And I knew that though he’d never say it, some part of him held me responsible for Iri’s death. Because I was. I was his fighting mate and that made him my responsibility. It was my job to keep him alive. I should have given my life before his could be taken. The guilt haunted the shadows of my every dream. He was there, in every nightmare. I’d gone into the fighting season, ready to avenge my brother. But Sigr was waiting for me in Aurvanger, ready to pour out his wrath upon me. And now I was being punished for my weakness. I had failed. I knew that the moment Iri went over the edge.
