Chapter 5 #2
A small leather flask sat in his hand. Elara stared at it as if it were a serpent that might strike. The idea of this man having a mother, a healer no less, seemed to go against her beliefs about who this demon was.
She hesitated, fingers hovering over the offered pouch.
“It is not poison. If I wished to kill you, I would have done so with my blade and saved myself the torture of having you here.”
He spoke as if he were the victim in this scenario. Like it pained him to be in her presence. Her stomach twisted, and she huffed.
Lips parting, she took the vial, tipping the contents into her mouth. The tart tang of berries washed away the worst of the acrid sting.
“Come. Sit down for a while and eat something,” he said, gesturing toward the room at the far end of the ship.
As much as she wanted to fight him, the blade digging into the spot behind her eye begged her otherwise. It had been almost two days since she had had any food.
The venison stew she shared with her father around the fire now felt like a lifetime ago.
When they arrived behind the hide, her knees gave out and she nearly collapsed on the furs. Strong hands gripped her hips, and her traitorous body relaxed into him as he helped her down.
“Here.”
He handed her a bowl of dried meat, placing another one filled with berries beside her. Without looking away from him, she brought a piece to her mouth. The spices weren’t too overpowering, her stomach unclenching a little more with each bite she took.
The Dane leaned against the wall, busying himself with whittling while she ate. It was the picture of domestic quietude. And it made her more uneasy than if he held a knife to her throat.
It didn’t take long for her to empty both bowls and the skin of water.
“More?” he asked, eyes flicking up from his carving.
She shook her head, and he grunted in response. Light spilled in, casting him in half shadow, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw. The silver eye glowed like moonlight, the veins in his hand bulging as he whittled the wood.
The world quieted when he was near. No whispers. Almost like the draugar were afraid of him. She still knew so little of the creatures plaguing her, having only a name and nothing more.
An itch bloomed in her palm, and her nails scraped over the spot.
Perhaps she could find something helpful in this situation.
Maybe this Dane’s clan knew of the draugar, could tell her why they wanted her. Why she saw the things she saw. Why she felt a pulse radiate beneath her fingers.
His gruff baritone cut through her wandering thoughts.
“Why did you step between my blade and your father?”
A furrow creased her brow as her hands fell into her lap. Looking up through thick lashes, she gazed at him, his whittling forgotten. Toned muscles and faded scars wove along his skin, highlighting his victories.
She doubted he had any failures.
Did he expect her answer to differ from his own?
“Would you not do the same for your mother?” A muscle ticced in his jaw, and his chin dipped.
“Before my mother passed, I promised her I’d look after my father.
I wanted to honor that. I love him. He has loved me through the pain of losing his soulmate.
And selfishly,” she added, the final words a mutter, “I couldn’t survive if I lost him too. He’s all I have left.”
The confession lodged in her throat. Maybe death for them would have been a kindness. Then at least they would have been with her mother and brother again.
A family.
Something between pity and pride alighted in the depths of his eyes. They held each other’s stare, and he peeled away more of her defenses. Her gaze darted to the side, too exposed under his knowing eyes.
Flashes of flames and gold waters shimmered in her mind.
Indistinct whispers stirred in the shadows.
Before they took shape, Alruna appeared in a wisp of black smoke, a purring growl silencing the sinister taunts before they started. The panther stared at the Dane, sitting beside Elara while her fingers stroked the soft fur.
Now more than ever, she was sure he saw Alruna, but he said nothing. His eyes roamed from side to side, processing what she had said. Alruna settled. Elara wondered if this Dane might have answers.
“What is Fólkvangr?”
His entire body flexed before relaxing once more. For a breath, she worried he’d deny her. All she needed to know was her mother’s soul was not trapped somewhere.
He rocked off the wall, crossing his forearms.
“The realm of the slain. It is a great honor to reside in Fólkvangr. Some say Valhalla claims warriors for Ragnarok while Fólkvangr takes those pure of spirit and strength. All warriors hope for a noble death where they might spend their afterlife dining in either realm.”
“So someone who died trying to fend off a wolf attack may go to Fólkvangr?”
“Yes. Wolves are fierce predators. A death in battle deems someone worthy of Fólkvangr.”
“Is it like Heaven? Is it a peaceful place?”
“That is where your one god resides, yes?”
“Yes.”
“If the stories are to be believed, it is a vast emerald meadow. One bathed in liquid light where the honorable feast. It is said to offer serenity to those lucky enough to be chosen by Freyja to reside in her house.”
Silent tears slid down her face, and Alruna nuzzled closer, the panther nearly in her lap, purring.
Every night, Elara worried her mother suffered, never knowing eternal rest. It was her fault she died. She had only been in the woods that day because Elara wanted fresh flowers to line an arch in the far field.
The guilt ate at her, festering until it eroded all the happiness she once felt.
“Your mother?” he rasped.
“A wolf attacked her while gathering wildflowers. She died from her injuries a year ago.”
“My heart aches for yours,” he said, bowing his head.
“Thank you,” she whispered, meaning it, hearing the truth in his voice.
Finally, her tears stopped, and her chest expanded with a calming breath.
A shadow shifted, the towering man moving closer. She had no idea how long they sat like there. The Dane didn’t seem to mind, kneeling by the furs as much a steadying force as Alruna.
His massive palm slid along her face, his thumb feathering over her freckles.
“Rest, little flame.”
The warmth of his touch fading, his back retreating through the hide until all she was left with was a million thoughts.