Valkyrie Song (Valkyrie Bound #5)

Chapter One

Kara

A soft wind blows around me, sending the fresh scent of wild poppies swirling through the air as I approach the shimmering surface of the Bifrost, curious about the secrets it holds. The six Fae warriors guarding it step aside, allowing me to walk right up to the reflective surface.

"Be careful, Valkyrie," Rhistel says, his voice gruff as he glances at me and then quickly away, his back ramrod straight. "The Portal has been restless today."

"Restless?" I cock my head to the side, eyeing the ancient Fae warrior. "How so?"

"Flickering." He nods at it. "It used to do that sometimes."

I narrow my eyes on the Portal, but it looks the same as always to me. I turn back to Rhistel, frowning. "Was there any pattern to when it flickered? Back then, I mean?"

"Ja." His lips compress as the warriors beside him stir restlessly, looking anywhere but at me. "Anytime the Valkyrie were emotional, the Portal sensed it."

"Emotional?" I arch a brow at him.

This time, the unflappable warrior stirs just like the men he leads. "Ah, when they felt things strongly, Valkyrie." He grimaces, an apology in his Fae-bright eyes. "I meant no offense."

I grunt instead of responding, almost positive he meant exactly what he said the first time. Emotional. Ugh.

I'm not emotional, and neither are my sisters. But if anyone has a right to be, don't we? We've been hunted down like rabbits for months by the Forsaken, our families picked off, our worlds shattered to pieces. We've been thrust into the middle of an ancient battle, told we're supposed to save all of creation…and given no real insight into how to do it.

We've fought and bled and exhausted ourselves right alongside the Fae. And we've done it with no guarantee that we'll even survive. No, we aren't emotional. We're afraid. And we have every right to be. Who wouldn't be in our shoes?

I turn away from Rhistel and his warriors, stepping closer to the Bifrost, and inhale deeply, the heady scent of the wild poppies soothing a little of the restlessness clawing through me. More and more since arriving in Valhalla over two weeks ago, I've felt the same growing sense of unease, as if the bubble surrounding us is on the verge of collapse.

I'm not the only one who feels it. My sisters do, too. So do the Fae who protect us. It's as if we're all waiting for the Forsaken to fracture the peace we've found here and send us hurtling toward war again… as if we know in our bones that it's coming.

I guess we do. The Forsaken may not have followed us through the Portal when Tori Healed it, but none of us really believe that they've given up.

Does evil ever die quietly? I kind of doubt it.

The Forsaken are simply regrouping after my sisters and I killed so many of them in Eitr.

At least, that's what the Fae think. I tend to agree with them.

The Forsaken aren't gone. They're simply plotting their next move—the one that plunges us into a war that will decide the fate of every world, every soul.

It's a terrifying prospect.

We've been using the reprieve from battle to our advantage. When we came through the Portal, Valhalla was little more than a relic of another realm long since reclaimed by nature. The immensity of the legendary haven is overwhelming. And so is the destruction the Forsaken and the Jotunn wrought upon it centuries ago.

Litte remains now save toppled spires and burned-out barracks. The once great Hall of Warriors no longer stands at all. The only evidence that it ever existed at all is a single stone pillar, untouched by the encroaching forest.

The Fae have been rebuilding and fortifying as quickly as possible. Most of the work is beyond even their abilities—a God built this place, after all. But they know enough to have reclaimed parts of the valley from the wild. New barracks are going up to replace those that were destroyed. We have roofs over our heads, and the Fae have been bringing the comforts of home through the Bifrost as often as they can.

It's almost as if they're disassembling what remains of Eitr and rebuilding it right here in Valhalla. Tori calls it a Fae Fusion, the blending of the world they've known for the last three centuries with the home they lost long ago. It's an apt descriptor, as far as they go. I'm not sure the Fae agree. They grumble when Tori says it, as if the thought of restoring Valhalla with what they've pillaged from earth is unholy business.

Their complaints have only ensured that all my sisters now call this fortification a Fae Fusion, just to tease them. The Fae don't really mind, as much as they grumble. To them, my sisters and I are salvation. We gave them back the home the Forsaken stole from them and offer hope for a future, one they've been planning for since the Portal fell three centuries ago, trapping them on earth. They let us get away with far more than they probably should.

We try not to abuse it. As peaceful as it's been here, none of us are ignorant about what we face or what it means. If we fail, all worlds fall to Darkness. Every soul dies, used up by the Forsaken for their dark magic.

