A twinge of fear entered Gwenwhyfar’s heart. It was the first she had heard of the sea farms lying in the path of danger. She wondered what had befallen a different Norseman of her acquaintance. Had her poor bodyguard, Finn, perished in one of those raids?

Marcus turned his back to her. He feared that if he saw her face, it might weaken his resolve. Love was indeed a madness.

Secundus might lie rotting in his grave, but his relatives and followers yet lived. They believed the lies that held Gwenwhyfar responsible for the death of their relative. For the sake of his own family’s safety, Marcus had not sought to correct that error.

Far, far out on the open sea a platform of stone held firm against the tossing waves. At first sight, it appeared as nothing out of the ordinary, other than that it lay in the middle of nowhere.
That was the view on the surface. Beneath the water existed an entirely alien world.

She ran. Deeper, deeper into the mysterious Broceliande forest...

What are your intentions toward my sister?”
Marcus was taken aback. “Intentions?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about,” Cahan snarled. “I’ve seen the way you look at her.”
“If you’ll take a moment to observe,” the Roman countered, mustering patience, “you’ll notice I’m not the only man who has cast his eye upon her once or twice.