bond. They aren’t brothers,” I corrected her. “That’s munstrǫnd fjotra. Sál fjotra is a bond between souls.” I stared at her. “This kind of bond is formed when a soul is broken. It’s formed through pain, loss, and heartbreak. They’re bound by
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