Page 83 of The Viking in the Vault
“We don’t have to do that right now,” she says softly. “We can…mark the coordinates. Come back.”
Kallisto lets out a long breath, considering. “Fine,” she says, though she doesn’t sound pleased. “Cosmia, Rishik—stay here and begin analysis. The rest of us will move forward.”
Cosmia and Rishik exchange glances, but they nod.
Elena lingers beside the pod as the others begin preparing to leave. Her gaze flickers between Syf’s frozen face and mine, hesitation knitting her brow.
“Were you two…” she pauses. “Did you?—”
“I’ve never loved another,” I interrupt, shaking my head. I go to Elena and take her hands, hoping she’ll forgive me. “But she wanted me to. I just hope…I hope I didn’t leave the others to die, too.”
I squeeze Elena’s hands, willing her to understand.
She swallows. Nods. But her expression is uncertain, and I hate it—I hate that I’ve made herunsure of me.
“I just need to know one thing,” she murmurs. “If she had been your—yourfenvarra…if fate had chosen her?—”
“I would have loved her,” I admit. “But she wasn’t. And I knew it. And she knew it, even when she refused to listen.”
Elena exhales, nodding again, more firmly this time. Her fingers tighten in mine.
“Ragnar, Elena,” Dr. Kallisto calls, impatient. “We need to move.”
I release Elena’s hands. The moment fractures.
Cosmia and Rishik have already set up their equipment, the soft hum of scanners filling the corridor. Kallisto is checkingcoordinates, muttering something to Davina. The others are shifting, restless.
And Fenrik—he’s staring down the corridor, like there’s more waiting for us, one paw raised, eyes unblinking. His tail wags once, but I can’t tell if it’s a sign that he’s eager to get moving…or that he scents something familiar.
Either way, I’m certain things are about to get far more complicated.
And I have to hope that Elena will stay by my side regardless.
29
ELENA
Ragnar is quiet and moody as we follow Fenrik through the tunnels, the skarnhound completely distracted by whatever it is that lies ahead—and I can tell Ragnar is frustrated when Dr. Kallisto calls it quits for the day. He wants to find something…but we’re only human.
Well, some of us. And even those who aren’t human don’t have the energy to keep exploring the sublevels all night.
We end up making camp at a waypoint deep in the Eiskammer, an old outpost Dr. Kallisto says dates back to when the vault was being carved out by the M’mir’i pioneers centuries ago. It’s one of several scattered throughout the Eiskammer: little pockets of warmth buried deep in the ice, half-forgotten but designed for longevity.
A passage off the main tunnel takes us into the outpost, and we find ourselves in what’s basically a giant igloo with private warming pods lining the edges. I’ve studied these kinds of things a little—they were developed by the Nyeri’i originally, places to escape to when their homeworlds started to collapse thanks to Elixir mining. We even thought about putting similar structures on Earth before we started real efforts to salvage our climate.
The thought reminds me of back home…of my family, who I’m ignoring to go on this—well, I guessquestwould be the right word for it?
Damn it.
Dr. Kallisto leads the way, going to what looks like a furnace at the center of the room and examining it for a moment before tapping out a command on a console at its base. It flickers for a moment then begins to emit a warm glow, and we all gather around it to drop our packs and warm ourselves. Ragnar is still quiet—too quiet—as he sets to work pulling out some food for Fenrik, who wags his tail and digs in a second later.
I don’t catch myself staring until he catches me first, and I avert my eyes.
I want him to be happy—to go back to being his goofy, hulking self, with his easy smile and his antiquated ideas about courtship and his bluntness…
…not whoever this guy is.
Because it reminds me that Ragnar had a whole life before we met—a history, people, family. He’s been so positive, so sure of our relationship, that I almost forgot.
