Page 25 of Heart of the Wolf

Chapter twelve

Brielle

Despite Astrid’s insistence that no one could plan a bonding ceremony in a few weeks, Leif refused to wait until spring to marry. For a week, Brielle kept Leif on bed rest, allowing his injuries to heal properly.

During that time, Leif directed Astrid to plan for their wedding since Brielle refused to let him do anything else.

While Astrid explained that planning took time and the snow had already started to stick, she eventually relented when Leif lavished her with compliments. Brielle was grateful. She didn’t want to wait either.

After another week had passed, Brielle declared him fit enough to resume normal activities. Wasting no time, Leif took her, murmuring sweet praises and words about being unable to wait to make her his kona.

In the days that followed, she dreamed of it. Their life together. His wolf curled protectively around her, cloaking her in his shadow like a guardian of Heimdall. Sometimes, in her dreams, he carried her into a field of wildflowers, fucking her under the moon.

The will of the gods steered them, keeping them close until they solidified their bond. It ached in her chest, gnarling around her like the withered roots of an aged oak tree.

Fate had predestined them, and the unease wouldn’t settle until they joined their lives in words as much as in their souls.

Their bonding was set to take place in a week’s time. Only after Astrid bribed nearly half the women in the village with new dresses to help her. The well-worn streets were a flurry of activity. Hrafna joined the festivities, learning how impossible it was to say no to the Konungr’s sister.

The week before the wedding passed in a haze. Her mornings and evenings were spent in bed, with Leif buried between her thighs. Most days, he woke her with her already on the brink of exploding around his fingers.

Fresh blankets of snow covered the fields in a few short days. Game was scarce, yet Leif still came home with a string full of rabbits and, sometimes, deer.

He promised to teach her how to hunt once spring broke. While she appreciated that he always provided for her, she didn’t want to rely solely on him.

That wasn’t who she was.

And if that meant snaring rabbits while he was away, she would. Whatever he needed from her, she would give. Whether it was counsel, healing, or distractions, she would be by his side in all things.

Leif hunted, stuffing their chests to the brim with meat, and she spent time with Astrid and Liv. Andri had learned a few of her words, their conversation meager but growing with each interaction. He was funny and enamored with his wife, not at all intimidated by her strength in body and spirit.

Brielle quickly developed a fondness for the fiery redhead, impressed by her fortitude and skill with a spear.

When Leif became Konungr, she requested to fight, knowing she was not meant for a quiet life.

Without hesitation, Leif added her to the war party.

She and another warrior Brielle had yet to meet, were the first women in the clan to be granted such an honor.

Liv considered it her duty to the gods, to fight and bring glory to her kin.

She had six older brothers, all scattered throughout the village.

Much to her mother’s dismay, only one of her brothers had married.

According to Liv, the matriarch regularly spoke to the young girls, trying to secure matches for her sons. Unfortunately, her brothers were hopeless. Liv’s mother kept bringing Brielle loaves of fresh bread, complaining that she was too skinny to carry the Konungr’s sons.

All the color drained from her face, finding the woman impossible to argue with. She knew children were expected, but hearing it spoken out loud made her stomach flip. How her sons had avoided her attempts to wed them baffled her. Brielle couldn’t tell the woman no to anything.

It may have been blunt and a bit invasive, but it made Brielle feel welcomed and loved among the clan. A group of people whom she now considered family—kin.

While Styrr’s transgression unsettled her, the feeling was fleeting. The more time she spent among what everyone reminded her were her people, the more evident it was that he was in the minority. Most were thrilled that Leif was to be wed. It was as Liv had said.

A happy Konungr boded well for everyone.

***

“Morning, my beautiful kona.”

The deep voice rumbled along her spine, cutting through the fog of her dreams. Brielle stirred, mapping the lines of muscles through Leif’s sheer tunic.

“My wolf,” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.

Strong hands gripped her hips, guiding her until she straddled his waist. Her linen dress rode up, exposing the creamy expanse of her smooth thighs. Another, more feral-sounding growl shook his chest. The points of his teeth dug into his lip, his gaze raking over her.

“Tonight. You will come so hard for me that the moon and stars will hear you.”

