Page 11 of The Viking in the Vault (Galactic Librarians #2)

Elena notices my tension. She shifts closer, her voice soft as she murmurs something I can’t understand. I turn my gaze to her, frowning slightly, and she places her hand over mine. The gesture is simple, but it cuts through the noise in my head. I don’t pull away.

The vessel begins to move, a gentle hum vibrating through the floor. The view outside is startling—the icy landscape blurs into a stream of white and blue, and I find myself staring, transfixed by the sheer speed of it. Elena follows my gaze, her expression thoughtful as she watches me take it in.

I lean back, trying to focus on the rhythm of the motion, the sound of Fenrik’s steady breathing, the warmth of Elena’s hand on mine. Slowly, the tension in my chest begins to ease, though the weight of everything I’ve lost still lingers, pressing against the edges of my mind.

When the vessel slows and comes to a stop, I feel a jolt of apprehension. Elena squeezes my hand gently, her touch grounding me once more, and then she stands, motioning for me to follow. Fenrik rises immediately, sticking close to her side as we step out into the cold air once again.

This new place is different from the village we passed before.

Stone pillars are set on either side of a large wooden door, golden light filtering from beneath it.

I recognize some of the runes carved into the pillars: warnings to those who would destroy our history, blessings regarding the sanctity of knowledge.

This looks familiar, yes…but I’m certain it was built after my time.

The door opens as we approach, and the warmth inside rushes out to greet us. The air smells of books, woodsmoke, and spiced tea, and the soft murmur of voices echoes from within. Elena looks up at me, her expression hopeful, and I have no choice but to follow her inside.

As soon as we step in, I’m certain this is an expansion of the library we built so long ago.

Massive shelves rise to the painted ceiling, storing countless books and scrolls.

Golden motes of light float in various places, some held in the hands of passing scholars.

Once again, we catch a few looks–but I’m mostly interested in the retinue of Skoll waiting for us, led by a statuesque female a few decades my senior.

Or…she would be, if I hadn’t just spent millennia in cryo-sleep.

The group of scholars greets us with quiet reverence, the female stepping forward. She looks at me with reverence rather than as if I’m a curiosity, though I don’t feel deserving of any reverence–and when she speaks, it’s in perfect Skoll…or at least, my version of Skoll.

“Ragnar Stormborne,” she says. “I am Professor Davina Ferhalda. We have long studied the history of your expedition.”

The sound of my language, spoken flawlessly by one of my own kind, nearly breaks me. I sway on my feet at the sheer relief of hearing my native tongue, untainted by time.

“You…can speak with me,” I say, voice rough. Fenrik wags his tail hesitantly at the scholar, and she smiles down at him.

“And with your companion,” she says. “What’s his name?”

“Fenrik,” I tell her.

“Fenrik,” she repeats, and his tail wags harder. “He’s beautiful.”

I glance at Elena, who’s stayed close, watching me. She squeezes my hand.

“I have dedicated my life to the study of the Lost Expeditions,” Davina continues. “When we unearthed your records, we never dared to dream one of you might still live. I’m sure this is a lot to take in…but your presence here is a blessing.”

“You found our records?” I ask. “What did you do with them? Can I see them–”

“They are preserved,” Davina says, voice calm while my heart races. “Our people’s history has been safeguarded on M’mir for millennia–all because of you and your allies.”

The relief is a cold splash against the simmering grief inside me. At least some part of my crew, my mission, survived. I nod, processing her words, and the tension in my chest loosens just slightly. “And the Boreans?”

“Exctinct,” Davina says. “Their numbers shrank over millennia of Elixir use, and in their last war…they died. All but one, as far as we know.”

The implications are staggering. My shoulders sag as I blink away the disorientation of it all–and I make a mental note to find out more about the one remaining Borean.

“The galaxy has changed in ways I cannot fully explain with one conversation,” Davina says. “But you will not face the enemies of your time here. We are at peace.”

Peace…a possibility that never so much as occurred to me before. When I lived, my people were slaves to the Boreans, our planet wartorn, our histories at risk of vanishing entirely. And now…

What am I supposed to do?

I’m still standing in shocked silence when Davina shifts her attention to Elena, and she speaks once again in modern Skoll. Elena’s brows draw together at whatever Davina’s said, and she takes a step closer to me and shakes her head as she responds.

“What’s going on?” I ask Ves, who’s watched the whole conversation in silence.

“Davina…tell Elena…go home,” Ves says. “Scholars help you now–”

“No!” I snarl, pulling Elena into my side.

