And her.
If she chose to follow.
“Konungr is not a title earned through bloodlines, but strength. The right to lead must be earned. When my father moves on, I will challenge my claim to his title. It is a duty I have carried since I was old enough to wield an axe.”
“And if you lose the challenge?”
She pressed, some of the softness in her features receding.
Njáll gave the only answer a warrior of his distinction could give. His thumb slid under her chin, holding her gaze to his.
“Then I will feast in Valhalla. For only the one who becomes Konungr survives.”
A sudden shadow of sorrow bloomed in the recesses of her eyes, leeching the color from her cheeks. He hated the pained look twisting her gentle features. That quiet sadness sucked the air from his lungs.
He had expected respect, perhaps trepidation, but notthat.
Something morose settled in her gaze. The look of a woman who cherished life. And now she stood beside a man who cherished glory in death.
He pulled her close, pressing his forehead to hers, closing his eyes.
“Don’t mourn a death that hasn’t come, little flame. I will not fail the clan. I will not fail you. No warrior can best me. I will be the Konungr.”
And you will be my Dróttning.
A strong, passionate kona to lead him while he led their people.
Fourteen
Elara
Moonlight glittered off his torso, highlighting the marks of battle woven into his skin. The dancing lights floated between the stars, their colors casting a violet glow over the valley.
The moist sea air did nothing to cool the flush stinging her face. Her fingers caressed his forearms, staring into the depths of his gaze while his words weighed her down like iron.
He promised her victory and Valhalla in the same breath. While her heartbeat turned frantic, his hummed steadily with a confidence she admired. Even if it did nothing to soothe the worry coursing through her like wildfire.
Anticipatory grief struck her like a bolt of lightning, the sear now a familiar pain. It thickened in her throat until she choked on it, her eyes watering.
Onyx mist swirled at her feet, gold eyes glimmering in the darkness.
Then, the draugar came, their voices insistent—demanding her attention. She closed her eyes, trying to conjure a happy feeling or a warm thought. She ambled through the shadows, flashes of golden water illuminated by a faint glow.
Njáll’s deep, accented voice sheared through the darkness, tugging her back to the surface.
“Kona?” he whispered, holding her face firm.
Kona.
The colorful lights strewn across the sky pulsed against her eyelids as they fluttered open. Alruna’s wispy tail curled around her calf before vanishing, taking the draugar with her.
Something between a sigh and a moan slid over her lips. Njáll stared at her with desire and unbridled adoration. It reminded her of the way her father gazed at her mother.
How the Konungr deferred to his Dróttning.
Njáll carried a heavy burden, one too insurmountable to face alone. And he shouldn’t have to. Elara wanted to carry it with him. He claimed her in front of the entire clan, marking her as his.
Part of herreallywanted to do the same. To peel away the few residual fears that haunted her, the last few reservations, but she couldn’t.
