Chapter 20
Although the tome of myths sits closed on Mor’s bed, I’ve no doubt she’s found my scribbled entry. This must be what carried her to Nordin’s door.
How could I be so stupid? I will never put any thought on paper again.
I push off the wall and snatch the book, then thumb through the pages until I locate the ones stained with my writing. I tear them out and walk them to the open hearth, intent on erasing every damning word before anyone else can pore over them.
Just before feeding them to the fire, I find myself rereading the entry. When I get to the end, my nerves have quieted. It isn’t as incriminating as I thought it would be. If anything, it’s mostly damning for Ulf.
But then why did she march to Nordin’s door? Could it really be nothing more than fear that I’d tried to escape?
I’m so shocked by the possibility I overreacted that I find myself sinking cross-legged on the rug, crinkling the loose sheets in my fingers.
When Mor finally returns, I’m still sitting beside the firepit.
As her fingers jerk the clasp of her cloak open, I study her expression. Despite her brusque movements, she seems…not as angry as earlier.
“I’m sorry I worried you, Mor. I’ll leave a note next time.”
Her lids close, and then she’s squeezing the bridge of her nose. “There will be no next time.”
A breath punches out of my lungs. “You can’t lock me in this house—”
“What I meant is that you cannot—” Her knuckles whiten from how hard she pinches. “You cannot go see Nordin again. Not alone.”
My earlier worries weren’t unfounded. Still, I feign naivety. “Why not?”
“Don’t make me say it. Please. I’m already having such trouble coming to terms with the mere idea of it that I cannot—”
“The mere idea that I have a crush on a male who happens to be my non-blood-related cousin?”
My mother’s eyes flip open, settling first on the book pages in my hands before climbing to my face.
“It’s only a silly crush, Mor,” I lie. “Surely you’ve had your fair share of unrequited crushes in your youth?” When she keeps staring at me as though I were an adolescent wolf chasing her own tail, I shrug and heap on a deceitful assurance. “It’ll pass.”
Her throat stirs over a deep swallow. “I raised you with more integrity and pride than to have you lie to my face.”
I flinch as though she’d slapped me. “What exactly did Nordin tell you?”
She flings me a wry smile. “Nothing. At first.”
My pulse quickens.
“But then I mentioned Ulf wanting you to take Havrik up on his proposal, and he had suddenly much more to say.”
I suck in air. “You shouldn’t have told him.”
“Why?” She tilts her head. “Isn’t it the truth?”
I suck at my teeth. “Because Nordin is protective. And he hates Havrik. If he thinks Ulf is truly considering setting me up with him, he’ll…” I try to come up with an ending to that sentence. One that doesn’t hint at the fact that my crush is requited.
“He’ll what? Go see my brother and verbally assault him like I did when I read your journal entry?”
Another deep breath whooshes down my lungs. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t want to cause trouble…”
Although my eyes are on the sheaths shivering in my hands, I don’t miss how she closes in on me and kneels.
“Just like I’m asking you never to lie to me again, I’m asking you never to keep anything of this magnitude from me. You’re allowed your secrets, but not those that threaten your safety. Am I understood?”
I nod, my still averted stare heating. Mor reaches for my wrists and clasps them.
“Good. Now let’s have that chat.”
“About Havrik…?”
“No. Put that buffoon out of your mind. If he so much as says your name, I will eviscerate him. That is, if Nordin doesn’t beat me to it… Though I suspect my nephew will sooner scalp him than torture him.”
However outrageous, all I feel in that moment is an overflow of affection for Mor and Nordin.
“I can’t believe my brother.” She shudders.
“He doesn’t want enmity with the Ravines.”
“That’s not his only reason for doing it, but you sussed that out, didn’t you?”
I snag my lower lip and peek up at her. “I did. Is this how you found out about my crush?”
“Shall I remind you that we live together. Don’t you think I witnessed you falling for Nordin over the years?”
“Saga didn’t.”
“Saga isn’t the most observant. Mind you, the young rarely are.
They’re so caught up in their own world that everything around them could burn to the ground, and they wouldn’t take notice until the flames licked their boots.
Before you call me harsh, understand that I’m speaking from personal experience.
It might be hard for you to believe, but I was young once upon a time. ”
A smile softens the squareness of her jaw.
“Anyway…I didn’t dwell too hard on your crush at first because it wasn’t reciprocal.
” A pained grimace reshapes her face. “The instant it became so, I dwelled. I dwelled and I worried. I’d hoped Nordin wouldn’t notice you’d bloomed into a woman for several more years.
I’d hoped he might even find a mate—Don’t look at me like that.
Nordin is wonderful, but Nordin is this valley you long to escape.
He’s part of its bedrock. He will never leave. ”
Her throat dips, and a tremor dances along her fingers.
“Even though I’d love nothing more than to keep you at my side forever, I think that staying still, staying here, tucked away from the world, will end up suffocating you, Zaskja. I think he’ll end up suffocating you.”
