Viking Vow Page 3

  “Thanks.” I popped a piece of fruit into my mouth. “So, did you want to talk?”

  “I do. But not here.” Erik glanced over his shoulder. The doorway through which his parents had disappeared remained closed, but I knew they were probably within earshot. Unless the Halvarssons’ suite was soundproofed.

  Ooh, soundproofed . . .

  Heat crept up my neck as I remembered my long-ago conversation with Erik about the need for magically muted walls. And the reason why we’d had that little chat.

  “Come with me.” Erik took me by the hand and led me to the front door.

  “Should I grab my boots, or—”

  Without answering, Erik reached down, picked up our shoes, and somehow managed to open the door with an armful of footwear.

  My Viking was nothing if not efficient.

  Erik led me past the guards, down the hallway, and to one of the thick, wooden doors that made up the quartet of suites in his family’s private wing. He turned the handle, tossed our shoes inside, and held out his arm. “After you.”

  I hadn’t spent much time in this part of the castle—I’d actually only been to Freia’s living room once before, and I’d never entered any of the other rooms in what I understood was the ruling family’s home. For all their progressivism, Valkyris had traditional values when it came to dating. Which meant that I’d never seen Erik’s room, despite our having been together for months. Bless.

  “Well?” Erik’s arm was still extended toward his open door.

  I grinned nervously. “What’s going on?”

  Erik studied me, his sky-blue eyes darkening a shade. “I need to talk to you about something important. And I need to do it in private.”

  I stepped over the threshold and entered a suite so large, it made mine look modest in comparison. Its wood-paneled floor stretched from the entry to the step that led up to a sleeping area. Couches and chairs framed a small table in front of us, while a massive sleigh bed swathed in plush, navy bedding dominated the space to the right. Straight ahead, floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over Valkyris, affording a view of the snow-dusted mountains just opposite the fjord. Thick navy curtains lined the windows, and the entire room was illuminated with wall sconces that flickered with the dim light of flameless candles.

  Holy mother.

  “Is this your room?” I balked.

  “It is.” Erik closed the door behind us.

  “It’s huge!” I padded across the hardwood, rounded a mid-sized dining table, and examined the enormous fireplace to the left of the windows. “And your view is . . .”

  I rested my forearms on one of the high-backed chairs that looked out onto the fjord, and gave a low whistle.

  “It’s nice,” Erik agreed.

  “Nice? Oh Lord, I’ll bet your bathroom is to die for.”

  I scurried toward the open door beside the bed. Another floor-to-ceiling window lined the wall next to the most massive tub I’d ever seen—in any era. Its clawed feet looked distinctly like dragon’s paws, and it stretched half the length of the bathroom, easily affording enough space for a six-and-a-half-foot Viking to stretch out. Or . . .

  Heat flooded my cheeks. It was not the moment to think about the things that could be done in that bathtub.

  Maybe after the war?

  The heat shifted, surging due south.

  Not helping.

  I turned around, hoping Erik would mistake the redness in my face for excitement about his ridiculously cool tub. “Oh, my God. Is that a shower? An honest to goodness shower?”

  Erik glanced at the glassed-in area behind the bathtub. “Is that what it’s called where you come from?”

  “I’m not sure. There’s no spout, but I’m guessing water magically appears like it does in our baths?”

  “Correct.” Erik nodded. “It’s new—the älva keepers have only just started working on the prototype, but I volunteered to test it out.”

  “I’ll test it out,” I blurted. Baths were great and all, but I hadn’t had a shower in seven months. I was long overdue to stand underneath a warm waterfall and let the stresses of living in Vikingdom wash right down the drain. Sigh.

  “You want to get in there? Right now?” One corner of Erik’s mouth quirked upward.

  “I just meant I wanted to take a shower, but . . .” Was he offering to join me?

  “Patience, sweet Saga. We’re not wed.”

  The heat changed course, racing north again. “I didn’t say . . . I mean . . . ugh.”

  Erik reached out for my hand. “Let’s talk. Would you rather sit by the fire or the windows?”

