Page 25 of The Magic of Vanaheim

A gentle wind from the fjord rustled in the mighty branches of the ash tree and golden sunlight made everything around them glow. The seeress held the ritual with the seriousness she would have if she were marrying a real, loving couple. Håkon would’ve never expected that having even someone like Talvinen looking at him with false adoration in his eyes and promising him to protect and cherish Håkon until the wolves swallow the sun and the moon and the Ragnarök ends all worlds would affect him. Yet hearing these words, a huge sea of longing opened in his chest. His own vows tasted like ash in his mouth. He should’ve attacked Talvinen when he’d given him the sword. Better to die steel in hand than be cut down as soon as he’d fulfilled his purpose. But the hope of achieving his goal and riding home as a hero had blinded him.

Håkon closed his eyes in defeat. He’d been such a fool.

“Would you allow me a kiss?”

Eyes snapping open again, Håkon met Talvinen’s soft gaze.

“What?”

“A kiss to seal the marriage. Would you allow that?”

He didn’t understand Talvinen’s game, but what did it matter now, anyway? Håkon nodded.

Brushing featherlight over Håkon’s cheek, Talvinen’s hand came to rest on Håkon’s neck. Instead of feeling trapped, the gesture felt gentle, intimate. Håkon relaxed into the touch, almost against his will. Leaning closer, Talvinen nudged his nose against Håkon’s, his breath caressing Håkon’s lips.

“I waited my whole life for this,” Talvinen breathed.

What was that supposed to mean?

Håkon’s confused thoughts came crashing to a halt when Talvinen closed the last finger’s breadth of space between them. His lips felt impossibly soft against Håkon’s. Why did this feel so good? If Håkon had known that kissing was like that, he’d have tried it sooner.

Sweeping his tongue over Håkon’s bottom lip, Talvinen coaxed him to part his lips with a gentle sigh. He tasted like sweet apples. For a tantalizing second, they shared the same breath, Talvinen stealing the air right from his lungs, making Håkon feel floaty and lightheaded. Then he retreated, leaving Håkon blinking at him in confusion.

What in Hel’s name?

“So beautiful,” Talvinen whispered, smiling at him like he was the most precious thing in the Nine Worlds.

He lifted Håkon’s hand and kissed his knuckles as one would kiss the hand of a pretty princess. Feeling his face heat, Håkon didn’t know what to do with this inappropriate display of affection. Should he endure it or pull his hand away?

“I know a marriage isn’t what you planned for today.” Talvinen gave him a rueful smile. “But how about some mead to chase away your gloomy thoughts and a sumptuous meal to celebrate?”

Håkon wondered what Talvinen would do if he refused, but hewashungry, and if he got really lucky, he could find a knife to plunge into his husband’s gut.

“Why not?” Håkon shrugged.

He dreaded being shown around to be mocked by theVanir, but that’s why he took Anya’s place after all, and the discreet handfasting ceremony was most likely the last reprieve he would get. Accepting his fate, Håkon followed his husband into the citadel.

nine

The Wedding Night

?åkon

The feast was torture, although a different kind of torture than Håkon had expected. He sat next to Talvinen on a throne-like seat, as if he was indeed his royal consort and not a captured assassin. It was excruciating to wait for the beginning of whatever punishment Talvinen had planned for him, but the damnedVanrseemed to have endless patience while Håkon got more tense by the second.

Illuminated by hundreds of candles and warmed by a roaring fire in the center, the Great Hall of the citadel was bustling with guests. But although mead and ale were flowing freely, and the air was filled with music, the mood was dimmed. Håkon could imagine that theVanirdidn’t appreciate having one of their despised enemies in their midst, sitting next to their ruler, no less.

Plates of lavish food were served, and the smell made Håkon hungry and nauseated at the same time. To an outsider, he might look impassive, the epitome of the proud warrior uncaring of his fate, but his true feelings were a different story. Howhe wished his disregard for death was more than just a brave façade. But there was still a part of him that wouldn’t keep quiet, a part thatwantedthings he couldn’t quite describe, a fulfilling life before the honor of the cold Halls of the Dead.

“Would you like some reindeer?”

Already plating up the best pieces of the meat, Talvinen filled Håkon’s plate with vegetables and bread next.

“I—yes, reindeer is fine.”

Håkon eyed the offered food warily. It was an honor to be served first and by the prince regent no less, one he would never receive at his father’s court. But why he was treated like this was beyond him. Talvinen wouldn’t go to such lengths to feed him poison, would he? Would theVanirconsider it amusing to see him die a dishonorable death in front of a cheering audience?

“Håkon,” Talvinen nudged his shoulder. “Are you with me?”