Page 38 of The Viking in the Vault
“No,” I whisper as his knees buckle.
He sways, his breath ragged, but his gaze stays locked on mine, one hand shooting out to steady himself. “Elena,” he rasps.
Ragnar collapses before he can finish my name, his massive frame hitting the ground with a heavy thud beside Fenrik. The sound echoes in my ears, and my breath catches as I drop to my knees beside him.
“Ragnar…Fenrik…” My voice cracks as I press my hand to Ragnar’s chest, feeling the steady but sluggish thrum of his heartbeat. He’s still breathing, but it feels like the world has stopped spinning.
Dr. Kallipso steps forward, her voice sharp but not unkind. “Elena, I know this is upsetting, but you need to listen to me.”
I glance up at her, blinking back tears. “You didn’t have to sedate them! He wasn’t going to hurt anyone!”
“He’s unpredictable,” she says, her tone softening slightly. “You saw that for yourself. We can’t risk him harming someone—or himself. It’s for his safety as much as anyone else’s.”
I glare at her, my voice trembling with anger. “You don’t know him. He’s not some monster.”
Her expression tightens, and she crouches slightly to meet my gaze. “I don’t think he’s a monster, Elena. But he’s not like us. He’s from a time and place we don’t fully understand. Until we can be sure he’s safe—medically and otherwise—this is necessary. You have to see that.”
I shake my head, my fingers curling against Ragnar’s chest. “He’s already been around people! We were just at the park yesterday, he was playing with his dog. Professor Ferhalda said?—”
“Ferhalda isn’t in charge of this situation,” Dr. Kallipso interrupts, her voice firm but not cruel. “I’m the one who dropped the ball as chief supervisor at the Eiskammer, and the protocols are clear. Any potential exposure to ancientpathogens must be contained and studied before reentry into the population.”
“And what about me?” I snap. “I’ve been with him this whole time. If he’s carrying something, wouldn’t I already?—”
“You’ll be tested too,” she says, standing straight again. “You’ll both be taken to a secure facility. He’ll have access to medical care, translators, and anything else he needs to adjust to this world. And you’ll be there to help him–just for a few days.”
Her words take a moment to sink in. “I’ll…be with him?”
“Yes,” she says. “You’ll have to come with us. But we’ll give you time to get dressed and pack what you need. He’ll be transported first.” Her gaze flicks over me, and I catch the faintest hint of disapproval. “I suggest you take a moment to…compose yourself.”
Heat rises to my cheeks, and I realize how this must look—Ragnar shirtless on the floor, me in my wrinkled pajamas, my hair a mess. But the sting of embarrassment is quickly swallowed by worry as I look back at him. He looks so vulnerable, so unlike the towering, unbreakable warrior I’ve come to know.
“I need to go with him now,” I say, my voice shaking.
Dr. Kallipso shakes her head. “We’ll take him first. He needs immediate attention. You’ll follow in a separate transport shortly after. This isn’t negotiable, Draycott.”
I open my mouth to argue, but the look in her eyes tells me it’s pointless. I glance down at Ragnar again, brushing a strand of his dark hair away from his face. He’s still warm, still breathing steadily. I try to tell myself that he’ll be okay, but it feels hollow.
Dr. Kallipso steps back, giving a signal to the team. Two Skoll guards move forward, lifting Ragnar’s unconscious form onto a stretcher with some effort. Two more carefully liftFenrik, cradling the massive skarnhound and loading him onto a separate stretcher.
“Please,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “Be gentle with them.”
“We will,” Dr. Kallipso says. “They’re not our enemies, Elena. But we need to do this right.”
I watch helplessly as they carry Ragnar and Fenrik out of the cottage. The cold rushes in through the open door, but I barely feel it. My heart aches as the door closes behind them, leaving me alone in the now-quiet space.
Dr. Kallipso lingers for a moment, her expression softening slightly. “You care about him,” she says, not as a question but as a statement.
I nod, unable to speak.
“Then help him by cooperating,” she says. “He’ll need you when he wakes up.”
With that, she turns and follows the team outside, leaving me standing there, trembling and overwhelmed. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, and move to pack what little I can.
Because she’s right. Ragnar will need me.
And I’ll be damned if I let him face this alone.
16