A shiver danced over her arms, making her nipples pebble under her shift. His scarred hands bounced along her legs, his thumbs tracing the curve of her waist, when a grating voice cut through their reverie.

“Apologies,” Amund huffed, arching a brow at their compromising positions. “Tradition dictates that I take our Konungr to prepare for the hand binding. My moon will come to help you get ready.”

As if summoned by his words alone, bright blonde hair blew into the space. Astrid ignored how Brielle sat astride Leif, hauling pails of steaming water and pouring them into the basin. Sighing, Leif lifted her off him.

A blur of leathers flew by her face as Amund tossed clothes in Leif’s general direction.

Another voice carried in through the entrance, Liv’s broad shoulders nudging Amund. Long braids swayed behind her, glittering like wildfire.

“The next time I see you, you will be mine completely,” Leif said.

With a final kiss to her cheek, Leif left with Amund.

Astrid returned from filling the basin, her lips spreading in a wide smile that unsettled Brielle. Her soon-to-be sister shared a look with Liv. Before Brielle could comment, Liv yanked off Brielle’s underdress, leaving her bare. The cold air stung her nipples, making them tighten.

She wasn’t as embarrassed as she’d been the first time she stripped in front of Astrid, but she was cold. She covered her arms over her chest, and Astrid shook her head.

“Enough. Come,” she said, curling her small hand around Brielle’s wrist and pulling.

A resigned sigh puffed out her cheeks as Brielle rolled her eyes, unable to do anything but follow the tiny terror who was now her family. Even though a sliver of frustration ticked in her chest, she couldn’t stop her smile.

A sister.

Family and kin who loved her.

After helping her into the bath, Liv and Astrid washed her hair, tossing in sprigs of lavender and holly.

They took their time, running soft cloths over her arms and legs.

An unfamiliar emotion burned in her throat.

Brielle wiped away the tear tracks from under her eyes before the other women noticed.

Piece by piece, they were healing her just as Leif did.

Once dried, Astrid worked on Brielle’s unruly hair while Liv flittered in with a handful of garments Brielle had never seen before. Ornate, rich fabrics that made her lips part with a stuttered breath. Flecks of jade glittered in Liv’s dark eyes.

“A gift from úlfr,” she said. “Fit for a Dróttning. His Dróttning.”

The scent of crisp pine and cedar carried through the home, stretching out from the hearth.

While Brielle stared at the garments draped in Liv’s arms, Astrid tugged on her linen dress.

The soft silk whispered along her supple skin as she moved.

Both ladies helped her into the gown Leif had gifted her.

It was made of the finest wool, dyed a deep indigo, and embellished with golden threads and intricate embroidery that she couldn’t stop tracing.

Strong fingers fastened the outer dress with ornate brooches, each one carved with a symbol that Liv explained as she went.

One was for Freyja, the Goddess who had guided them.

Another for Odin, the God who had strengthened them.

One was for Leif, a wolf, the sigil of his house, and another for Brielle, etched with the setting sun.

Astrid finished the final braids, securing them atop her head in a crown.

She bent down, retrieving an iridescent headpiece that glowed in the firelight.

Astrid secured the piece, humming as she stood back to admire her work.

Liv draped a richly adorned cloak over her shoulders, thick and lined with ashen furs.

Runes etched in golden threads shone on the back.

They symbolized harmony, fertility, balance, and commitment.

The weighty furs and their duality hung over her. The warmth they provided lined with the duty she now carried. Not as heavy as Leif’s, but unmistakably important.

That first day, Astrid had told Brielle she was important. And now, standing where she was, no words had ever been truer.

“Now, you are a Dróttning,” Astrid said, her voice laced with warmth and pride.

***

Snow crunched below her leather boots as the women guided Brielle to the grove beyond the village. The same one where Odin had appeared to Leif and granted him his wolf.

A great pyre blazed at the heart of the valley, embers swirling into the sun-speckled sky.

People were scattered among the snow, some on benches, some standing.

The entire settlement and all the outlying clans were in attendance to celebrate their union.

A joviality that replicated the night of the feast permeated the crisp winter air.

Try as she might, Brielle couldn’t spot Leif in the crowds. Instead, their guests all greeted her as Liv steered her toward where she assumed Leif waited.