Page 44

The tension I have carried since walking into the Great Hall finally begins to ease. She means it. Somehow, that surprises me more than the praise itself.

I spent weeks studying her world because I thought I had to prove I could survive inside it. Yet everything that mattered tonight came from skills I already had long before I ever reached the abyss.

“Thank you, Madam,” I say with a genuine smile.

Solveig squeezes my shoulder, holding my gaze. “You will drop the formal title. From now on, you will call me Móðir.”

Móðir. Mother. I almost can’t believe my ears.

Solveig withdraws her hand. The sudden absence of her touch leaves a phantom cold against my skin, but the weight of the command stays with me. She turns, her cane clicking against the stone, and departs to greet the ambassador.

I watch her cross the hall, and for once, I don’t feel like an outsider standing in somebody else’s world.

Sigurd remains standing near his pillar, staring at me. I meet his burning gaze and acknowledge him with a nod. I still don’t know what to think and feel about him. But one thing is certain. Our connection has long since stopped being about any contract. Maybe, against all odds, this is where I belong.

14

Swimming in Circles

Sigurd & Valerie

The morning after the gala, I leave the fortress before most of the household stirs. I pass through the lower airlock and shift once I reach the outer trench, letting my true form fill the open water around me.

I swim several miles before slowing, then spend far too long circling the same stretch of trench. Freezing currents slide over the rough ridges of my hide. I drive my tentacles through the dark, sending smaller creatures scattering among the rocks. The movement should be enough to empty my head, but it only gives my frustration somewhere physical to go.

A shoal of bioluminescent fish erupts ahead of me in a flash of silver before vanishing into the dark. I swim through the space they leave behind and concentrate on the pull of the current against my body. But eventually, my thoughts return to the Great Hall.

Valerie had handled the room as though she belonged there. Ancient families watched for the human at my side to stumble, and she gave them nothing. She stood beneath the blue-green glow of the flora in her surreal dress, answering every challenge with the same calm precision she brought to her library.

I watched her from across the hall and wanted nothing more than to go to her. The urge is becoming harder and harder to ignore.

A violent surge slams into my flank and knocks me sideways before I can complete another circuit of the trench. I twist through the current and spread my limbs to steady myself as another rush of displaced water rolls over me.

A familiar shape descends through the darkness above me.

My mother is fully shifted, her form cutting through the water with effortless control. Blue light moves along the markings on her hide, catching against the uneven seabed as she comes straight toward me. She never swims this far from the fortress unless she intends to make herself impossible to ignore.

She intercepts my path and flares her tentacles against the current, leaving me the choice of stopping or colliding with her.

“You are swimming in circles, Sigurd.” Her voice rolls through the water in a deep vibration. “You are churning the trench like a juvenile.”

I hold my position and keep my tentacles close rather than answering the challenge. “I’m surveying the perimeter. Leave me be, Móðir.”

Solveig does not move aside. She watches me for another second, then shifts directly into my path when I try to angle past her.

“Don’t turn your back on me.”

One of her tentacles lashes through the dark before I can respond. It strikes my side hard enough to send a shock through my body and churn the seabed beneath us.

I absorb the blow without returning it and anchor two tentacles against the volcanic rock until the disturbed water settles around us. She has not struck me in two thousand years, which tells me exactly how furious she is. Apparently, Valerie has accomplished another first.

“You have to claim her properly, as is our way,” Solveig demands. “In deep water. Until you do so, your mate will not be your own. What are you waiting for?”

I tighten my hold on the ridge beneath me. “I refuse to trap her. The incomplete claim will eventually fade. I will let her return to the surface.”

Solveig answers with another strike. The impact drives a dull ache deep into my flank, and she closes the distance between us. “You are being a coward!” she roars. “She conquered the Eiriksson hall last night. She is capable of surviving the deep, and in time, her mortal years will stretch to meet yours.”

I know what a completed bond can do. Valerie could adapt to the deep, just as countless human mates before her have adapted to the lives of the monsters they chose. Her years do not have to remain limited to the span she was born with.