Page 31 of The Viking in the Vault
I swallow hard, the urge to reach out and touch her almost overwhelming. Instead, I nod, my voice rough when I respond. “Thank you.”
Ves clears their throat. “I pay.”
Once the transaction is complete, we step out of the shop and into the bustling streets. The air is crisp and cold, but the new clothes keep me warm. Fenrik trots ahead, his tail wagging as he sniffs at the snow-covered ground. Elena walks beside me, her hand brushing against my arm as she adjusts her coat.
“Safe?” she asks, glancing up at me.
I nod, a small smile tugging at my lips. That simple word has come to mean so much…one of the only words we share. It doesn’t quite sum up all I feel, but I confirm it for her anyway: “Safe.”
13
ELENA
Once we’re done shopping, we all decide that Fenrik needs some breathing room.
The skarnhound has been holed up in a cryo-pod for four thousand years, and a big guy like him needs a place to run around. It’s freezing outside–it always is in Snowveil–but I can think of the perfect place for Fenrik to frolick.
Snowveil Park is quiet when most scholars are at work, save for the occasional hum of distant conversation and the laughter of children playing. Snow blankets the ground in a pristine sheet, interrupted only by Fenrik's massive paws as he bounds through the open field. His tail wags furiously, his breath puffing in the cold air like steam. Ragnar follows him, laughing—a deep, rich sound that seems so at odds with the brooding warrior I’ve come to know.
It’s…nice, seeing him like this. Relaxed.
Almost normal.
I wrap my hands tighter around the steaming cup of tea we picked up from a vendor nearby and shift closer to the warming station, which glows gold in the fading light. Ves stands beside me, leaning casually against the heater’s railing. They seemmore amused than anything, watching Ragnar toss a stick for Fenrik like it’s the most fascinating thing in the universe.
“Who knew the ancient warrior could play fetch?” Ves teases, their tone light. “It’s almost…cute.”
I snort, taking a sip of my tea. “I don’t think he’d appreciate you calling him cute.”
Ves shrugs. “He doesn’t have to know.”
I glance at Ragnar, who is now crouched low, growling playfully at Fenrik as the massive skarnhound circles him with the stick in its jaws. The sight tugs a smile to my lips despite myself. “It is kind of cute, though,” I admit.
“See? You agree with me.” Ves nudges my arm with their elbow, their grin widening. “But don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”
I shake my head, laughing quietly. “This is the first time I’ve seen him like this. Relaxed. Happy, even. God…when we were trapped in the Eiskammer, he was so intense. I like this side of him.”
Ves tilts their head thoughtfully. “Guess even ancient warriors need a break sometimes. Plus, Fenrik’s probably the only thing in this world he doesn’t feel out of place with. Helps to have a constant.”
I nod, my eyes lingering on Ragnar as he finally wrests the stick from Fenrik and throws it again, the hound bounding off with wild enthusiasm, tongue lolling. “It’s nice to see him smile. I mean, really smile.”
Ves hums, their gaze flicking between me and Ragnar. “You’ve got a soft spot for him.”
I flush, the heat creeping up my neck despite the frigid air. “I’m just trying to help. He’s…been through a lot.”
Ves hums in agreement. “Waking up in a world that’s changed so much…losing everything he knew. It’s bound to take a toll.”
I nod, my chest tightening at the thought. I can’t imagine what that must feel like—being so completely untethered, losing your family like that. I’ve barely been able to handle it for four years, let alone forever. To have left his planet behind and now finding out they’re all gone…
As Fenrik returns with the stick, Ves shifts slightly, their expression turning more thoughtful. “You know,” they begin, their tone more serious now, “there’s something you should probably know about ancient Skoll culture.”
I glance at them, raising an eyebrow. “What’s that?”
Ves hesitates for a moment, then sighs. “Have you ever heard the term fenvarra?”
I nod, frowning. “Yeah…Ragnar has said it a lot. What does it mean?”
“It’s an old concept,” Ves explains, waving a hand dismissively. “A relic of the past, really. The idea that every Skoll has one true mate—someone they’re bound to for life. Like a soul bond.”
