We eat dinner as a family, whenever we're lucky enough to have the chance, [she begins, easily, as though it is explanation enough on its own, except that Brynhilde is—hm. Charming, strong-willed, loved and cherished by Naja's most beloved, and dumb as a brick. And so, Naja continues, all in the same breezy sentence,] so we'd all be quite happy if you took the place we've set for you.

[The work is already done, she doesn't say, among other things, because it's hard to notice how little time Brynhilde spends inside, how the gardeners have their routines laid out and easily followed step-by-step and are so easily dodged on their ways down the same paths across the vast estate. If she does not fit in among the high ceilings and stained glass, the sparkle and shine of the palace and the hissing bustle of its nobility—well, it isn't like this is the first time Naja has built a family around something lonely and displaced.]