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68 Amit Bobrov
of his words settled in. I am dead to him, and can have no hope.
I felt my eyes sting.

“Adam ...” he began in softer tones. “Look, I do what I do
not out of spite for you, but out of a dire need to protect my
daughter,” he said.
“Protect her from what? Am I such a lowly vermin?” I asked,
full of pain.
“No, boy, you’re not vermin,” he said apologetically “But you
don’t understand. You’re not of our people. You’re low-born,
and if I was to endorse your marriage, it would ruin our
reputation,” he explained.

“I understand I’m not of your people; my own people would’ve
treated you the same,” I replied. “So I hold no grudge against
you for it,” I continued. He snorted at my statement.
“Then do the honorable thing and leave, our blood cannot
mix,” he said. I stared at him for a moment, looking into his
eyes. I clenched my jaw as I made my final decision. I strained
a bit to sit up, and then gathered myself, fighting nausea, and

got up on my feet. I couldn’t manage to stay on them for more
than a moment and had to retreat back to bed. I stayed that
way for a couple of days, pretending to be asleep whenever
Ingrid came by. Once I regained enough of my strength I said
my farewells to Ivar and left.
I couldn’t bear the thought of being near Ingrid yet so far
away, and I had no strength to fight further with Ivar. All I really
wanted now was peace and to be left alone. I suffered two days
confined to a place where I did not want to be, relying on the

kindness of a man who did not want me around. As soon as
I was able to be up I found my way back to the Tavern, and
as I walked in, I clenched my jaw, straightened my pose, and
did everything in my power to hide my sickness and injury. The