“Oh, Freya… Stars, I can’t make it through this.”
Freya broke from Astrid’s grip to brush a tear from her cheek.
“Of course I want to be with you,” Astrid continued. “I want to be yours in every sense. But I don’t know if I can survive the heartbreak of your natural lifespan. I don’t know if I can live on five centuries without you. How can anyone compare after I’ve had you?”
Her voice broke on the last syllable.
In the midst of Astrid’s tears, Freya’s own formed. She blinked them back and swallowed. No, it wasn’t fair. She would always have Astrid, assuming they could keep off the assassins. But Astrid…
There had been a moment, back at the temple, surrounded by priestesses, when Freya had come to the specific kind of clarity some people worked decades to find.
Articulating it would be difficult.
“You’re never going to lose me,” Freya said firmly. She pressed her palms into Astrid’s. “I’m yours forever. When I die, and the goddess takes me to her field and reincarnates my soul, I will come back to you.”
The statement did not have its intended effect, heavy though it was said. It did stop Astrid’s tears, however. “Now isn’t a good time for a joke,” she said lightly.
“I’m not making a joke,” Freya said. She brought Astrid’s hands to her lips. “I’ll be reincarnated, I’ll age, and something in my bones will remember you, and I will return to your side.”
“I don’t know…”
“Idoknow. The next time I die, I will be reincarnated again, and I’ll come back to you—and the same for the next life, and the next. One day, your body will give out too, and you’ll be the one to come back to me. That is our wyrd.” Freya kissed Astrid’s knuckles. “I know it to be true like I know the sun will rise tomorrow.”
Astrid sobbed. “You really believe that, Freya?”
“I do,” Freya said. “I absolutely do, with everything I have.”
Astrid threw her arms around Freya and crushed her. “Then I believe it, too,” she said.
Freya broke free of the hug and planted a gentle kiss on Astrid’s lips—a promise of their many years to come.
She pressed her forehead to Astrid’s and felt her breath against her skin. The smell of her, the warmth of her—all so intoxicating. Allhers.
Freya reached for the bronze hair cuff at the end of Astrid’s plait and twisted it off. She twined her fingers through Astrid’s hair. Astrid moved back as Freya loosened the braid, unraveling the three sections slowly and with care.
An inexplicable melancholy overcame Freya when she was done. She wanted to touch Astrid’s hair forever. Astrid sat watching, hair long and wavy and surrounding her face.
“You can braid it again if you like,” Astrid said.
Freya smiled at the easy way Astrid read her mind. “Maybe later. I am in the mood for undoing tonight.”
She tapped the lace on Astrid’s boot. Astrid held it up for her. Freya shifted to the rug, kneeling, and untied the laces from top to bottom.
“What else will you undo?” Astrid asked, eyes playful.
Just like she had been the first time they went to the Rosebriar Inn, when Freya saw she could be happy. Only, this time, Freya had done it.
“I’ll work my way up,” Freya said.
Astrid parted her legs so Freya could access the lace of her trousers. Freya looked not at the laces, but up at Astrid, who kissed her forehead as she worked. She unrolled Astrid’s trousers past the ankle, maintaining eye contact, and tossed them aside.
“Come down here with me,” Freya said. “I’ll undo the top.”
Astrid joined Freya on the rug, facing her so Freya could access the laces of her doublet. Freya’s fingers slid through thegaps in the laces, just the layer of Astrid’s tunic between them, and Astrid gasped.
Freya took her time. She pulled the laces apart row by row and set the doublet, still warm from Astrid’s body, aside.
“Nothing to untie on the tunic,” Astrid said.