  “Windows,” I muttered, allowing him to pull me from the bathroom. He motioned for me to sit in one of the high-backed chairs, then turned his attention to the fireplace.

  “Let me just ignite this.”

  While Erik moved logs into the stone hearth, I settled into my seat. The castle was plenty warm, but I still pulled the blanket from the chair back and tucked it around my legs. Erik’s somber expression made me think we were in for a serious chat—and I wanted to be comfortable, if things got too heavy.

  Here we go.

  I tried not to fidget as the fire roared to life. Erik stoked the flames until they smoldered, then crossed to the window and lowered himself into the chair beside mine. He glanced at my blanket and tilted his head. “You cold?”

  “It is snowing outside.” I pointed to the light dusting falling from the night sky. “Again.”

  “It does that here.” Erik smiled. “Does it snow where you’re from?”

  “Yes,” I admitted. “But usually not this late into the season. I’m from farther south, so our winters are shorter. Our days and nights are more balanced, too—it’s been rough getting used to these six-hour days.”

  “Really?” Erik stroked his beard. “How long are your winter days?”

  “I never really timed them. Maybe ten hours?”

  Erik’s eyes widened. “You must get so much done with all of that daylight.”

  “Well,” I hemmed, “we’re not quite as focused on productivity as Valkyris.”

  Nobody had been, in the history of ever.

  “Then what did you do with your days?”

  “I was in school, mostly.” A sudden wave of heartache washed over me as I thought about the classes, lunchtimes, and after-school adventures I’d shared with my cousin, Olivia. I ran my fingertips along the edge of the blanket, focusing on the sensations of the fibers to keep the pain at bay. “I spent summers here in Norway, but during the rest of the year I went to school in a place called Minnesota with my cousins. One of them, Olivia, was my best friend. She was in my grade, and we were supposed to go to college and live together before I ended up here.”

  “You still miss her,” Erik said. It wasn’t a question.

  “Terribly. And my grandmother. And the rest of my family. I’ll always miss them.” I looked up to find Erik studying me intently. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not happy here. You, and your parents, and Axel, Helene, Katrin, Ingrid, Vidia—you’ve become my second family. I love you.”

  “And I love you,” Erik said. “That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

  “About love?” I released my grip on the blanket.

  “About us,” Erik said gently. “Saga, I love you.”

  “You just said that.” I smiled. “But I never get tired of hearing it.”

  “But I love you,” he stressed.

  I tilted my head so my braid fell over my shoulder. Where was he going with this? “I love you too. Still.”

  Erik’s brows knitted together. “I’m not sure you understand.”

  No. I most certainly did not. Were we just declaring our feelings, or was this about something else?

  “Can you explain?”

  “We’re about to embark on a journey that will be dangerous at best. I know you’ve studied the history between the tribes, and I know you realize how tenuous those relationships are during good times. But Bjorn’s made a
strong play for dominance during the past few months. They’ve likely threatened most of the tribes we’ll be approaching, which means we’re going out with the odds stacked highly against us.”

  “I know all of that,” I reminded him. “But what does that have to do with us?” And with love, of all things?

  “Everything.” Erik squared his shoulders so he faced me. “I don’t know what it’s like where you come from. But here, life is full of risk, and darkness, and death. We lose friends in the blink of an eye, and spend every day fighting to make sure the freedom we value survives. Our lives are too short not to live them to the fullest; to be completely present in every day; to squeeze each bit of joy from every moment we’re blessed to be alive.”

  “Erik,” I murmured. With all I’d lost in my lifetime, I sometimes forgot that he’d seen even worse. Sometimes weekly.

  “I know things are different where you’re from. And I know you’re hesitant to commit to anything permanent here, knowing you might one day go back. But I love you, Saga Skånstad. I love your independence, your ferocity, your sense of humor. I love your stubborn refusal to back down from a challenge, no matter how greatly the odds are stacked against you.”

  “Hey.” I reached over to punch him in the arm.

