Page 15 of The Viking in the Vault
She nods along with me. “Ragnar Fenvarra.”
I blink, taking a staggering step toward her. Does she…has she accepted it? That we were fated to meet, that we–
She takes a step back.
No.
…she thinks it’s my name.
Fenrik whines and I glance down at him for reassurance, the skarnhound wagging his tail tentatively. He looks just as baffled as I feel. For a moment, I thought she’d accepted me as her mate, but no…she hasn’t.
And now she’s pointing at the exit, saying the same syllable over and over. “Go?” she says.
Ah…yes. She wants to leave.
I follow.
The caves were light for a moment, but now they’re getting dark again; the day cycle must be short on this planet, wherever we’ve found ourselves. The sun is setting, and light filters through the cracks in the ice in fragmented beams of purple, orange, and gold. Each step forward reveals a new kaleidoscope of color, refracting in mesmerizing patterns across the walls. It’s beautiful, but I can hardly focus on it.
Because Elena…she looks more and more exhausted. I think she truly believes we’ll escape tonight–or she’ll find the Boreans she believes can save us–but she needs to rest.
I stop abruptly, reaching out and taking her shoulder. She lets out a strangled yelp, batting my hand away. I pantomime resting, closing my eyes and tilting my head as if asleep. She shakes her head and babbles at me, resistant.
She’s shaking so hard that I want to wrap her in my arms and force her to rest…to stay warm, to let me hold her. I reach out to pick her up, but she stumbles away.
I sigh, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. I can’t force her to do anything–not yet. She doesn’t trust me, and if I continue this way, I know she never will. I point at her, then at the floor, then I pantomime resting again…but she merely keeps walking.
“Go,” she repeats. “Go.”
I sigh.
Fine.
We continue walking, even though I’m terrified this journey will be the death of her. Time stretches out…the sun sets, and the light goes from dusk to the glow of an aurora. I wonder if we’re on that horrible planet–Borealis, home to my greatest enemy. If we are…
Elena stops and points, then looks at me with an excited smile. She says something in her language, eyes alight.
Then she bolts.
Fenrik is right on her tail, and I increase my pace to keep up. Elena turns quickly around a corner, clearly trying to escape me, and I follow her–
–only to find her shoulders slumping at the sight of yet another ruined communications screen.
She looks up at me with a dejected sigh, shaking her head. She says something in her language–to Fenrik, not to me–and I do my best to let her alone.
Eventually, she’ll collapse from exhaustion, and I’ll be there to catch her.
It’s only a matter of time.
Elena moves around the lab with slow, deliberate steps, more tired by the second. She rifles through one of the storage compartments, muttering to herself in her alien language as I watch from a safe distance. Fenrik follows her, nosing through the cabinets, tail wagging.
After a moment, she pulls out a stack of thick blankets. Turning to me, she holds one up, her brow furrowed as she hesitates. I think she’s offering it to me, but I don’t need it–I’m already warm. I point to her instead, then to the blanket, motioning for her to keep each and every one.
“I’ll keep watch while you sleep,” I murmur. “We don’t know when our captors will come for us.”
She shakes her head and steps closer, holding the blanket out insistently. I continue to say no, and she sighs in frustration. Giving up on the blankets, she goes to remove my cloak from her shoulders to pass it back.
I shake my head more firmly, growling.
