RAVNUR
Itwasnotthefirst time I had ridden atop Gullinbursti, but it was the first time I had ridden the beastwithFreyr, seated behind him, clutching his waist as we left the city for the woods and continued across Yggdrasil’s branches into Vanaheim.
Freyr preferred to hunt in his original homeland, he once told me, because it helped him to be a man of his two most beloved peoples. I’d asked if he was not a man of three peoples, given he had lived among the Aesir as well, and he’d answered, “Oh yes, but to be one with my Aesir brethren I need only to drink a good horn of ale!”
Gull was built for speed, and though the ride was generally smooth, as though gliding over the ground rather than galloping, an occasional leap over uneven ground would jostle me to tighten my hold on Freyr, feeling the warmth of him like the summer sun in my arms. It eased my nerves at first to have this reprieve, the quiet of the ride, wind rushing past us, just present in each other’s company. But my tension ratcheted up the farther we went, for once we stopped, this courtship would begin, and I had no idea how to navigate it.
I still wore the pendant I longed to give Freyr beneath my tunic.
“Here we are! The perfect clearing to leave old Gull while we tread deeper into the trees.” Freyr turned to me with his blinding smile, one hand patting my interlaced fingers wrapped around his waist.
Right. I should probably let go if we were to dismount without disaster.
I released him, and he hopped down first to offer me a hand. It too was warm as he tenderly grasped my fingers, perhaps more so because the early morning chill had seeped into my bones, soothed only where we connected.
I swung my other leg from the saddle—only for my foot to catch in the stirrup and pitch me forward. The saddle twisted, upending me to faceplant into the ground while my foot remained suspended.
“Ravnur!” Freyr called with a noticeable laugh, though he quickly disentangled me to help me upright. I was lucky I hadn’t smashed my nose into the dirt, but my cheekbone had still impacted, and my hair that usually brushed my shoulders was a tangled tuft in front of my eyes.
Freyr brushed it back, picking a few blades of grass from its locks. His thumb smoothed across my cheekbone, presumablywiping away the dirt. When our eyes met, neither of us seemed to know what to say.
“Had you recently—”
“Do you often—”
Our babbling caused both of us to chuckle.
“You first, dear Raven,” Freyr said.
I ran my fingers through my hair as well, partially for distraction from the pounding of my heart. “I only wondered if you often use this clearing?”
“Quite frequently! It is spacious enough to fit Gull.” Freyr gestured to the steed and then started to readjust its fallen saddle. “Near areas rife with game. And near a spring and waterfall should I become parched. Why, I was here just yesterday!”
As I was further straightening my disturbed appearance—tunic, trousers, and cloak all chosen to match Freyr’s verdant forest-like colors and better blend with the trees—I realized he meant he had been here when Loki sent him that… gift. “With the mortal?”
Freyr froze while adjusting the saddle’s straps. “Yes. Should I have chosen a different—”
“It’s fine,” I said shortly. Jealously. But how foolish when we had no promises between us before now. I had former lovers too. Yet in the depths of my being, I believed no one else deserved to have known Freyr’s touch, for only one who gave him their heart should earn his bed, and none ever had. Or if any others had attempted to, no offered hearts had been accepted.
Freyr paused with a forlorn look I could only see in profile as he stroked Gullinbursti’s golden bristles.
I was starting this off even poorer than expected and stepped toward him to apologize—in the same instant that he stepped toward me.
We collided with an oomph and each nearly toppled backward.
“My apologies—”
“Are you all right—”
Rustling in the brush interrupted our faltering exchange, and Freyr snapped his attention to the trees. He grabbed my arm, pulled me toward him, and dropped us into a crouch. It seemed almost silly with Gull as our backdrop, gleaming gold, practically glowing to light the way in these precious few minutes on the cusp of daybreak when deer were most plentiful to catch.
Freyr hushed me as he huddled me closer against him. I turned my head just enough for my nose to brush his auburn hair, and it smelled as much like sunshine as my god looked, like nature and majesty and everything springtime and summer with the promise of new beginnings.
“Wily bastard.”
“What?” I snapped away before I could take in the whiff I wanted.
“Look,” Freyr whispered, nodding forward beyond the clearing.
