“I’ll be waiting for you, my wild girl,” he said.
Blush painted his mother’s cheeks.
There had been a time when it would have made him groan with displeasure. Now, it made his lips twitch, hoping Freyja’s guidance would be as good to him as it had been to his parents all these years.
Once they were alone, his father’s silver eyes softened as he gestured for Njáll to sit on a stone bench by the fire. The man’s long legs stretched out, and he lowered himself into the space beside Njáll.
“What troubles you? After last night, I assumed you would be locked away for many moons with your pretty kona.”
Kona.
That title fit her perfectly.
Partner. Mate.Wife.
He ignored all the images of forever that rushed to the forefront, needing focus on the now.
“I worry for her. I need your counsel.”
A vein throbbed in his father’s jaw. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. Nails scraped through his beard, and he sighed.
“Tell me the truth of this girl, Njáll. All of it. You arrived saying she was the one Hlif spoke of and nothing more since.”
In all his winters, Njáll had never been able to hide anything from his father. He swallowed, collecting his chaotic thoughts into one coherent stream. He told his father the entire story. How the draugar called to her. The familiar. How he believed Freyja foretold them, and more.
His father stayed quiet, listening as he dragged his thumb across his lower lip.
Njáll ran a hand through his loose dark locks, having not braided them before leaving his home.
A blade carved a hole in the spot near his heart. It ached. The longing to be near his girl grew worse with each passing moment.
But he continued on, telling his father of the dream-like visions tormenting the beautiful girl.
Hisgirl. His kona.
And he had been unable to stop it. Njáll had never thought of himself as weak until then.
Until he couldn’t save her from the nightmare she’d been trapped in.
Silver eyes never left his as he spoke.
When he finally choked out the last emotionally charged word, admitting his failure, a brawny hand gripped his shoulder, squeezing.
“Beautiful women make all men weak. Freyja would not have bound you two if she didn’t believe you couldn’t be all things to each other. This girl will steady your heart and absolve your soul. She will make your burdens less. And you must guard her from herself.”
“What?” Njáll breathed, looking up from where his face rested in his hands.
“It has come. The stirrings have been growing for years.”
Njáll nodded.
“The draugar are a test. Hel and Loki prepare for battle. They are drawn to your kona because her grief has unleashed something ancient within her. A gift and a burden Freyja has tasked her with.”
His father rose, his chest expanding with a slow breath, and Njáll stood with him, following his steps.
In front of them glimmered a war-axe, mounted on the wall beside a tapestry of Odin and Freyja, locked in a shadowy battle.
A callused thumb trailed over the blade, and his father stilled, staring at Njáll with an intensity that reminded him of the day he named him Jarl.
