Page 19 of The Viking in the Vault (Galactic Librarians #2)

ELENA

I can’t believe this is happening.

When we brought Ragnar back from the Eiskammer, I figured they would have taken care of anything like this at that point. We were in the library; they could have done whatever they wanted.

But it turns out, Professor Ferhalda got spooked by all the fenvarra talk…and the whole team of scholars knew they would have to take him from me by force.

And that…I don’t know how to feel about that.

I know I should go home, but I sit in the lobby of the health clinic instead, tapping my foot on the tile floor.

Ves left a while ago; I told them I would be okay, even though I don’t feel like I’m okay at all.

Ragnar is still stuck here, waiting on Ferhalda and a couple other experts to arrive from Mythara, and I’m just…

…I really, really don’t know what I’m doing.

Because yes, I should go. I should absolutely go home and get some rest. I can come back tomorrow, and it’s frankly very strange that I’m sticking around.

But I don’t trust these people. Not with Ragnar, not with Fenrik.

Not with this fragile, impossible bond that’s somehow taken root between us.

I pull out my communicator and fiddle with it, wondering if I should call my family.

It’s late, and I’ve been so distracted that I didn’t even check in with them after last night’s storm…

but I need them, and they need me. I finally cave and dial Marcy’s code, making my daily extranet call all the way back to Earth.

It rings only a couple times before her face appears on the screen, one of her kids sleeping on her chest.

My heart aches at the sight of them in that hotel room–carrying all their stuff with them. The house wasn’t completely destroyed…but it’s pretty badly flooded.

This might be the death knell for living in Santa Rosa.

“Hey El,” she says quietly, smiling as she strokes her son’s hair.

“Is this a bad time?”

“No, no…he’ll sleep through it,” she says. “They got to hang out at the hotel pool today so they’re both pretty tuckered out.”

I take a deep breath, leaning back in the hard plastic chair, the edges of it digging into my back. “How are things otherwise? Any updates with the insurance?”

Marcy lets out a soft sigh, her free hand resting on her son’s back.

“Still waiting. The adjuster came by this morning, but you know how it goes—paperwork, delays, and more delays. Mom’s been nagging me to move back up to Boston, but…

” She trails off, her eyes distant for a moment.

“I don’t know. It’s hard to imagine leaving California, even if things are a mess. ”

I nod, understanding but not knowing how to help. My sister is the most grounded person I know, but seeing her like this—tired, stretched thin—it reminds me how much I’ve been away. Too far away. Too out of touch. “I wish I could help more,” I say, my voice soft.

“You’re helping by doing what you’re doing, El,” she says, offering me a small smile. “The work you’re doing…it’s important. You don’t need to feel guilty.”

But I do. I always do. And tonight, with everything happening here, it feels heavier than usual. I glance down at my communicator, my fingers fidgeting with the edge of the device. “Marce, I…there’s something I need to tell you.”

Her brow furrows slightly, her tone shifting to that quiet, probing concern only older sisters can manage. “What’s going on?”

I hesitate, my words caught in my throat. Where do I even start? How do I explain Ragnar and Fenrik and the whole chaotic mess of the Eiskammer? Up until now, I’ve kept it vague—just a story about an earthquake delaying my research, nothing more. But now…now I need someone to know.

I need someone to understand what’s happening. Someone outside of it, someone who can tell me what I’m supposed to do.

“I didn’t tell you everything about the earthquake,” I say finally, my voice low and careful. “About why I’ve been so…distracted.”

Marcy’s gaze sharpens, and she adjusts her son slightly on her lap, giving me her full attention. “Okay,” she says. “Start from the beginning.”

I glance around the clinic lobby, making sure no one is within earshot.

It’s late, and most of the other visitors have cleared out, leaving just the faint hum of machinery and the quiet murmur of the night shift staff in the distance.

Still, I lower my voice. “When I was down there, in the Eiskammer, I…I found something. Someone, actually.”

Her brows shoot up. “Someone?”

I nod, my heart pounding as I try to find the words. “This is going to sound crazy, but…his name is Ragnar Stormborne. He’s —he was trapped down there, frozen in cryostasis. For like…a long time.”

“How long is a long time?”

“Um…more than four thousand years?”

Marcy’s jaw drops, eyes wide. I can tell she wants to get loud, but she checks herself when her son sighs and shifts in her arms.

“El, what the heck?” she whispers. “How long has this been going on?”

“A few days,” I say. “He’s been staying with me since we got back.”

“Does anyone else know?”

I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. “Oh, they know. That’s the problem. The team here—they’re terrified. They think he could be carrying ancient pathogens or something, so they’ve quarantined him. And Fenrik, too.”

“Who’s Fenrik?”

“His…skarnhound. Like a massive alien dog, but smarter and more loyal than any dog you’ve ever met.”

Marcy blinks, absorbing the information. “Okay, so…wait. Let me get this straight. You found an ancient warrior and his alien dog frozen in ice, brought them back, and now they’re quarantined because the scientists think they’re…what, dangerous?”

“Exactly,” I say, my frustration spilling out. “But they’re not dangerous, Marcy. Ragnar’s not some wild animal—they’re treating him like a threat, but he’s just…he’s lost. He doesn’t understand this world, and they’re acting like he’s some kind of ticking time bomb.”

“Well, is he?” she asks. “If it isn’t safe…Elena, I’m worried about you–”

“Yeah, everyone seems to be,” I mutter, raking my hand through my hair.

“But I’m fine. He would never hurt me. We were just hanging out the whole day before the university went crazy and basically forced him into quarantine.

I’ve already been through a whole bunch of tests and I guess he was totally clean. ”

Her brow furrows at that. “Wait a hot second,” she says. “Clean? Like…”

Her voice gets even quieter.

