He holds up the necklace so she can see it, all three shimmering strands. “It should be yours. I don’t know when I’d ever be able to — “ He hesitates, then chooses to explain it differently. “There are silversmiths in White Harbor, but I have no lands of my own. I won’t ever have jewels to give you.”

Moving to fasten it around her neck, he adds, “But the sword… aye, I can teach you that.”