My nose burns. My lids too.
“My darling.” She squeezes my wrist bones. “You know that all I’m telling you right now is coming from a place of love?”
“Are you going to ship me to Ljosam?r?” I ask, my voice breaking on every other syllable.
“No. I would never ship you anywhere.”
“I meant after Taeric Skarnir passes away from his curse.”
Her breath snags in her throat, escaping in a rasp. “How…? Who…?”
“Saga. She told me about his curse.”
“What…?” She licks her lips. “What exactly did your cousin tell you?” Her words are measured.
“That he was dying from an Empress curse. That the vampyrs were scrambling to kill off the remaining Thorn descendants, but that they probably wouldn’t succeed in time.
” A sigh slides into my rumpled lungs, inflating them until the creases of heartache have smoothed.
“I know you don’t want people talking about valkyries around me, but why didn’t you ever tell me? ”
“Because I worried you’d take it upon yourself to fix it.”
“Because I’m a valkyrie?” My eyebrows lift. “I have no magic. But let’s suppose I did… Would undoing an old curse have been such a bad thing?”
“It would’ve been a dangerous thing. It would’ve put you in the middle of a long-standing war. Not telling you was my way of protecting you.”
“You asked me for honesty, Mor. I’ll give you honesty, but I want the same from you in return.”
She lets go of my wrists to present me with her palm. “Shall we shake on it?”
I seize her fingers without hesitation, wanting out of my pit of adolescence and innocence. Never has a handshake felt so significant.
Once our fingers come apart, she fusses with one of the many battle braids woven into my long hair. She unravels it, then unpicks all the others.
“Will you and Ulf be all right?” I ask.
She brushes out my mane. “Yes. So long as he honors his word to keep Havrik away.”
As she plaits new, slender braids, I say, “I’d never jeopardize Nordin’s chances to become Alpha. I hope you know that.”
She’s quiet for so long that I’m tempted to peek over my shoulder at her. Nevertheless, I don’t, finding it easier to keep my attention on the rug and the loose loop of yarn I’m wheedling with my index finger.
“I know, but I also know that the flesh is weak, and that closed doors—especially locked ones—offer a false sense of security.” She ties off another braid with a fine strip of leather.
“Are you disgusted?” I dare to ask.
“No. If Nordin had been your true cousin, then yes, but…he’s not.”
“He’s older, though.”
“When you’re immortal, age isn’t a benchmark for measuring the rightness of a love bond.
Would I have preferred you to develop a crush on someone nearer your own age?
Yes. I think it would’ve been easier. And possibly more fun, since you would’ve discovered everything together. ” A wistful tonality infuses her voice.
“Tell me about your first crush,” I say.
And she does. My mouth slackens when I learn it was Koppar. My teacher, Koppar! The father of the pups she just delivered, Koppar! How…unexpected.
“Did you love him?”
“I loved being with him. We had fun. A lot of fun.” Her mouth curves. “Which I will not tell you about because I’m your mother.”
“Have you…?” I lick my lips. “Since I came into your life, have you been with anyone?”
“No.”
“Would you like to?”
“Perhaps once you leave me.”
“I’ll never leave you,” I hiss.
She sweeps a caress over my cheek. “What I meant is that one day, you will leave your childhood home. And not only for one night or two, but for good.”
By childhood home, does she mean this pit house or this wintry land ruled by shifters where the sun reigns for half the year and the moon claims the rest?
“Once Taeric dies…” I muse.
“Yes. Once he dies and the vampyrs have fled Isrike.”
With a sigh, I say, “I wish I could leave now. Spend the next twelve months exploring the world.” Not only would it make time pass more quickly, but it would also keep me from crossing a dangerous line.
“And I wish I had the power to grant you this wish.”
“How long do you think Taeric has left?”
“It depends on the progression of his curse.”
I find myself wishing he died soon so I could voyage to Ljosam?r and be back in time to celebrate my official transition into adulthood here, with Nordin. Mor might believe that this valley will stifle my spirit, but leaving would stifle my heart.
A week later, a chorus of shrill howls dashes my hopes.
Lantern swinging from my fingers, I burst out of my opal cave and squint down at the valley, finding a steady flux of white beasts carving through the village streets, heading in the direction of the trail I climbed earlier. The one that leads to the pass.
I snap my neck back and stare into the afternoon gloom at the sky, my breath catching when I make out thunderous wingbeats snapping against the moonless indigo.
The Hasam?ris have finally come.
Their dragons circle the valley, staying level with its craggy peaks thanks to Fenrir’s protective wards.
Though I’m still at a distance from the summit pass, I’m perched high enough to count the number of winged beasts and discern the hue of their underbellies—four silvers, seven hematites, and one onyx.
The Vampyr King isn’t lying on his deathbed; he’s treading our sky.