We've been working day and night to try to figure out the mysteries of the Bifrost and how to use it to free the souls trapped beyond the Veil, essentially restarting the death process the Forsaken disrupted three hundred years ago. Dying hasn't been complete for centuries, leaving millions in limbo. Everyone has just been…stuck, waiting to move on.

"How do you work?" I murmur to the silent surface of the Bifrost, wishing it would tell us what we need to know. Or that the Fae could. But not even they know how our ancestors used their Powers and the Bifrost to travel beyond the Veil. If the Bifrost has the knowledge we seek, it's refusing to give it up.

We're connected to it in some inexplicable way, our destiny tied to the magic used to forge it. But we don't understand how it works. Clearly, we should. If it senses our emotions as Rhistel believes, surely we should be able to communicate with it, right? We did once…sort of. When Tori Healed it, forging the shattered pieces back together, we all heard it whispering to us.

But it's been silent in the weeks since, not even speaking to Tori. Like with so much else, we're fumbling along blindly, hoping we hit the right combination to tap into the skills we need to reveal its secrets.

In two weeks, we've made very little progress.

Oh, we can all call our Light on command and link without hesitation now. Marion can hold the immense flow of our combined Light far more easily than she could when we fled through the Portal. We've become formidable weapons, no doubt.

But we're still stumbling in the dark, trying to work out how to tap into the Power we need to move beyond the Veil and save the souls the Forsaken intend to use to plunge every realm into eternal servitude.

Are my unsettled emotions the ones the Bifrost senses?

The question floats to the surface of my mind, unbidden. Part of me wants to automatically reject it, but I can't.

I can't help but wonder and doubt, either.

My sisters are all close, but there's a…distance between me and Marion that holds me back. It's not her doing. She accepted me with open arms. The distance is all my fault because I'm plagued by guilt that I got to know her parents, Rand and Simek, when she never did. They placed her in foster care when she was young to protect her from the Forsaken hunting us.

The Forsaken killed them trying to save her life…but before that, I spent months in their care. They rescued me the night the Forsaken murdered my family and hid me away until Marion and Abigail found me. I lived with them, learned from them.

Does Marion resent me for getting to know them in a way she'll never be able to do? She never says anything or treats me any differently—she's warm and kind—but still. Guilt prods at me every time I look at her.

Is that guilt preventing us from finding the answers we need? Is it what the Portal senses?

I stare at the reflective surface, hoping for an answer, but it remains frustratingly silent. As usual. It isn't dead, though. Part of it is alive and conscious. Warmth emanates from it in a steady pulse, like the beating of a heart.

The magic of the Bifrost is powerful, ancient. And not even the Fae entirely understand what it is or how it works. That knowledge was never shared with them.

I stare at the Portal for a long moment and then sigh and turn away. There are no answers to be found here today. Just like there were none yesterday or the day before.

I turn my chin up at Rhistel, earning a tiny, apologetic grin from the vicious warrior, and then slip back into the shadows of the forest surrounding Valhalla, heading back toward our barracks. Giant, towering trees grow up all around me as I stick to the edge of the forest. Their gnarled branches weave together in a delicate tangle overhead, as if to hide the valley they protect from view. I don't think that's going to be a problem, though. Aside from the Fae who came through the Portal with us, Valhalla is silent.

Asgard, directly on the other side of the Bifrost, is too. That shining city is as much a relic as Valhalla, a sad reminder that not even gods are infallible. The spires have toppled, and moss and ivy have overtaken most of the buildings. Like Valhalla, it died a long, long time ago. But unlike the haven Odin made for the Valkyrie here, Asgard won't rise again. There are no gods left to breathe life back into its hallowed halls.

When Asgard fell during Ragnarok, it fell forever.

A branch snaps behind me as I'm picking my way through the ruins of an old Fae building—an outpost of some sort, I think. My heart leaps into my throat, anxiety swirling through me.

Is it the Forsaken?

Ha! Unlikely. There are a dozen Fae warriors guarding the Portal every moment of the day. Tori and Reaper, her mate, spend most of their time at the Bifrost, too. She feels a connection to the Portal none of us do. The Fae have started calling her the Hireir , or Guardian. Reaper never looks happy when they say it.

More than likely, the sound is Stephan following me again. Frustrated confusion weaves through me at the reminder of the human warrior who acts like my shadow.

