“She and Haldor have been lovers for twenty winters.” Skadi raised up on an elbow and looked into his eyes. “Does Haldorhave other lovers as well? They are often separated, sometimes for years.”
Skjöld held her inquisitive gaze. He knew she was asking if he would do the same when they were apart. “Never. He has never bedded—or even desired—another woman since Úlvhild.” He gently lifted her chin with a curved finger and kissed her luscious lips. “They aresoulbound, like you and I.”
Her smile was as radiant as the moonlight shining on her silvery hair. She glanced away, eyes downcast, as if suddenly troubled.
“What’s wrong?” Skjöld sat up in bed to look at her.
“I have no gown fine enough for a wedding.” She forced a smile that did not reach her ashamed eyes.
Skjöld caressed her silken skin and kissed her bare shoulder. “My mother, Elfi’s grandmother Oda, and Sif are making one for you.” He grinned at her astonished look. “She’ll craft our wedding rings, too. That’s what I spoke to her about tonight.” Pulling Skadi back into his arms, he laid down and nestled her on his chest. “I showed her thefjórún,” he said, holding up his left palm so it caught the moonlight. “She’s going to make our rings with gems in these colors. Deep purple amethyst…and ice blue aquamarine. In flames of swirling silver.Soulboundin water and flame.”
He kissed Skadi’s cheek as he held her. “MyMaman, as I call her, promised to take you under her wing, and prepare you for our wedding, the way my great-grandmother Gyda did for her.” He told Skadi how Skårde’s mother had died in childbirth, how Gyda had raised Skårde, and how she’d given Ylva thekransenwhich she had saved for her daughter Katla. That heirloom would now become Skadi’s bridal headpiece, just as it had been Ylva’s.
Skadi was overcome with gratitude. Tears of joy streamed down her smiling cheeks. “I never knew my own mother,” she whispered. “I am profoundly grateful for yours.”
He held her tight and rocked her in his arms, so glad that she was his. “Wewill have a wondrous winter solstice wedding. But for now… let’s make love again in the moonlight.” Sköld laid her gently down on the soft furs.
And worshipped the woman he loved.
In the morning, as rays of the rising sun basked the room in golden light, they made love again, to the rhythm of the waves pounding against the white chalk cliffs.
Afterdagmálin the Great Hall, Ylva and Vivi chanted avardlokkurandmade an offering to the gods, blessing the two ships that set sail forHeiðabýr.
Skårde would return toChâteau Blancin fourteen days, if the seas and winds were favorable. Njörd would sail toOrkneyjarwith Sweyn’s offer for Jarl Sigurd, then sail to Ísland and return to Étretat through theLyravélcave portal in early December.
Skjöld and Skadi thanked everyone for the sumptuous feast and the gracious hospitality, promising to come back to Étretat in early December as well, to prepare for the winter solstice weddings.
With tears of gratitude and fond farewells, they headed back to the waterfall portal in the Mermaid Cove.
To cross the crystal bridge intoÁlfheim.
And return to Haldor and Úlvhild in theDragon’s Leapcave.
Chapter 29
Obsession
Alberic, Count of Soissons, and a dozen of his personal guards rode through the increasingly steep terrain of the dense forest toward the mountaintop castle of Lâon, royal residence of King Lothaire of West Francia. Built atop a towering mountain of white limestone and encircled by massive walled battlements,la Montagne Cournonnéewas aptly named, for it resembled a crown upon a monarch’s majestic brow.
Summoned by the Frankish king, Alberic dreaded the imminent confrontation, for Lothaire had undoubtedly been informed of the disastrous defeat in Ísland.
And that Alberic had failed a third time to conquer the castle of Étretat.
While his men tended to the horses and waited in the courtyard, Alberic followed the liveried royal servants through the vast foyer of the stone fortress and into the elegantly appointed throne room.
King Lothaire, seated in his velvet tufted gilded chair, adjusted the jeweled crown which rested over his dark curls. A royal blue velvet cloak—adorned with the goldenfleur-de-lysemblem of the Frankish monarchy and edged with elegant white ermine fur—was elegantlydraped over the monarch’s regal shoulders. As Alberic entered the room and bowed before his Frankish king, Lothaire summoned a valet to pour two goblets of wine and ordered the Count of Soissons to sit at his seething royal side.
The king’s florid face was livid with barely contained fury. Lothaire took a long pull from his silver chalice studded with deep blue sapphires, swallowing his bitter bile with the fine Frankish wine.His piercing stare sliced Alberic like a dagger. “You have failed again,” he spat, his noble features distorting into a sneer of disgust. “Not only were you unsuccessful in your attempt to abduct Elfi Thorfinnsdóttir, but Gúldur, the troll Narglok, and the Rus raider Skugga were all slain in Ísland!”
Lothaire downed the contents of his chalice and hurled the goblet across the throne room. The piecing clash echoed through the empty chamber as the heavy silver slammed against the stone hearth, scattering sparks of metal, shards of sapphires, and splatters of rich red wine across the gleaming pinewood floor.
Heaving with rage, Lothaire staggered from his gilded throne and stormed across the room, stopping to glare out the window at the dense oak forest surrounding the mountaintop castle. “And now, Richard the Fearless is rallying support for Hugh Capet, calling for a coalition of clergy and nobles to elect a new king! The Viking Duke of Normandy insists that the Frankish attacks onChâteau Blanc— which led to the death of Dag Thorfinnson and the recent abduction of Lord Thorfinn himself — compounded by the disastrous battle at Ólafsvik and the attempted abduction of Thorfinn’s daughter — are all flagrant violations of the Treaty ofSaint-Clair-sur-Epte, and as such, grounds to depose me and elect a new king!”
Alberic sat motionless at the ornate table, palms dripping with sweat, heart hammering beneath his deep blue mantle. Lothaire’s rage was barely contained, and Soissons knew how quickly the fractious king’s wrath could turn against him. One wrong word, one faltering gesture—and his head might roll as surely as that shattered goblet. He avoided Lothaire’s furious gaze and forced down a swallow of royalbordeaux.
Lothaire’s personal valet quietly entered the throne room, retrieved the hurled goblet from the floor, and placed it upon a gilded sideboard against the silk adorned wall. As the grumbling king regained his regal seat, Ragno selected a new silver chalice studded with sapphires from the elegantly painted cabinet, refilled it with fine red wine, and silently offered it King Lothaire. The diligent attendant bowed humbly before the disgruntled monarch and discreetly retreated from the room.
Brows furrowed in furor, Lothaire scowled at Alberic for several excruciatingly long moments as he sipped his wine and slowly regained his royal composure. At length, he set the goblet down and leaned forward, a malevolent glint in his dark, brooding eyes. “You will abandon any further attempt to seizeChâteau Blanc.It matters not if you conquer a castle when the entire kingdom is at stake!”