  Erik intercepted my fist, cradling it as he continued. “I love the strength of your character, and the way you stand up for your friends. But most of all, I love your heart. You’re a beacon of light in this dark world of mine, and I love you for every bit of brightness you’ve shared with me . . . with all of us. I love you.”

  A warmth spread through me, radiating from my heart all the way to my toes. “I love you too. More than you could ever know.”

  Erik reached over to cup my cheek in his palm. “I want to make you my wife.”

  Wait. What?

  My breath caught in my throat. Erik Halvarsson, heir to the chiefdom of Valkyris, Viking assassin, defender of equality, and unequivocally the sexiest guy I’d ever set eyes on, wanted to make me his wife. Me. Me.

  Me?

  Was that even possible?

  I loved Erik with every fiber of my being—there had never been a doubt in my mind that no matter what happened from here on out, he was the great love of my life. He was the one I hadn’t been looking for, but who’d fallen into my world—or, rather, I’d fallen into his—and become the very center of it. The one who saw me for exactly who I was, flaws and all, and who loved me in spite of—or maybe even because of—them. Erik Halvarsson was, and always would be, the single greatest surprise of my life.

  But as sure as I was of my feelings for Erik, I was equally sure that we were from two completely different worlds—worlds separated by countless miles, a thousand years, and one highly unpredictable time-traveling dagger. There was a very strong possibility that despite our feelings, despite our intentions, despite everything, there would come a day when we’d be ripped apart—whether at the hand of a vitriolic Viking clan, or the magic of Freia’s not-so-reliable dagger. And if I’d given myself to Erik and he was taken from me, or me from him . . .

  How would I ever be able to recover?

  “I’ve overwhelmed you.” Erik’s thumb stroked the moisture from my cheek.

  “No,” I said honestly. “You’ve humbled me. Marrying you would be an honor beyond anything I ever imagined.”

  Erik’s lips turned downward. “But?”

  “But there’s so much stacked against us being together. From the physical distance of our worlds to the thousand years that separate us. How do we know I won’t get sucked back into my own time whenever your mom’s dagger decides to work again?”

  “We don’t,” Erik said. “Just like we don’t know if we’ll survive Bjorn’s assault, or our journey to the far north. Which is why I want to make the most of the moments we do have.”

  “I’m only eighteen,” I reminded him.

  Erik cradled my cheek. “The marriageable age in Valkyris is sixteen.”

  “Where I come from, sixteen-year-olds are still considered children,” I pointed out. “And eighteen is . . . well, it’s not ‘marriageable age,’ that’s for sure.”

  “Why not?” Erik studied me. “You’ve nearly completed your schooling at the academy. You’ve more than proven yourself capable in battle, and you’ve successfully identified and replicated a new kind of weapon for our tribe. You’ve more than shown that you’re able to govern your own affairs—why would you cede your power on choosing your life partner?”

  Because I’m scared.

  The realization hit like a tidal wave, and a new kind of pain washed over me—one infinitely more debilitating than any I’d felt before. At some point, that dagger would have the power to rip me away from the world I’d grown to love; the people I’d grown to love; the heir I’d . . . oh, God.

  I drew a shaky breath. I couldn’t think about losing Erik. The very possibility felt like a knife to the gut.

  “I . . .” I bit down on my bottom lip. “I don’t know.”

  Erik lowered his hand. “If you don’t want to commit to me, I understand. But—”

  “It’s not that.” I shook my head. “There’s nobody on this Earth, in your era or mine, who I’d rather be with. But there’s so much about our future I don’t know. I’m just . . .”

  Pain flickered across Erik’s eyes, before disappearing in a heartbeat. “We’ve asked much of you these past several months. I won’t push you further.”

  I reached up to grasp his wrist. “I just need you to be patient with me. This world has been a lot to take in, but I need you to know that you are the most important thing in my life. And I don’t ever want to lose you.”

  Erik’s jaw softened. “I understand.”

  “Do you?” Erik’s eyes were still framed with tension lines. “Because this has nothing to do with how I feel about you, and everything to do with how I feel about changing even just one more thing. There have been so many changes since I got here, and I don’t think I’m ready for one this big. Not yet.”

