“When I left Norway, I was a young man,” I tell her. “I left with my mother. We arrived on the northern coast of Ireland, and the life we lived there was not a simple one. Shortly after we arrived, she discovered she was with child.” I try to ignore the heaviness in my chest as I go on stroking her hair. “She asked me to pick a herb for her, because she knew it was not the right time.” “Thrain.” She looks fervently compassionate as she meets my gaze. It is not the gaze of a confused girl; she knows exactly what I’m talking about. “I just wanted to let you know,” I mutter. “If you need me to
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