The scholars’ eyes snap to me, each and every one of them radiating sudden fear. I let out a low growl, daring them to move, and Fenrik bares his teeth on the other side of Elena.

“You will not take her from me,” I say through gritted teeth.

My free hand moves instinctively to my blade, and I watch as one of the scholars behind Davina staggers back a step. Davina, meanwhile, holds up her hands. “Ragnar,” she says. “No one intends to harm you. Elena needs to return to her studies; we want to help you–”

“Help me?” I cut her off. “You think you can help me by taking her away? She’s the only thing I know in this shattered world!”

Elena’s hand tightens on my arm, and I realize Ves has been translating for her, murmuring everything I’m saying. Elena looks up at me, her eyes pleading. “Ragnar,” she says. “Safe. Fenvarra.”

Davina sucks in a breath, as does Ves. I’m not sure if anyone else knows what it means–but they do.

Soon, Elena might know too.

Will she accept it…or will she refuse to see me again?

Am I going to lose her?

“Elena is a student,” Davina goes on, treating me now as if I’m a wild animal. Fine–I may as well be. I will not be separated from my fenvarra. “She needs to return to her studies. No one will stop you from seeing her again, if that’s what she desires.”

Elena looks at Ves and speaks swiftly in her language. Ves translates for her, their words slow and steady. “Elena says…stay with her tonight…” Ves says–though I can see in the Skoll’s eyes that they doubt their friend’s safety with me. “She think…best you not answer questions until tomorrow.”

Elena looks up at me again, nodding. “Safe,” she whispers. “We go.”

Those words–so simple, soft–nearly undo me. I don’t deserve her, don’t deserve this steadfastness she’s offering me. And yet…she is my fenvarra. The thought of letting her go, even for a moment, is unbearable.

Davina exhales slowly, then exchanges a few words with Elena, Ves, and their elder Merati scholar. The conversation is clearly contentious–but in the end, Elena grasps my arm, Davina giving me a resigned look.

“Fine,” Davina says. “We’ll proceed with our questions tomorrow. For now, you’ll go to Elena’s home with her.”

I’m overjoyed at the news, though I try to maintain a strong front. “Thank you.”

“But if you do anything to harm her or even try to claim her as fenvarra…” Davina says–and I can feel the tension rolling off of her, and Ves. Everyone else is oblivious. “You must know things have changed since your time. Do not touch her, Ragnar.”

Davina’s warning echoes through my thoughts.

My jaw tightens as I meet her gaze, the weight of her implication sinking into my chest. Do not touch her.

As if I would harm Elena, as if I haven’t already sworn to myself that I would die before letting any harm come to her.

But I keep my voice steady when I reply.

“I would never harm her,” I say, my tone low but firm. “She is everything to me.”

Davina narrows her eyes slightly, but she nods. “Then prove it,” she says simply.

Elena tugs gently at my arm, her hand light but insistent. I look down at her, my anger softening at the sight of her concerned expression. “Come,” she says, her voice calm and reassuring. “Safe.”

The scholars behind Davina exchange murmurs, their curiosity and wariness palpable. I hear none of it; my focus is entirely on Elena. She leads me out of the library, Fenrik at my side, his ears twitching as he glances back at the others.

The skarnhound is just as uneasy as I am.

The cold air outside is a relief after the stifling tension of the library.

The evening sky is painted with streaks of purple and gold, the auroras shimmering faintly on the horizon.

Elena keeps her hand on my arm as we make our way down the snowy path, her steps deliberate and steady.

Ves is on her other side, the young Skoll giving me wary looks.

“She want…tell you safe,” Ves says. “But…”

This is them talking now–not Elena. I fix my eyes on Ves.

“She good,” Ves says. “Do not hurt her.”

I nod. “I would never harm her.”

Ves exchanges a few words with Elena, and then they branch off–down the hill toward a clump of cottages. Elena keeps leading me forward, the cold nipping at my nose. We reach the crest of a hill overlooking the icy expanse, the lights of the village twinkling below.

For a moment, it’s just us—her hand steady on my arm, Fenrik’s breath misting in the cold, the wind whispering across the tundra.

And then she looks up at me, her voice quiet but unshaken. “Ragnar,” she says, her gaze unwavering, “fenvarra.”

She still doesn’t know what it means. I need to tell her. But as her hand tightens ever so slightly on my arm, grounding me in this strange new world, I let myself believe she’s promising herself to me.

If I can trust anything in this unfamiliar time, it is her.

And I make a silent vow that I will earn my place at her side.