“Brielle or Mamma, sweet girl. How many times must I tell you?”
A sweetness touched her eyes as she smiled, patting Elara’s cheek. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, but she swept them away. Njáll’s mother reminded her so much of her own. Elara’s mouth parted, trying to form the sounds to say mamma, but failed.
Instead, she simply nodded.
Undeterred by Elara’s presence, Leif tugged Brielle onto his lap, grinning when she swatted at him. He murmured something in Norse. Scarlet stained Brielle’s cheeks.
Some of the tension knotted in Elara’s stomach loosened, seeing the Konungr undone by his wife.
That light in Elara’s chest flared, knowing she had a similar effect on Njáll.
“Freyja is never wrong. She brings souls together, blending them into one. Like me and my kona and you and our son,” Leif said.
Elara stiffened, her stomach swooping.
A beard peppered with grey and silver framed Leif’s strong jaw. He ran a hand through it before splaying his palm across his wife’s thigh. The relaxed lines around his eyes tightened, his face turning serious.
“The draugar are drawn to you because you burst with Freyja’s light.”
“How do you…” Elara started and then stopped.
They knew, and despite that, welcomed her into their lives and their home.
“Freyja has chosen you like Odin has chosen me. With great burden comes great duty. Freyja already knows you. Knows your hurts and desires. Knows your strength. She trusts you to fulfill her will. Trust in that. Trust in Freyja. Trust in Njáll. And most importantly, trust in yourself.”
She suspected they knew about her to some extent, but hearing Leif mention the draugar made an icy shiver drip down her spine.
All the unknowns swam in her belly, soon replaced by a tide of calm that quieted the rushing thoughts blurring her vision. Elara found Leif’s knowing stare before meeting Brielle’s softer, soothing one.
Both exuded reassuring, confident auras.
“I don’t know what Freyja wants from me,” Elara said, guilt prickling her fingertips like she’d failed the goddess who put so much faith in her.
A roughened hand cupped her cheek, Leif’s touch reminding her of her father’s.
“Time will show all things. Many winters ago, Odin gifted me my wolf to fight Fenrir. Live your life and know when you are needed, Freyja will call upon you. In the meantime, hone your gift.”
“Gift?” Elara asked, her brows pinched.
“Yes. A gift. Do not fear it, min dottir. Now,” he said, swatting Brielle’s thigh, making her stand. “Let us return home for a meal.”
Elara didn’t move. Not until Leif extended a hand toward her, beckoning her to join them.
Twenty-Two
Elara
Now alone and dressed, her mind adapted to the silence, and the toll of the impending day weighed heavily on her.
Fingers traced the valley between her breasts, her gaze fixed on nothing in particular in the distance.
Today, she was to meet with the Völva to begin her own training. Mist swirled around the dew-covered grass, ominous grey cloud cover threatening overhead.
She couldn’t continue to sit alone in Brielle and Leif’s home, overthinking. She needed something to keep her busy.
Leif had suggested she return to Hlif, the Völva, and start working with her. He kissed the top of her head, assuring and easing her worries. That once she had a better handle on her magic, she would feel more complete.
So now, Elara found herself walking a deserted trail she’d only taken once before with Njáll.
