Page 58 of The Viking in the Vault
Rishik, who has been silent up until now, listening with the intensity of a scientist presented with a fascinating new specimen, finally speaks. “It’s not so unusual, is it?” He tilts his head toward Cosmia. “Your people—don’t the Ka’reth also mate for life?”
Cosmia’s antennae twitch, her wings giving the faintest flutter. “Mmhm—but it’s a little different. When a Ka’reth chooses a mate—truly chooses them—our bodies change. Our wing patterns shift, our pheromones change, even our bioluminescence can adjust. It’s…like a chrysalis. So there’s not a call or anything, we choose each other…kind of like what people do with Elixir ceremonies.”
Rishik nods. “There’s documented evidence of it in the Pact’s xenobiological archives. A Ka’reth in the early stages of mating can enter a brief dormancy period, after which their wing markings develop into something entirely unique—something that reflects their mate bond. Once the change happens, it’s permanent.”
Ragnar tilts his head, studying Cosmia with new interest. “Your form alters for your mate?”
Cosmia shrugs. “It’s not like we wake up one day as a whole new person. It’s gradual. Subtle. But it’s irreversible.” Her golden fingers drum lightly against her cup, and I get the sense that she’s choosing her words carefully. “That’s why we don’t…rush into things. There’s no breaking a Ka’reth bond. No undoing it. If we mate, it’s for life. Maybe longer, depending on what you think happens after death.”
Ragnar watches her with an intensity that makes me wonder what he’s thinking—whether he sees the Ka’reth as kindred in this, or if it only reinforces his own views on fate.
Cosmia, to my surprise, turns her gaze on me. “So, yeah. I get why it freaks you out, Elena.”
I blink. “What?”
She smirks. “Your mate is, what, four thousand years old? He’s not exactly going to change his mind about you. And from what I hear, Skoll mate bonds are just as permanent as ours.”
Ves hums, tapping their claws against their glass. “Yeah, but Skoll are a lot more…” they pause, searching for the right word, “…free love about the whole thing.”
Cosmia raises an eyebrow. “Free love?”
Ves gestures vaguely. “Y’know, compared to most Pact species. I mean, don’t get me wrong, a fated mate is a big deal, but outside of that, modern Skoll don’t really do the whole lifelong monogamy thing the way other species do.”
Ragnar frowns slightly, glancing at Ves. “But finding your fenvarra is different.”
Ves nods. “Yeah, of course. Fated mates are the exception. But I mean, let’s not pretend Skoll have ever been traditionally monogamous.” They snort. “I mean, we used to have entire social structures built around shared mates and clan partnerships.”
I blink, looking between Ves and Ragnar. “Wait. So…you’re saying Skoll are usually?—”
“Polyamorous?” Ves finishes for me. “Oh, absolutely. Not all of us, obviously, but historically? Yeah.” They grin. “You’re the rare one, big guy.”
“Not in my time,” Ragnar argues. “No…there were legendary bonded pairs amongst us: Maelena and Balor, Tor and Rhiannon. All chosen by Yrsa.”
Ves hums, swirling their drink. “Yeah, but we’re not in your time, are we? The Skoll might still believe in fate, but most of us don’t structure our whole lives around it anymore.”
Ragnar exhales sharply through his nose, arms crossing over his chest. He looks to me again, as if waiting for confirmation that the world has truly changed that much. I shrug helplessly. “I mean…they’re not wrong.”
He frowns. “You do not wish to be claimed?”
My throat goes dry.
I don’t have an answer for that. Not one I’m willing to say in front of an audience.
I feel Ves watching me. Waiting. I feel Cosmia’s knowing smirk, Rishik’s quiet, analytical interest. And I especially feel Ragnar—his steady, unrelenting focus on me.
“Uh,” I manage. “That’s…not exactly what I meant.”
He tilts his head, studying me in a way that makes my entire nervous system rebel. “Then what did you mean?”
Ves grins. “Oh, I love this. You guys are so fun.”
I want to die.
I need an escape. Now.
“I think,” I say quickly, shoving my chair back from the table before my brain fully processes what I’m doing, “that it’s time to go home.”
Ragnar’s brow furrows slightly, but he nods. He doesn’t even question it. Just rises to his feet, towering over everyone, and sets a hand at the small of my back like the matter is settled. “Then we go.”
