Page 72 of The Viking in the Vault
The admission feels raw, scraped out of me, and I immediately wish I hadn’t said anything at all. Ragnar is silent for a long moment, his fingers flexing slightly against my hip. Then, finally?—
“I do not understand.”
I blink, turning my head to look at him. “…What?”
His brow furrows. “Divorce.” He says the word carefully, and I realize there's no Ancient Skoll equivalent; even the concept is alien to him. “What does this mean?”
I stare at him. “You don’t know what divorce is?”
He lets out a slightly irritated growl. “I understand that it is…ending a mating bond?” His frown deepens. “But why?”
I open my mouth, then close it again, struggling for words. “I mean…sometimes people just don’t love each other anymore.”
His frown turns incredulous. “That is a thing that can happen?”
“Yes,” I say slowly. “It happens all the time.”
His expression darkens further, like the very idea offends him. “No. That is not right.”
I let out a breathy, humorless laugh. “Ragnar, it is right. It’s just…life.”
“No,” he says again, sharper this time. “Not my life. Not our life.” His grip tightens slightly on my hip, his other hand coming up to cup my jaw, tilting my face toward his. “You take a mate, and you spend the rest of your days worshipping her. You do not leave.”
His voice is firm, resolute. Like this is just an undeniable truth of the universe.
And maybe it is. Maybe in his world, in his time, things were different. Maybe love wasn’t something temporary, something that withered when it stopped being convenient.
I swallow hard, my throat tight. “It’s not always that simple.”
“It is that simple,” he insists, his voice rough with conviction. “When my people take a mate, we keep them. There can be no other.” His thumb strokes along my cheekbone, his expression turning almost angry. “Did your father not understand this?”
I let out a short, bitter laugh. “Apparently not.”
Ragnar makes a low, displeased noise, his hand sliding to my nape, his fingers tangling in my hair as if it proves he's hanging on tight. “He is a fool.”
I shake my head. “Maybe. But it doesn’t matter now.”
“It does matter,” Ragnar rumbles. “Because you are his daughter. You carry his wounds.” His grip tightens, his gaze burning into mine. “And you think I will leave you like he did.”
I press my lips together, not answering.
Because the truth is—I do think that. Not because I don’t believe Ragnar, not because I think he’s lying when he says he won’t go.
But because forever isn’t real. Not with fathers, not houses…not planets.
It never has been.
Ragnar exhales, but he's still so intense that I feel almost afraid of what he'll say next.. “Elena,” he murmurs. “I will never leave you.”
My throat feels tight. “You can’t promise that.”
He pulls back just enough to look at me, his expression hard, unshakable. “I do not make promises lightly.”
I close my eyes. “Maybe not.”
His hand tightens at my nape. “Look at me.”
I do.