  “I know,” Erik said gently. “And I will wait until you’re ready to revisit this. But make no mistake, Saga Skånstad—I will ask you to be my wife again. My feelings for you are too substantial to dismiss.”

  “Mine too,” I whispered.

  “Good.” Erik reached around and laced his fingers through my hair. He brought my head to his, claiming my mouth in a kiss that wiped all cohesive thought from my mind. My hands flew to his shoulders and I pulled him closer, letting his familiar scent wash over me while his teeth tugged lightly along my bottom lip. A contented groan escaped my throat as I pushed myself up on my knees, fully intending to drag Erik over to his bed. Or to the floor in front of the fireplace. Hell, at this point, I didn’t care where this happened, so long as it finally bloody happened, already. But the moment I slid one foot onto the ground and tugged at Erik’s tunic, he pulled away.

  My breath came in ragged gasps as I blinked at the heir staring up at me through hooded eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “You’re not ready to be married.”

  “And?”

  “Saga.” Amusement danced across Erik’s face. “We’ve been over this.”

  My hormones dive bombed into my gut as I remembered I was dating a Viking who lived by a Victorian code of dating ethics. “Right. Your rules.”

  “Valkyris’ rules. And they’re for your protection,” Erik reminded me. “To guard your virtue against unworthy suitors.”

  “Axel doesn’t follow the rules!”

  “Axel is the reason we have the rules.” Erik shrugged. “He’s unworthy.”

  “Yeah, but—"

  “But nothing.” Erik kissed me softly. “If I wasn’t in love with you, this wouldn’t be an issue. But I am. And I won’t budge on this, even with your consent.”

  “I—"

  Erik silenced me by pressing his lips to my forehead before pushing himself to his feet. “Come, Saga. We have a mission to prepare for. Valkyris’ future is literally in o
ur hands.”

  With that, he held out his arm and cocked his brow. I placed my palm in his, begrudgingly allowing Erik to pull me to my feet and lead me toward the door.

  That Viking was going to be the death of me.

  Chapter 4

  “DOES PROFESSOR KRISTENSEN ALWAYS look this good?” Ingrid’s low whisper made me snort. With our first mission just three days away, Erik had rearranged our schedules so Ingrid could join my Wednesday morning exploring class. What he thought she’d learn in one lesson was beyond me, especially considering she’d spent the bulk of the lecture ogling Professor Kristensen’s backside while he sketched a navigational chart on a piece of parchment pinned to the front of the classroom.

  To be fair, he was rather exquisite from this angle.

  “The short answer is yes,” I murmured. “Helene’s into him too.”

  “Why wouldn’t she be?” Ingrid leaned back in her chair. “Thick hair, thicker arms, and those eyes . . .”

  “You’ve got a thing for older men now?” I whispered.

  “I’ve got no things for anyone,” Ingrid whispered back. “The Shieldmaiden Squadron is highly competitive, and if I want to earn a spot after we graduate I have to have perfect grades, and perfect physical examinations, and perfect . . . well, perfect everything.”

  “Then you’d better stop staring at Kristensen’s butt, and start taking notes.” I tapped the blank parchment in front of my friend.

  “Who says I can’t do both?” Ingrid retorted.

  This time, my snort was so loud it earned a head shake from the overzealous notetaker in front of me. She turned and gave me a hearty shh.

  “Sorry,” I hissed.

  “Did someone have a question?” Professor Kristensen turned around. As he scanned the classroom, I schooled my expression into one of innocent confusion.

  “I do.” I raised my hand. “What do we do if none of the navigational methods are available?”

  “Explain.” Professor Kristensen brushed an errant crimson curl from his face. The entire front row swooned.

  “Well.” I tried to ignore the collective fluttering of breath. “Say we’re not at sea—if we’re traveling by land, we don’t have whales to follow, or waves to listen for. And more often than not, the stars are obscured by clouds. What else can we do to make sure we’re not going off-track?”