She smiled, unable to help herself, to hide her pleasure at that tiny crack in his armor, that twitch in his jaw. But her smile was smooth and paired with a small, apologetic nod of her head. Her mistake, she seemed to say, though it was only a difference of semantics.

It pleased her too, in some way, to hear him push Idris away from himself, his identity. From what Luke had told her, she did admire the place distantly, saw the beauty in their brotherhood of warriors, their singleness of purpose. But Idris was the place that disowned Luke. She hated it, for all its imagined beauty, and would have hated Alec if he had cleaved himself to it.

"Many do not know Northumbria," she admitted with a wave of her hand, dismissing and gesturing back. "Too many years ago. I do not say much of it to Luke. It is England now. I am of the Angles."