And—as Freyja had willed in moonglow and starlight—filled Úlvhild with his seed and his soul.
Limbs entwined, they clung to each other until their breathing slowed and their bodies calmed.
He nuzzled the side of her neck and rumbled with muffled laughter. “I didn’t even feed you first. I simply had to have you.”
Her arms, wrapped around his back, squeezed him tight. “I didn’t even think of food. I only wantedyou.” She suckled his shoulder and hummed with delight. “I love your taste, Haldor Falk.”
“As I love yours.” He licked his bristled lips and deeply inhaled. “Your scent lingers in my moustache.” Haldor gently extricated himself from her long limbs and rose to his feet. He grinned down at her. “Forgive my frenzy of passion. Now that I can think again, I shall prepare food. You must be famished.”
Long black tresses tumbled down her shoulders and over her small, pert breasts as she rose up onto an elbow and smiled. “Indeed I am.” Love and lust blazed in her amber eyes as she gazed up at him, tracing her tempting tongue over luscious lips. “Food now, then you again.” She flashed him a sultry grin, an enticing glint in her golden gaze. “After all, we must obey the goddess.”
* * * *
The appetizing aroma of barley pottage with wild thyme, lingonberries, hazelnuts, carrots, and reindeer meat filled the cave as Haldor ladled the nutritiousnattmálinto two woodenbowls. He set them onto a flat stone near the pile of furs along with a pair of spoons, then knelt beside Úlvhild. He fetched the silver chalice at her feet and lifted it to propose a toast. His deep, reverent voice resounded throughout the cave.
"To the goddess who saved us both.
To the undying flame of our love.
And to theseiðrfjáðrthat binds our souls.
We are one — now and always."
With both hands, he lowered the glistening goblet to her lips. She covered his scarred fingers with her own. Her amber eyes, aflame like the fragrant fire, never left his as she took a single, sacred sip. Then she tilted the silver cup toward his parted, expectant lips. Haldor drank deeply, sealing their solemn vow.
While they savored the nutty barley, the gamey reindeer meat flavored with the fruity tang of lingonberries and the herbal bite of wild thyme, they shared tales and memories, the eight winters of separation falling away, as if they had never been apart.
Haldor made her laugh with stories of how theBlóðsmiðrhad honed Skjöld into a brutal beast, how wonderful it had been to spend the past two summers with the Láhpi tribe, reunited with Jaskka and Máret, the foster parents who had raised him as a boy. He told her of how he and Skjöld had met Dvalinn, and their hard-won battle to defend the dwarf’s treasure and weapons. He desperately wanted to show her the wedding rings,Freyja’s Eyes, which Dvalinn had given him, now safely stored among Haldor’s belongings here in the cave. But not yet. He needed to speak first to Skårde, Jarl Rikard, and King Sweyn. And propose his idea which might finally convince Úlvhild to wed him.
By naming Skjöld as his heir toFalkhöll.
Haldor knew that Úlvhild had twice refused him because she could not bear him an heir. But if he named Skjöld—the acolyte he had trained for the past eight winters, the eager boy he had molded into the young man he now loved like ason—as his heir, she would have no grounds to refuse.
But he could not propose to her yet. Not without the approval of Skjöld’s father, who undoubtedly expected his eldest son to inheritChâteaufort. Or Skjöd’s grandfather, Jarl Rikard, the Duke of Normandy who would want his warrior grandson to defend thePays de Caux. Or Skjöld’s uncle, Sweyn Forkbeard, the new King of Denmark and Norway, who might prefer to keep Skjöld close toHeiðabýras a deterrent to the Franks and the Kiev Rus threatening his tenuous hold on the Varangian trade routes along the Baltic Coast.
Haldor would need the approval of all three rulers before he could mention his plan to Úlvhild.
And yet, even if Skjöld’s kin did consent, Sigurd Hlodvirsson—the powerful Jarl ofOrkeneyjar—remained a festering political thorn in Haldor’s side.
While he lingered protectively in the doorway as Úlvhild relieved herself outside the cave, Haldor pondered his dilemma.
Sigurd expected Haldor’s response by the winter solstice. Yet Haldor needed to remain here to nurture Úlvhild. He would not leave his belovedvölva.
Nor would he take Svanhild to wife.
Haldor knew that for years, King Harald and Jarl Rikard had pressed for his marriage to Svanhild, to unite the Orkney and Faroe Islands with Denmark, Norway, and Normandy. Haldor had managed to delay, citing the need to train their mutual grandson Skjöld.
But now that the apprenticeship had ended, Sigurd expected Haldor to accept his offer of Svanhild’s hand in marriage. And had publicly demanded his answer by the winter solstice.
If Haldor refused, Sigurd’s wrath could well fall on Tórshavn, in blood payment for the grievous insult to his honor.
As Haldor led Úlvhild back inside the warm cave and secured the reindeer hide closure with heavy stones, he saw no clear path forward.
Only the darkening storm of Sigurd’s fury.
Destroying his fragile, fleeting future with Úlvhild.
Chapter 24
