Page 99 of The Viking in the Vault
RAGNAR
Ibelieve the world I knew might be just around the corner…and it terrifies me.
Not because I don’t want to see my crew, my friends—of course I do, and I would be thrilled to see them safe and alive. But that doesn’t change the fact that, if they still live, I will have duties to them that may interfere with my duties to my mate.
Elena…she doesn’t need me, not the way they will. She lives in this world, she thrives in it. My crew, if they are indeed alive, will need more help than she does.
I don’t want to be bound to them.
Only to her.
Fenrik trots ahead of us, tail wagging, breath fogging up in puffs of cold vapor. Elena walks at my side, the tunnel wide enough for the two of us. The ceiling provides just enough clearance for me, and I realize with a start that it’s because there’s been Skoll traffic through here—scratch marks on the ceiling from other sets of antlers.
Elena seems to notice at the same time, her eyes wide as she looks to me.
“Ragnar…” she breathes. “What are you going to do if they’re alive?”
Yrsa preserve me—I have no idea.
I look down at my mate, this miracle of a female walking beside me through ice and time and memory. Her brow is furrowed, her teeth worrying at her lower lip. She’s worried, and not just for me…but for us.
I reach for her hand. “I will do what I must,” I tell her. “But know this—you are my mate, Elena. I will not abandon you.”
She bites hard on her lip, hard enough to draw blood. I reach up to swipe it away instinctively.
“Okay,” she whispers. “But if you have to…”
“I will not.” I pause, clicking my tongue at Fenrik so he doesn’t wander off. The skarnhound takes a patient seat as I cup Elena’s cheek in my hand. “I am yours, Elena. My place is with you.”
“But your people?—”
“My people,” I interrupt, “will feel lost…but you helped me find a way. We will help them, my fenvarra.”
She chances a smile, her eyes glittering in the ice-glow. “Okay…good. Because I’m not letting you go without a fight.”
The idea of her fighting any of my crew is laughable, but I write it off as one of her strange human jests.
And we walk on.
The tunnel narrows, then widens again, the light growing brighter as we go. I don’t know where the light is coming from until we round a bend…and then it’s like we’ve entered a tunnel of glass, soft blue and pale gold dancing across every frost-covered surface, reflecting off the curve of the ice. Above us, the ceiling shimmers with strange reflections, and Elena sucks in a breath as she grasps my hand.
“Ragnar…” she breathes. “I think we’re under the ocean.”
I look around with her, realizing she’s right; the glimmer we see overhead is water, with strange, dark shapes moving through it. Elena doesn’t seem nearly as impressed as I am–instead, she’s terrified, her hand squeezing mine almost painfully.
“How is this…this doesn’t seem safe?” she whispers.
I shake my head. “It is…hm.”
I reach up to touch the ceiling, finding it cool to the touch–but no moisture comes away on my palm. I smile, looking down at her.
“Frostglass,” I say. “We are safe; it’s nearly indestructible.”
“What is it?”
“An old Borean material, used for shipbuilding,” I say. “This place…it must be ancient. Leading us somewhere.”
Fenrik woofs toward something behind us, and the two of us turn just in time to see a massive sea creature glide overhead, wings spread wide and tail swaying behind it. Elena gasps, covering her mouth.
