Page 106 of North Is the Night
“Why?”
“Because in your face, I see the raven who loves me. In your body, I see the man who hungers for me. But in your eyes...” I glance up at last, holding his mismatched gaze. “In your eyes, I see the god who owns me... and I am intimidated.”
“If I own you, then you own me. Ought I to feel intimidated too?”
“We are bound together. From the moment our blood joined, I’ve felt you pressing in at me,” I say, placing a hand over my heart. “I feel youhere, seeking and pulling. Wanting, needing, aching. I think you mean to unravel me. You mean to take every knot in my tapestry and untie it, binding it into yours until we are no longer two people but one.”
“And should I not want this from my wife?” he says, his frustration rising as he steps closer. “Should I not want to shelter and adore you? Carve out half of me to make a place for you?”
“You take the words of marriage too literally, my lord. I must remain my own person. I must be free to choose you, to... to want you.”
“And do you?”
I go still, my gaze now locked on the candle. Tuoni waits, unmoving, his good eye watching me as I watch the flame. “I do not know you,” I say at last.
“You know the raven—”
“You are not the raven,” I cry. “For weeks I lived with him, sharing my every thought and dream. He knows me so well—youknow me so well.” I shake my head. “But you are now a man, and I don’t know you beyond the stories and songs meant to frighten me. A god calls me ‘wife,’ and he is a stranger to me. So yes, I am intimidated.”
He glances around, settling his gaze on the feast. “Dine with me.”
I let out a little laugh. “What?”
“You’re hungry. I can hear the way your stomach groans. A feast stands ready for us,” he adds, gesturing to the table. “Dine with me and ask me any question. You say you do not know me. Now is your chance, wife. Dine with your husband and get to know him.”
My laughter grows. I see it upsets him, and I try to stop, covering my mouth with my hand.
“What is funny?” he mutters, his frustration rising.
“I just—” I shake my head again, stifling this laughter that has quickly turned to nervous trembling. “The god of death wants me to dine with him.” I choke on another laugh as I imagine saying the words out loud to Siiri. I picture the horrified look on her face. “The god of death is my husband and—oh gods—I am now the Queen of Tuonela.” I clutch at my side, sucking in a sharp breath. With my free hand, I reach out, frantically grasping for the back of the chair to steady myself. “I am—I married you, my lord. Your spurned queen now haunts the opposite tower, casting a pall over my life. And not an hour ago, the only three mortal souls left in this realm sailed away from me. I am truly alone now.” I can’t catch my breath. Nothing about this is funny anymore. “Oh gods, I am—I’m alone—”
He takes me by the shoulders, helping me into the chair. Soothing me with soft words and touches, he drops down to one knee. The god of death deigns to comfort me, his weak mortal wife. “You are not alone, Aina. You shall never fear loneliness again. I am here.”
“I miss my family,” I whisper, my trembling hands holding tight to his strong arms. “I miss my mother. I miss Siiri.”
He stiffens, sinking back on his heels. “Always Siiri. Your thoughts never seem to turn from her.”
I go still, not daring to look up. I can feel his jealousy through our bond. “She is my friend—”
“Don’t lie to me. You can lie to yourself, but not to me. As the raven, I listened to endless stories of your exploits together. You held me as you cried for her. I stayed by your side as you dreamed of her. Your fondness for her is a thorn in my side.”
“What other stories can I share when it is she who has been more constant in my life than the sun itself—” I gasp as he presses against me, his hips between my legs, his large hand cupping the back of my head as he pulls me closer, stealing all my air with the violence of his expression.
“I don’t want to hear another word about Siiri Jarintyttär.”
I look at his eyes, from light to dark. “What use is jealousy when you know I will never see her again? How can you deny me even my memories—”
With a growl, he cups my face with both hands, his grip tight, his lips all but brushing mine. “I will not share you with another. You aremywife, Aina. Not hers. I will carve a place for myself in your heart, I swear it. I will be first in your affections.”
I stiffen in his embrace, feeling the chaos and confusion of his thoughts down the bond. He’s panicking. Gods help me, I think he’s scared. He’s just as unsure of this new bond as I am. He doesn’t know what it means to be a husband. I’m not sure he even knows how to be a friend. Slowly, I lift a hand, brushing the wool of his tunic. “You cannot force affection, my lord. Think of the raven.”
His dark eye fixes on me, his mouth set in a grim line as he sinks back, giving me room to breathe. I look for my Jaako in the slant of his cheekbones, the arch of his nose. Gently, I lift my hand and cup his face, my thumb brushing the softness of his wiry black beard. “A caged bird will only beat at its bars. Once the cage opens, it is sure to fly away... never to return.”
Shifting my hand, I brush my thumb over his lips. They part for me, and I feel his warm breath on my skin. “But a bird fed from an open hand will return to you.” He leans into my touch, his lips forming the echo of a kiss against my thumb. “Open your hand, my lord. Give me leave to love you in my time and in my way. And please, if you care for me at all, let me keep my memories.”
Slowly, he nods, his shoulders relaxing as I let him have my willing touch. I brush my hands over his scarred cheeks, across his brow, down his beard. He sinks against me. His hands drop to rest on my knees, gentle but claiming as they graze up my thighs. He lowers his head to my shoulder, content to breathe me in.
There is nothing sensual in our touch. He is a man, and I am his wife, but this feels altogether innocent. In this moment, we are two souls bound by some strange iron thread, seeking shelter in each other as the darkness presses in. He’s part of me now. Tuonela is part of me. I feel him in me, his blood, a whisper of his magic. There is a taste on my tongue, a taste of iron and salt.
