Skál.

Amleth stared at her for a long time. Then he looked at the boys. His half-brothers. Innocent.

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When he was twenty-five winters old, a trader came to the camp with news. Fjölnir the Brotherless had been overthrown himself—not by justice, but by a rival king from the south. Fjölnir had fled to Iceland, of all places, a frozen wasteland at the edge of the world. He now called himself a farmer. He had taken Gudrún as his wife and fathered new sons.