Chapter 30
Drak
Memories of Erik from my boyhood kept me company during the long, treacherous climb up the sunlit mountain, though Lux’s presence was the better comfort.
She eased the grief in my chest—grief that shouldn’t have existed, since my father, in this life and the last, had died long ago.
But the memories made it feel fresh and immediate.
I grieved not only for Erik, but for the farm we once lived on and the longships he built before he died at sea. For the path I’d wanted to follow in his footsteps, building ships like him to impress the fisherman’s daughter. Fierce little Myrah. Skald. My warrior friend.
Lux seemed to understand that my silence came from some ancient pain as she walked beside me, her hand brushing the back of mine.
Yggdrasil stood at the summit of Vylheim, the highest point on this known land.
We couldn’t see it yet, but its presence surrounded me, pulsing like the beat of the heart I did not have.
Pressure mounted with every step, and my limbs grew heavier.
I silently cursed Odin for hating me just because he didn’t create me.
Myrah created me.
I stole a glance at Lux. Despite her weak heart, she remained fixed on the path ahead, moving over dry ground that no longer looked like scorched stained earth. It looked more like the soil of a world I could recognize. The fog lifted as we neared Yggdrasil.
At the tree, Odin and Freya didn’t have to rely on witches and battles to access this world. Even miles out from the base of Yggdrasil, the sagas foretold the gods’ reach. Like the outstretched arm of the divine, they could influence the elements here.
This was the center of the nine realms, the place of knowledge, where Odin hung to gain wisdom, and I’d do the same. The image of grabbing him by the throat and ripping him out of Lux’s mind kept my feet driving forward.
The sun’s weight tied itself around my limbs like an invisible force pushing me back, back, back. I ground my jaw, my back teeth nearly cracking as I fought against the gods’ influence. Nothing beyond Lux gave me relief.
Only her voice eased the hours spent ascending the steep slope to Yggdrasil. Her questions kindled a fire within me as she processed the former lifetime I’d shared with her.
“You really saw us,” she hesitated, “at that altar?”
I saw far more than just us at the altar.
After recalling our childhood meeting, hundreds of memories flooded back.
Memories of training together for battles to come, my sword crashing against her shield.
Memories of firelight flitting across her face as she recounted stories of us as Odin’s chosen, envied by those who lived across the sea.
Memories of taking her on the floor of our home, our bodies entwined over furs, and then sharing a cup of mead before drifting to sleep with our hair and limbs tangled.
My jaw was tight with the ache of sunlight piercing the fog, so I just nodded instead of saying all of that to her.
The dense air faded, and the sun’s rays grew harsher, battering down on us with ruthless intensity.
It never changed, never wavered from its stagnant spot in the sky.
I squinted against it, thankful for the mask and leathers shielding my body.
Though the sagas alleged vampires burned beneath the sun, it was far less a firestorm than the skalds described. Our flesh steamed, and the wound was a persistent sting, eroding our strength hour by hour. The sun felt endless here, as Odin had apparently instructed Sunna to prolong daylight.
Night might never come.
At least the perpetual winter’s chill afforded some respite, cooling the skin the sun grazed, but it was barely enough to ward off the weariness dragging at my bones.
“What’s wrong?” Lux asked.
I pinched my eyes shut and forced my foot in front of me. “The sun…”
“So it begins.”
My eyes strayed from the sky to her face, the sun permeating through her auburn braids and setting them alight.
She grew stronger and healthier as we neared Yggdrasil.
A faint radiance illuminated the patches of her skin visible beneath the mask, and as soon as we spotted the tree, she’d probably be able to remove it entirely and breathe freely.
“I’m fine,” I insisted, knowing Yggdrasil was on the horizon and she’d come alive.
She let out a laugh. “You’re fucking impossible, you know that?
” Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and I couldn’t help the smirk twisting my lips.
She had spat my words back at me, and for that, I loved her.
Nobody else dared to argue with me. Nobody else cared whether I lived or died.
Now I had a shield-maiden, a woman who knew her worth and who worried about my suffering.
Lux had a fire for life that this fucked-up world had robbed from the rest of us.
