And led her to bed.
* * * *
Slivers of moonlight sliced through the narrow windows into the quiet room as Haldor closed and bolted the door behind them. He carefully hung his falcon cloak on a hook near the door, and Úlvhild did the same as he crossed the room and stoked the fire. When he added a log to the flames, Úlvhild removed her boots and belt, then laid her necklace with the carved amber image of Freyja on the table beside the bed.
She felt his hands wrap around the front of her waist as he approached her from behind and kissed the back of her neck. He slipped her golden gown over her shoulders, his warm lips sampling her bare skin. When he hummed, it was more like a moan.
He spun her toward him, pushed her soft chemise down her arms, and held her hand as he drew her toward him.
She stepped out of the garments on the floor and stood naked before him, her legs trembling as his falcon eyes feasted on her bare flesh.
She watched as he unstrapped his sword, leaning it against the wall near the bed, where hisÍsfálkrspear stood ready for the morning. He removed his boots, then his amber colored tunic, baring his magnificent bronze chest for her adoring fingers.
She caressed the glorious dark hair and the intricate falcon feathers which shimmered in the warm light. Inside theseiðrfjáðrmark which bound their souls, the amber eye of Freyja—the goddess they both worshipped—and the deep violet spiral, symbol of theseiðrmagic they shared, blazed with otherworldly fire.
The longer we are together, and the more often we make love, the stronger our magic becomes. Tonight, and again in the morning, I shall stoke Haldor’s inner fire and fill his magic through the seiðfjáðr rune.
With the tip of her tongue, she traced the outline of thesoulboundsigil, nuzzling his chest hair and inhaling his scent as she untied the drawstring closure of his breeches. She pushed the warm wool down his muscular legs, freeing him from the confines of clothing. Her moist lips followed the trail of dark hair down his belly, and when she took him in her mouth, his thighs twitched and he groaned with pleasure.
“Not yet,” he rasped, raising her back to her feet and claiming her lips with his own. He took her by the hand and led her to the pile of soft furs on the bed. “Lie down. And spread your legs wide.”
Úlvhild complied, the hunger in his eyes making her limbs shake.
He knelt on the bed and licked the inside of her thighs, working his way up to the dark thatch of curls. “Let me taste you,” he urged, spreading her folds apart and trailing his warm tongue over the tender skin. His drew her flesh up into his lips, savoring her flavor with appreciative moans. “I must have you,” he groaned, positioning himself between her quivering thighs. “I cannot wait any longer.”
He slid calloused hands beneath her bottom, tilting her up and pinning her in place. With a deep thrust, he impaled her, releasing a low, guttural moan.
She wrapped long legs around his pumping hips, strong arms behind his muscled back, clenching him tightly inside and out as if she wouldnever let him go. As she lifted herself up to meet each rhythmic thrust, the unbearable tension mounted like a cresting wave as he pounded her flesh. When the wave finally burst, and ripples of exquisite pleasure poured over her, Haldor thrust in deep—to the hilt—and filled her with his seed.
After a few moments, his body stilled, and he lay down at her side. He cradled her upon his chest, over his thumping heart. “I love you, Úlvhild. Now and always. In this life and the next.”
“And I love you, Haldor Falk.” She raised up on an elbow and pushed lock of dark hair from his glistening brow. “But you must promise me something.”
“Anything. Ask, and it is yours.” Unwavering devotion blazed in his intense feral gaze.
“If I should fall in battle tomorrow, you must send word to Sigurd by the winter solstice. And agree to wed Svanhild.” She lowered her face and kissed his chest to hide her welling tears.
With a curved finger, he gently lifted her chin. “Look at me.”
Úlvhild raised her sorrowful eyes and looked at the man she loved with all of her broken, battered heart.
“We shall prevail tomorrow.” Confident voice filled with conviction, he gestured to the enchanted spear leaning against the stone wall, “Njörd, Skjöld, and I all have Dwarven weapons.” He half sat up, fervor flaring in his impassioned eyes. “We haveLjósálfarandÚlfhéðnarto destroy the Dark Elves. Danish warriors and Norman knights to battle Skugga and the Rus raiders.” He grabbed her hand and pressed it to his lips, imploring her to believe him. “I command birds to swoop down from the skies.” He flashed the ouroboros ring with the eternal dragon which glimmered on his left hand. “And I can summon afrostdragon.” He collapsed back onto the bed and pulled her into his arms, stroking her long hair and kissing the top of her head. “I willnevermarry Svanhild.” Haldor lifted his head and looked down at her, cradled upon theseiðrfjáðrmark just above his thundering heart. “You are the only woman I will ever love. Or bed. Or wed. I will promise you anything, Úlvhild. Anything butthat.” He lowered his head back down onto the furs. “Now, no more talk of Svanhild. Come, sleep in my arms.”
Úlvhild nestled against his fierce falcon heart and waited patiently until his limbs twitched and he succumbed to sleep. As silently and stealthily as her cat Kól, she slipped from the bed and crossed the chamber to fetch her satchel of herbs.
Njörd had reclaimed Brökk’s Dwarven sword and knew that he must now slay Gúldur, theDökkálfarBlacksmith of Dorestad, to fulfill his prophecy. Yet, although Úlvhild had foreseen Skjöld’s destiny eighteen winters ago, she still did not know how he would meet his fate. The prophetic words Úlvhild had whispered to Ylva long ago—when she’d given Jarl Rikard’s daughter the enchanted emerald ring to help her conceive Skjöld—floated into her mind from the distant past.
“The child born to the son of a Danish king and the daughter of a Norman duke will forge a dynasty that will unite the land and rule for a thousand years.”
Úlvhild fetched three dark purple berries and tossed them into the fire. As they crackled and snapped in the flames, she deeply inhaled the crisp pine scent of juniper. She poured pureLjósálfarwater into the silver pot she’d requested from one of Queen Íssla’s royal attendants and placed it over the stone hearth, adding a pinch of crushed mugwort, angelica, meadowsweet, and yarrow. From the stoppered bottle securely wrapped inside her trunk, she withdrew three tiny black henbane seeds and dropped them into the elixir.
Enough to cross the veil to the Otherworld and view what the Norns reveal. But not too much, for I must return to this realm to inform Skjöld of my seiðr vision.
And save Haldor from the Snake Warrior with the deadly Dökkálfar blade.
When the potion had cooled enough to drink, she downed the bitter brew.
Quietly, so as to not awaken Haldor, who snored softly in the plush bed, Úlvhild hummed avarðlokkurchant and thumped her moonstone staff on a thick fur which she had spread upon the stone floor. As her head began to swoon, she slumped into a carvedmoonstone chair and gazed into the dancing fire.