I don't understand him at all! When we're with the Fae, he always has a quick smile and a joke. But when he looks at me, he's always so somber and serious. He rarely speaks to me at all. And even though he's been following me ever since we came through the Portal, he never tries to approach me. He just…lurks in the shadows as if he thinks I won't notice him.

It's impossible to miss him!

He's beautiful in a rugged, battle-worn kind of way, with piercing gray eyes and scars that probably would have killed most men. But I don't think he's like most men. He's one of the few Blooded warriors the Fae have welcomed deep into their inner circle, treating him like an equal instead of someone in need of protection.

I think it's because he's so damn fierce. There's a solid vein of strength and resilience in him that's fascinating. When most of the warriors have given up for the day, too exhausted to continue rebuilding, he's still hard at work, sweat pouring from him as he manhandles logs into place or hammers away at nails with unfailing precision.

He was a Navy SEAL in a former life—before he came to live among the Fae, I mean. His training shows. He moves with the deadly grace of a predator, almost as fluidly as the Fae. The savage beauty of the man takes my breath away.

I can't deny the pull I feel toward him, even as his standoffish behavior confuses and frustrates me. I've tried to ignore the way my heart races when he looks at me, but it's becoming harder and harder to do. Especially since he insists on shadowing my every move, lurking just out of reach.

Another faint sound reaches me, and I duck behind a toppled pillar, reaching for my Light. It comes easily, flowing out of the almost limitless well and into me in bright rays that make my skin hum. I don't call much—not enough to give away my hiding spot. But if the Forsaken are out here, I intend to be ready. And if it's Stephan? Well, he doesn't get to hide in the shadows today.

It's my turn. And I've got questions.

I hold my breath, straining to hear.

For long moments, there's nothing but the rustle of leaves high up in the trees and the uneven thumping of my own heart. And then I hear him.

"Fuck," he mutters, his voice faint. But even faint, there's no mistaking that it's him following me. As usual.

I release my Light, allowing it to flow back into the well. But I don't reveal myself to him. Instead, I stay completely still as he approaches, intending to ambush him. He won't have a choice but to talk to me this time.

The thought fills me with a strange sense of satisfaction. I think I like the thought of being difficult for him. It serves him right.

A few seconds later, he strides past my hiding spot, muttering to himself too quietly for me to hear. But it's probably about me disappearing. Satisfaction thrums through me at the thought.

I wait until he's several steps ahead and then hop to my feet, stepping out onto the footpath behind him. "Why are you following me?"

He freezes midstep and then turns slowly to face me, those piercing eyes locking with mine. Amusement glints deep in their depths. So does some emotion I'm not sure I understand. But whatever it is sends a shiver through me.

Yet again, I'm struck by how beautiful he is. Even from a distance, he towers over me, strong and fierce.

"If you're going to hide, princess," he murmurs in his deep, rumbling voice, his eyes locked with mine. "You should pick a spot you can defend."

A scowl overtakes my face, my lips pulling down into a frown as I plant my hands on my hips to glare at him. "Who says I can't defend it?"

"I saw you before I ever got close, Kara. If I can see you, so can our enemies."

"We have no enemies here," I remind him.

"Yet."

That single word sends a chill ripping through me because he's right. We have no enemies here yet, but they are coming.

"You walked right past me," I argue instead of dwelling on that.

His lips quirk into a smile, pulling at the edges of a silvery scar near his upper lip. "I knew exactly where you were."

"That's because you're a stalker," I mutter, irritated. This is the most he's said to me in days, perhaps since Marion and Abigail found me hiding in Rand and Simek's cabin.

I know he hears me, but he says nothing. He simply stares at me.

"Why are you always following me?" I ask, determined to get at least one satisfactory response from him today. After two weeks of near silence, I think he owes me that much.

"Because you won't stay in one place, Valkyrie," he says as if that explains everything, but it doesn't. Not even close.

"Try again," I say, my voice flat.

"The Fae asked me to protect you."

"I doubt that request extends to lurking in the shadows, Stephan." I cross my arms, glaring at him. "And I doubt they meant for you to drop everything to follow me like you do."

"Then you don't know the Fae well, princess." His lips twitch again, his eyes still locked on my face. "You're Valkyrie. We protect the Valkyrie with our lives, even if it means we all die."

I don't miss the fact that he includes himself in the Fae camp. Interesting. Out of all the Blooded warriors here, he's most like them. Because he knows what it is to sacrifice? Because he's stared death in the face? I don't know.

