“What kind of ritual?” Bloodaxe regarded him with concerned confusion. Right, theJötnarleft the business ofseiðrto their women, deeming the art unmanly. No wonder Håkon had no idea what they were talking about.
“A fertility ritual to bless our crops,” Njord said.
Håkon frowned. “What does she need you and the blasted Odinsson for then?”
Njord felt a flicker of amusement despite himself. His nephew’s husband was adorably oblivious.
“It’s a carnal ritual,” he pointed out. “She needs someone with a powerfulseiðr. And a conduit.”
“A conduit?”
“A vessel. Someone to channel the power like a burning lens,” Njord explained.
“Someone to get fucked by thevalaconducting the ritual,” Talvi said bluntly, clearly not liking that his husband might get caught up in Svanhild’s schemes.
Håkon’s mouth fell open as understanding dawned on his face. He needed a moment to process the information, his gaze jumping between Njord and Thori.
“Why don’t we do it?”
“What?” Talvi’s voice rose with incredulity.
“On the night of our wedding, you said that it would be our duty to bless certain rituals,” Håkon said. “We could do it.”
Excitement ran through Njord’s veins. He was supposed to refuse the idea, but instead he embraced it. This could be a brilliant solution. Håkon and Talvi were obviously madly in love.The carnal part of the ritual would be no burden to them. And Njord knew that Talvi’s powers were more than strong enough to keep both himself and his husband safe. Still, he could sense Talvi’s reluctance.
“I’d make sure that neither Svanhild nor Sveinn would use the ritual to harm you,” Njord said quickly.
Talvi glared, stepping in front of Håkon.
“That’s what you all want,” he hissed. “Håkon had barely settled in Saeborg, and Perhonen was already pestering me about the rites. And now Svanhild is here to conduct a convenient fertility ritual of her own. I won’t stand for it!”
Well, Njord could understand that his nephew wanted to spare his beloved the hardships of the ritual. But these two could give Vanaheim a powerful blessing, and this way they could even deprive Svanhild of the satisfaction of claiming the ritual as her own. Njord liked the idea.
“What could it possibly be to Svanhild?” Håkon asked. “I’ve never even met her.”
“There’s a mighty spirit trapped in your ink, am I right?” Njord asked, nodding toward the swirling tattoos covering theJotunn’scollarbones.
No matter how convenient it was for him to hand the ritual over to Talvi and Håkon, he needed them both to know exactly what they were consenting to.
“A white bear I hunted on a quest,” Håkon said, clearly having no idea where Njord was going with this.
“My nephew can touch your tattoos, I assume?”
“Uncle!” For the very first time, Talvi seemed flustered, despite the strained situation. It was endearing.
“Yes,” Håkon answered.
Njord bared his teeth in a wolfish smile.
“If you conduct the ritual together, Talvinen will have to vanquish your bear spirit.”
“What does that mean?”
“He’ll have to defeat the white bear as you did. A deed as dangerous as your quest back then.”
“I won’t do it,” Talvi snarled. “You have no idea,dróttning. These kinds of rituals are arduous, especially for the vessel. And it would give me immense power over you. Your guardian spirit, your fate, it would all be mine.”
Heavy silence fell between them, but Njord couldn’t help but smile to himself at their banter. Gods, Talvi called the fierceJotunnwarrior he insisted on marrying ‘princess,’ and Håkon didn’t even seem to care.