She survived and persisted in a way that I once did when I chose to become a vampire. Where others were dull and gray, she was orange and red with brilliant shades of black and white. Nothing about her personality was hazy.
Even if she didn’t know exactly who she was, I did.
She was my wife and the same woman I vowed to follow into every lifetime.
Lux became what the occasion required—dark for rage and death, blazing with fury when survival demanded it, and calm when stillness was necessary.
Even before the gods intervened, she met her execution with composure, finding peace in her fate rather than fighting it, despite her mental turmoil.
She saw all my pain, even the parts I fought to hide with every pulse of Sunna’s rays.
Fuck, I loved Lux. For seeing everything I suppressed. I’d loved her when we were training together a lifetime ago, and I loved her for seeing the warrior in me, even before she knew I was the only vampire king who maintained an armory and trained with a sword.
“And when we married, you said you’d follow me?” she asked. Did she remember? In that moment, the sun’s oppressive weight felt as if it had lifted. “Like you did for our fake wedding?”
I swallowed and peeled my lips apart. “I swore to follow you, yes.”
“Why?”
Her curiosity appeared, shimmering like tears of joy at the base of her eyelids. The red lines that shot through the whites of her eyes had faded, and she appeared brighter and more voluminous than ever.
“Because I would have given anything for you.” I would give anything for her.
She hummed thoughtfully. “Because you were my warrior, and I was the shield-maiden.”
My jaw went slack. Was I losing myself to the sun’s fatigue, or was I just desperate to hear what I wanted? Not wanting to face the possibility of her not remembering, I didn’t find the courage to ask why she had said that. There was already enough tugging at my limbs and dragging me back.
This could be another one of her lies because she knew I wasn’t strong enough for the truth right now.
But her lies never bothered me. The opposite, actually.
Recognizing her worth, she acted for her safety and survival, and I had immense respect for her darker nature.
I craved to see more of that darkness in her almost as much as I craved to know what made her say that.
Fuck it.
“Why did you call me Rune?” I asked. Ready or not.
Her chin tilted up, her mouth hanging open as she panted from the effort of climbing. Her legs must have been screaming by now, especially since I could no longer carry both her pack and my own. Didn’t the gods recognize that this damn sun was causing their precious chosen witch to suffer too?
Not that they cared for her suffering. They only wanted her for what she could do for them. I curled my fingers into fists and fumed as the fog cleared altogether. Winter air bit through the mesh in the mask, but the sun’s rays were just as aggressive.
If I wanted to follow Lux, I had to keep moving.
Her answer came at last. “I don’t know.”
“Is that the truth?”
“Why would I lie about that?”
“Because you don’t want me to know that you remember.”
Her brow creased under the mask, fine lines appearing around her eyes. “I’d have no reason to conceal that.”
“Except then you’d have to admit you loved me once, too.” Hel, I wanted that. I’d almost do anything to hear her say it, but nothing I did or said could control her feelings. That was entirely up to her.
“I’m Lux. I don’t know Myrah.”
“Good thing I love you no matter what you choose to call yourself.”
“I don’t remember any of this.”
There it was. A slight crack rippled through Lux’s voice every time she lied, like an iced-over lake splitting under the weight of a boot.
It was more obvious now that she didn’t lie daily.
She was slipping, on the verge of sinking beneath the surface and drowning in deceit.
More deceit would destroy her. That much I knew about my fake wife.
Her cheek trembled, and the scar etched across it pulled taut with the movement.
“You’re lying,” I said, holding her attention as if it were as fragile as the fractured lake. She jerked her head forward and shattered our tethered gaze. “You can’t look at me.”
“I don’t enjoy watching you suffer.”
I smirked. At least that wasn’t a lie. Her voice was as smooth as the ice’s surface this time, and when she snuck a quick glance, I chuckled.
I allowed us to fall into a comfortable silence for the next few hours, and sure enough, the sun didn’t budge. Night was not coming. I clenched my jaw, swallowed the pain, and wouldn’t allow Lux to witness her vision unfold.
But I could tell from her repeated, lingering looks that she remembered when we were together.