Page 34 of The Viking in the Vault
And she’s worried.
Her words are muffled, the tone carrying more than the meaning itself. I don’t understand the language, but I don’t have to; the ache in her voice is enough. It’s an ache I feel when I think about those I left behind on Kanin…a family roughly the same size as Elena’s.
A mother. An absent father. Three little sisters.
Mine are long gone, but Elena’s are still on her homeworld, and I find myself worrying for them.
Fenrik lifts his head from his place near the fire, his ears twitching toward her door. He whines softly, a low, questioningsound, before resting his head back down. Even he can sense it—whatever weight she’s carrying. I stare at her closed door, my fingers twitching with the urge to knock, to step inside and…what? Fix it?
What could I possibly offer her? I am a relic of a time she cannot fathom, and she is struggling with a world I don’t yet understand. I would only make it worse, wouldn’t I? She needs space. Privacy.
I tell myself that, over and over, like a chant meant to calm the storm building inside me. I force myself to settle deeper into the blankets, my body rigid at first. The fire crackles softly, its warmth pressing against my skin, but it doesn’t soothe me. Not when I can still hear her, speaking low and strained.
Still, I try to close my eyes. My chest tightens as her voice softens even more, barely audible now. My fists clench, the tension threading through my body like a taut bowstring. I want to go to her. I want to know what’s wrong.
But I don’t.
I stay where I am, sinking into the warmth of the blankets and the firelight, forcing myself to breathe. Slowly, steadily, the sound of her voice begins to fade, replaced by the low hum of the night and the rhythmic crackle of the fire. My muscles relax, inch by inch, and my eyelids grow heavier.
Even as I drift off, though, the echo of her worry lingers. It follows me into sleep like a shadow, weaving itself into the edges of my dreams…
Then, a sound.
I jolt awake, feeling like only a few seconds have passed. The fire has burned to coals, though, and Fenrik is gone. It takes me only a moment to find him standing at Elena’s door, scratching at the wood, whining softly. I sit up, instantly alert, my heart pounding. Fenrik whines again, louder this time, and I hear Elena now.
Soft, uneven breaths.
Crying.
I’m on my feet before I even consider it, crossing the room in a few quick strides. Fenrik scratches the door again, more insistent. If she’s in danger…
I slam the door open.
Elena sits up with a jolt, clutching the blankets around her, eyes wide. Her dark hair falls in messy curls down her back and over her shoulders, the soft glow up snow-lit moonlight filtering in through the window. Her holopad is resting in her lap, illuminating the shimmering tears in her eyes.
I don’t get a chance to ask what’s wrong–because Fenrik launches himself into the bed.
He practically knocks her down, and I worry at first that he’s lost his mind–but he starts licking her face, working hard to stop her crying. “Fenrik!” I shout, striding forward and reaching for him. “Fenrik, stop…”
The words die in my throat when I realize Elena is laughing, even through her tears. The holopad slips off the bed and thuds to the floor, but she doesn’t care; Fenrik seems to have had the correct solution to her problem.
I slump, leaning against the doorframe as the tension drains out of me. My heart is still pounding, but seeing her smile–even if it’s because of Fenrik’s antics–is enough to ease the tight grip of worry in my chest.
“Fenrik,” she scolds lightly, sitting up now and sniffling. She wipes at her face with one hand and the other scratches behind Fenrik’s ears. “Ragnar…”
Her eyes flick up to me now, and her breath hitches. My robe has fallen open to reveal my chest–and she’s seen enough of me that I feel it should be less exciting now, but she blushes, even in the dim light.
“I’ll go,” I murmur, gesturing toward the door. “Fenrik–”
“Come?” she asks in Skoll.
Then she pats the bed beside her…an invitation.
I freeze, not sure how I should respond. I know what I want, but I don’t know what’s best for Elena. If I’m in her bed…will I be able to control myself?
Fenrik looks up at me, wagging his tail.
Nothing is going to happen. I need to comfort her.
