Page 42 of Before the Bond Breaks
Talon’s grip tightened on mine. The bond between us pulsed with the same current that carried through battle, now anchoring us to the moment and nothing else.
No one spoke. The hush built around us, every pair of eyes fixed on the two at the center of the storm.
I refused to drop my gaze or step back. This was a fight neither of us could ever win or lose. We just kept choosing it, again and again.
A small, private smile formed on my lips. “So now what?”
He looked down at our joined hands and then up, his eyes unguarded. “Now we finish the soulbond ritual.”
Talon’s hand gripped mine. Together, we stood in the courtyard’s center. The world faded until only the two of us remained.
A shudder rolled through the air, as if reality itself braced for what came next. He drew a breath, and I matched it, our chests rising in perfect cadence.
“Freya,” we called, voices sharp and clear, braided together for the first time in centuries.
The sound cut through the night. Every shifter, every Valkyrie in the circle waited for the goddess’s answer.
She did not make us wait.
Then the air thickened, charged with the power that stripped every lie from the bones. The courtyard trembled. Time seemed to shiver as Freya emerged at the heart of the light, a presence so absolute it crushed every other sensation into background noise.
Freya’s black hair fell loose around her shoulders, and her green eyes were alive with mischief and something sharper. She wore a simple gown in midnight blue, but the fabric rippled with its own current, starlight stitched down every sleeve. Even standing still, she vibrated with life.
For a moment, silence reigned. Then Freya’s attention snapped to our joined hands, and her face split in a smile that could have split the world.
“Finally!” she crowed, clapping her hands once, then again. The sound echoed between the arches, joy crackling through every nerve in the compound. She pivoted, voice carrying with the force of command. “Who’s ready for the soulbond ritual?”
Everyone clapped and cheered, and my heart filled with the support while guilt settled into my bones. I should have done this two centuries ago. But there was no going back to change things now.
Freya waved a hand in an arc, magic flaring from her fingertips. The world exploded with beauty.
Stone arches erupted from the ground, fueled by nothing but her will. They curved overhead, perfect as ancient bones, every surface carved with runes that surged with blue light. The glyphs pulsed down each pillar, their pattern echoing the old compacts of Vanaheim. As the arches settled, their glow painted every face in the crowd.
Above, lanterns shimmered into being. They drifted higher, their light pooling in liquid patterns across the courtyard. In the wake of the magic, flower petals filled the sky in colors of white, blue, and gold.
Freya’s gaze landed on me, then Talon. Satisfaction radiated from her in waves.
She rolled her shoulders, conjuring a thread of star fire that wrapped around her wrists. The magic leapt from her palms and wrapped us both.
The transformation hit without warning. My battle clothes shredded away, and in their place, a navy-blue gown poured down my skin, the fabric shimmering with pinpricks of light like a sky full of promises. My collarbone and arms lay bare, cool air licking at new, sensitive skin. My feet were bare against the cold stone, every nerve ending alive.
At my side, Talon’s ruined shirt vanished. He stood in loose navy-blue pants, chest sculpted and bare, feet unshod. The pale stripes of old scars and new bruises etched him into something primal, something worthy of legend. When he looked at me, the gold in his eyes flickered with raw hunger.
The crowd let out a collective gasp. For the first time, the Valkyries and shifters were united by more than oath or convenience. They watched, open-mouthed, some with hands caught tight over their chests or clasping each other’s arms.
Freya prowled a slow circuit around us and the ritual’s circle. Every footstep re-ignited the runes at the base of each arch, sending new ripples of blue across the stone. Petals caught in my hair, starlight gleamed at my throat, and for the first time since exile, I felt like a true Prime Matron.
The circle tightened. Valkyries shifted closer to the shifters nearest them. Every face caught in the web of gold and blue, all anticipation, all awe.
Freya paused before us, green eyes gone sharp with purpose. Her magic braided around our limbs, binding the sight of us—the Alpha and the Matron, flawless in midnight and raw power—into the memory of every being in the compound.
Freya’s focus landed on us. The courtyard felt smaller now, closed in by arches and the weight of hundreds of stares. The glow of lanterns painted the world in gold and sapphire, forcing every shadow back from the center.
Talon’s hand gripped mine, fingers cold but unflinching. My breath hitched, the sudden awareness of every scar and failure in my history trying to crawl back up my throat. Beside me, he stood like carved stone, unreadable except for the pulse at his neck and the heat in his eyes.
Freya smiled at us as she spoke. “Mazelina Valen, do you stand as the new Prime Matron, the anchor of your sisters’ will?”
The sisters Freya was talking about went beyond my blooded siblings. All the Valkyries were my sisters because we shared asisterhood bond. That was why Byrna’s betrayal hit me harder than it should have.
