Page 57 of The Viking in the Vault
I shoot them a murderous look.
“It means,” Ragnar says, undeterred, “that our souls were forged to complete one another.”
Cosmia looks downright enchanted. “That’s…kind of romantic,” she admits, sipping her drink.
Rishik, ever the academic, seems to be deep in thought. “So it’s a metaphysical bond? Biologically enforced? Cultural? You say ‘bonded’—is there a process? A ritual?”
Ragnar nods solemnly, like this is the most natural conversation in the world. “Yes. Once the bond is recognized, the Skoll must claim their mate. To ensure their connection is secured, it is best done through physical?—”
“Okay!” I slam my hands on the table, my entire body on fire, brain melting into goo, everything in me screaming for an emergency topic change.
The entire table erupts into laughter.
I want to die. I want to crawl into the bubbling hotpot and let it swallow me whole.
Ragnar frowns, confused, as if he truly doesn’t understand why everyone finds this so funny. “Did I say something amusing?”
I bury my face in my hands, trying desperately to breathe through my mortification. As if he can sense my distress, Fenrik nudges my hand with his nose.
“Oh, Ragnar,” Ves sighs, clearly having the time of their life. “I love this for you—I really do—but, uh…you do realize that other species aren’t quite as…” They wave a hand vaguely in the air, searching for the right words. “As, uh…free love as ours, right?”
Ragnar blinks slowly at them. “What do you mean?”
Ves shoots me a quick glance, probably reveling in the fact that my face is burning. “I mean that the Skoll are a little…let’s say, enthusiastic, about these things. Other Pact species don’t tend to talk about fate and soul bonds and claiming quite so casually over dinner.”
Ragnar frowns, clearly considering this. “Why would they not?”
I groan into my hands. “Oh my god.”
“Because,” Ves continues, using their Teacher Voice, “most species don’t see relationships as this absolute, right off the bat. There’s a whole thing about taking it slow, easing into it, maybe not declaring ownership of your mate in the middle of a restaurant.”
Ragnar tilts his head like this is a fascinating new concept. “But why?”
Rishik leans back in his chair, amused but thoughtful, his claws tapping rhythmically against his cup. “Perhaps because not all cultures share the same instinctual certainty. You said the bond is recognized—but what happens if a Skoll were to reject it?”
Ragnar looks at him like he just suggested carving out his own heart. “Reject a bond?” His voice is full of genuine bewilderment, his gaze flickering to me like the very idea is impossible to comprehend. “Why would they?”
Ves laughs, shaking their head. “Oh, buddy. You really are old-school.” They stab a piece of meat from the platter and drop it into the broth before adding, “You know, some modern Skoll don’t even take mates anymore.”
Ragnar visibly stiffens. “That is not possible.”
“It is,” Ves grins. “Some of us like our freedom. Some don’t feel the pull as strongly. And some just don’t feel like getting tied down.”
Ragnar looks vaguely horrified. “But?—”
I clear my throat, trying to rescue this conversation before he has a full-on existential crisis. “What Ves is gently trying to say, Ragnar, is that most people—especially humans—don’t talk about things like soul bonds and fate and claiming like it’s…just a regular relationship step. It’s kind of a big deal.”
Ragnar frowns, glancing at me. “It is a big deal. That is why it must be spoken plainly.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Yes, but maybe not over hotpot.”
Cosmia, clearly enjoying herself, props her chin on her hands. “I don’t know, I think it’s sweet.”
Ves groans, exasperated. “That’s because you’re a romantic, Cos.”
Cosmia shrugs, unapologetic. “Sure. But I mean, c’mon—fated soulmates? A love that transcends time and space? A bondthat can’t be broken? That’s the kind of thing people dream about.”
Ragnar nods approvingly at her. “Exactly.”
