“Naked in the moonlight,” he murmured, his wolfish smile searing her soul. “To bind our love and blood oath inseidr.”
She showed him the silver chalice filled with mead. “This is the same goblet we used this morning at dawn—for your blood oath of brotherhood to Agnar.”
The amber gems in the shimmering silver glowed like the lupine eyes of Kveld Nightwolf’s black wolfskin cloak.
And hermóðirFreyja, Goddess of Love andSeiðr.
“And now,” Brynhildr continued, removing her cloak and slender circlet, which she laid beside the chalice, “we shall swear a blood oath of our own—that our love shall endure, no matter what the Norns or the gods may decree.”
As he always did each night, Sigurd unlaced the back of her bodice and helped her out of the blue silk gown. Brynhildr slipped out of her linen underdress, laying gown and shift overher cloak. Pulling off her leather boots and sliding them beneath the table, she unbraided her hair and shook it free.
Sigurd’s eyes glowed in the moonlight as he stroked her long blonde locks. “My golden goddess…my Sun Falcon…my beloved Brynhildr. By all the gods, I swear that I shall love none but you, in this life and the next.” He unsheathed hisÚlfhjartadagger from the leather belt laid upon the table. Moonlight shone on the ivory bone hilt, made from the same blue wolf whoseBlárúlfrfur shimmered beside her silver crown.
Sigurd sliced his palm and let three droplets of blood fall into the silver chalice of golden mead. He reverently handed her the dagger, hilt first. Silver light glistened on the lapis lazuli gem set in the bone hilt like moonglow on the deep blue fjord.
“MySólhjartaChampion…my Sea Wolf…my beloved Sigurd. By all the gods, I swear that I shall love none but you, in this life and the next.” She sliced her palm with the sharp blade and let three drops fall into the golden mead.
He took her bloodied palm in his and lifted it between their lips. They each placed a reverent kiss upon the other’s hand.
Brynhildr raised the goblet, cradled between both palms.
Sigurd placed his hands over hers.
And together, they drank the blood-laced mead.
After a few moments of reverent silence, she strode across the polished wood floor and poured the remaining mead into the fire. As the copper tang of iron and the sweet scent of honey wafted into the moonlit night air, sparks flared and flames surged like theouroborosglowing above her breast.
Sigurd came up behind her and wrapped his arms in front of her waist. He kissed the side of her neck beneath the long, loose hair. “By my blood, freely given, I choose you before the gods.” He murmured into her ear, his breath hot on her cheek, his deep whisper warming her chilled bones.
Taking the chalice from her hand, he set it upon a hearthstone, then turned her in his arms to face him. In his fierce lupine gaze, she glimpsed sorrow, strength, and sacrifice. “Tomorrow, when we face each other in the Summer Solstice duel…” He faltered, grasping her hand and raising it to his bearded lips. He placed a fervent kiss upon her cold fingers, feral eyes locked upon hers.
With visible restraint, he swallowed hard and recovered his gruff, gravelly voice. “If fate forces your hand against me…I do not name it betrayal. Let the Norns and the gods bear witness—our souls are bound as one. In blood, breath, and body… I am yours forevermore.”
Brynhildr lifted her trembling hand and softly stroked his bristled cheek. Rising up on her bare toes, she brushed his lips with a reverent kiss. His penetrating gaze burned like theouroboroswhich blazed above his fiery Sea Wolf heart.
Her solemn vow floated on the blood-scented breeze and out across the starlit fjord. “By my blood freely given, I choose you before the gods and the Norns.” She took his calloused hand and placed it on the glowing ring above her left breast. “We are marked by the dragon,soulboundthroughseiðr, our fates forever entwined. Like theouroboros—the mark of eternal return—I
am yours…beyond fate and the gods.”
Brynhildr led him to the sleigh-shaped bed and lay down upon the soft furs. With open heart, outstretched arms, and long lithe legs, she welcomed Sigurd into her willing body.
Locking her limbs around his taut back and thrusting hips, she clenched him tightly inside and out. As the waves of pleasure flooded her like the sea flowing into the fjord, Sigurd filled her loving body with his seed,seiðr, and soul.
He lowered himself to her side and cradled her over his pounding heart.
With tender fingertips, she traced the ouroboros which glowed like molten gold amongst the blond hair across his tattooed chest. “I shall stay here tonight,” she whispered, as he rose and began to dress. “I do not wish to return to the feast. My heart is heavy at the thought of facing you tomorrow. I dread the dawn…”
He smoothed his deep blue tunic and bent to kiss her lips. “Tomorrow, we shall both face our fate with valor and honor.” He straightened, draping theBlárúlfrwolfskin over his broad shoulders and securing the lupine head firmly over his own. When he fastened the majestic cloak with the snarling wolf brooch, the blue fur shimmered in the moonlight, the lapis lupine eyes of the silver clasp glistening like the starlit fjord.
“Sleep well, my love. And do not fear the dawn,” he whispered, strappingÚlfblóðrat his sinewy waist. “No matter what web the Norns have spun, you and I are eternally bound… beyond the realm of fate and the reach of the gods.” With a fierce wolfish grin, Sigurd kissed her hand and vanished down the secret stone steps veiled in wild roses and thorned vines.
Mouth parched, palms damp, Brynhildr stared at the opalescent moon, heart tight with dread for the summer solstice dawn.
Chapter 11
Golden Wings of the Valkyrie
Ravens circled in the clear summer sky, their raucous cries mingling with the thrum of the exuberant throng. Royals guests in glittering crowns and shimmering cloaks sat upon the elevated dais, the grassy arena where Sigurd had battled Agnar yesterday—and would soon face Brynhildr today—encircled by roaring warriors, howlingSjórúlfar,and cheering villagers, eager for the duel to begin.