I don't miss the way he keeps watching me, either. He's not being honest. At least, not entirely. The Fae may have asked him to watch me, and he may be willing to die to protect the Valkyrie. But that's not why he follows me like he does. It's not why he ignores me the way he does, either. That's something else.

I see it in his eyes. Even now, it glints there, burning bright. It almost looks like…regret mixed with longing? I'm not sure but seeing it glowing in his eyes makes my chest ache.

"You'd die for me, but you won't even talk to me."

"And that bothers you, princess?"

"Stop calling me that."

"Why?"

"I'm not a princess. That's Marion." She's literal Fae royalty. I'm just a girl from Seattle who happens to be a Valkyrie.

Stephan's lips twitch again. "You're Valkyrie, Kara. That's as close to royalty as you can get in this world." Something flickers in his gaze, his stance shifting as if he's uncomfortable. "You even look like a dainty little princess."

I snort. Loudly. There is nothing dainty or little about me. I'm short, yes. But I've also got more curves than I know what to do with. Growing up, I got teased about my weight a lot. Kids called me Karavan when they wanted to be particularly mean, and said it was because I was the size of a van. I've grown into my body since then, but I'll never be skinny or dainty.

"Maybe you need glasses," I mutter.

Stephan's brows wing together, his lips pulling down into a frown. "I don't need glasses, Valkyrie," he growls at me. "My eyes work just fine." He takes a step toward me. "Perhaps you're the one who doesn't see clearly."

"I see just fine," I mutter.

"Do you?" He takes another step in my direction. He's angry. Fury actually blazes in his eyes, like I've royally pissed him off. Lovely. "Who made you insecure, princess? Tell me."

"No one," I lie.

A warning growl rumbles in the back of his throat. "Tell me what warrior it was, and he'll never say another word to you."

"Like you don't?" I challenge. "No, thanks. The silent treatment from you is more than enough. I don't need it from the Fae, too. Besides, they've never said a bad word about me."

He stops moving toward me, seeming surprised. "You think I'm giving you the silent treatment?"

"This is the most you've spoken to me since we met, Stephan." I throw my hands up, exasperated. "You usually follow behind me, hiding in the shadows just to avoid speaking to me."

"Is that what you think?"

"It's what you do!" I cry, and then grimace when my voice echoes around us, hovering for a protracted moment high up in the branches.

"I hurt your feelings," he says after a moment.

"No," I lie, avoiding his gaze. It's true, though. As much as I hate to admit it, it does hurt my feelings that he won't talk to me. I'm…wildly attracted to him. Perhaps a little too attracted to him. "Maybe I don't like feeling like a chore."

"Guarding you could never be a chore, princess. It's an honor. You're Valkyrie."

I roll my eyes, irritated all over again. He says it like I'm a foreign species. Everyone around here acts like I'm a foreign species. I miss being Kara, the weird girl with no friends. "You know what? Never mind. Just go back to hiding in the shadows, and I'll go back to pretending I don't see you doing it."

"Kara, wait." He grabs my arm as I stomp past him, and Light surges through me in a fiery nimbus, crackling like energy.

I cry out softly, stunned at how different it feels than normal. This is pure liquid fire surging through my veins, setting me ablaze. For a split second, it's almost like I feel him in my mind, settling into place there. Desire pulses like a vein of gold between us, bright and hot.

"Fuck," he growls, releasing me as if he feels it too.

I stumble back a step, staring at him in shock as the feeling immediately vanishes. My heart pounds, confusion swirling through me. Whatever that was, I didn't call it. I don't think he is, either. It just happened. "W-what was that?"

"An impossibility," he says, and then clenches his jaw as if to keep himself from saying anything further.

As if I'm going to be satisfied with that answer. I narrow my eyes on him, prepared to demand an explanation—one that doesn't suck. But as soon as I open my mouth, a ripple of…sensation reaches me, like a soft brush against my mind.

This one is all too familiar. I've felt some version of it my entire life.

When I was younger, I thought everyone did. It wasn't until I was older that I realized that wasn't the case, and animals didn't speak to everyone. They just spoke to me.

And this one desperately wants to see me.

"Ing," I whisper, spinning around to hurry into the woods, not really caring if Stephan follows me or not. He can stay here with his cryptic answers and confusing looks and frustrating silence.

Liar , a little voice whispers. You want him to follow you.

It's not entirely wrong, dammit.

I do want him to follow me. More and more lately, I always want him to follow me. I just wish he felt the same way.