“Did you have sex with him?”

I blush, which I’m sure betrays the fact that, even though I haven’t had sex with him, I sure would like to. “No,” I blurt. “Just…he didn’t give me any ancient diseases or anything.”

Understanding spreads across her face, though.

I’m caught.

“You like him, though,” she says, and when I react–even subtly–she grins. “You really like him.”

“Yeah, that’s making it even more complicated,” I murmur. “He thinks I’m his soulmate.”

Marcy’s eyes widen, and then her jaw drops in disbelief. “Soulmate?” she whispers, as if she’s afraid saying it louder will somehow make it even more real. “Like…Skoll soulmate? That’s a thing?”

I nod, already regretting letting that slip. “Apparently, yeah. It’s this whole thing in their culture—fenvarra. He thinks it’s fate or destiny or whatever.”

Marcy stares at me for a long moment before letting out a low whistle. “Wow. You don’t do anything halfway, do you, El?”

I groan, rubbing my face with my free hand.

“It’s not like I planned this, Marcy. I just…

I don’t know what to do. He’s from a completely different time and culture, and he barely speaks the same language as me.

And now he’s stuck in quarantine, and I’m just sitting here because I don’t trust anyone else to look out for him. ”

Marcy’s smile softens, the teasing glint in her eyes replaced by something gentler. “You care about him,” she says, no judgment in her tone. “That’s not a bad thing, El. And from what you’ve told me, it sounds like he cares about you, too.”

I shrug, though I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks again. “It’s…more than that for him. This fenvarra thing—it’s everything to him. He’s said he’ll protect me no matter what, and I think he really means it. But, Marce, it’s overwhelming. I’m not sure I’m ready for this kind of responsibility.”

She tilts her head, considering me carefully. “Do you feel the same way about him?”

I hesitate, the question hitting me harder than I expected.

Do I? How do I even begin to untangle the mess of emotions Ragnar has stirred in me?

The way he looks at me, like I’m the only thing keeping him anchored in this strange new world.

The way he held me last night, so steady and strong, like he was afraid to let go.

The way his voice wraps around my name, low and reverent, like it’s something sacred.

The way he kissed me…

“I don’t know,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe. Probably. He’s…different. In a good way. But it’s a lot.”

Marcy nods slowly, her expression thoughtful. “El, you’ve always had a tendency to overthink things. Maybe this is one of those times where you just…feel it out. Take it one step at a time.”

I sigh, leaning back against the chair and staring up at the ceiling. “Easier said than done.”

“Maybe,” she says with a small smile. “But you’re the smartest, most capable person I know. If anyone can figure this out, it’s you.”

I nod, a small but genuine smile tugging at my lips. “Thanks, Marce.”

“Anytime,” she says, her tone warm and reassuring. “And El…just be careful, okay? I know you’ve got a good head on your shoulders, but this is big. Bigger than anything you’ve dealt with before.”

“I will,” I promise, though the weight of her words settles heavy in my chest. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? Let me know if you hear anything about the house.”

“Will do,” she says, adjusting her son slightly as he stirs in his sleep. “Take care of yourself, El. And take care of your…Skoll warrior.”

I can’t help but laugh at the way she says it, though the sound is tinged with nerves. “I’ll try.”

We say our goodbyes, and I end the call, tucking my communicator back into my bag. The lobby feels quieter now, the weight of my conversation with Marcy settling over me. But her words stay with me.

They give me the strength to stand and head down the hallway.

I know I shouldn’t. I know I should just go home, get some sleep, and come back tomorrow when everything’s calmed down. But my feet keep moving, carrying me toward Ragnar’s room like they have a mind of their own.

When I pass the guard and step inside, the sight of him nearly takes my breath away.

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, his massive frame tense and hunched over as though the weight of the world is pressing down on his shoulders.

He’s wearing one of the shirts me and Ves bought for him, a pair of loose pants, no shoes.

Fenrik is curled up on a mat nearby, free of his IV.

Ragnar’s head snaps up when he hears me, and the relief that floods his expression makes my chest ache.

“Elena,” he says, my name rumbling out of him like a prayer. Before I can say anything, he’s on his feet, crossing the room in two long strides. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me against his chest, and I’m enveloped in his warmth, his strength, his scent.

I stiffen for half a second, startled by the intensity of his embrace–still unsure if I want anyone to know about our connection–but then I melt into him.

My hands find their way to his back, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as I let myself lean into him.

He doesn’t say anything, just holds me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go.

“I’m here,” I whisper, my voice muffled against his chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He exhales a shuddering breath, his arms tightening around me for a moment before he finally pulls back just enough to look at me. His silver-blue eyes search mine, and I can see the worry etched into his features, the questions he’s too afraid to ask.

Without thinking, I reach up and brush a strand of his dark hair away from his face. He didn’t have any time to braid it back again, and it’s down in glossy waves around his shoulders.

He’s so, so gorgeous.

Perfect.

“It’s okay,” I say softly. “You’re safe…my fenvarra.”

His breath catches at my words. I can feel it in the way his chest stills beneath my hands, in the way his fingers dig slightly into my back. His silver-blue eyes soften, their intensity shifting into something deeper, more vulnerable.

“Elena,” he murmurs, my name a low rumble that sends a shiver down my spine. His hand rises to cup my cheek, his touch gentle, reverent, like he’s afraid I’ll break. “Fenvarra…”

His gaze searches mine, and for a moment, I think he might kiss me again.

My heart hammers against my ribs, the weight of the moment pressing down on me.

But then he pulls me close instead, tucking me against his chest. He holds me like I’m the only thing anchoring him to this world, and I let him, even though I know I should step back.

I let him because I don’t want to pull away.

Because I’m finally doing something for me…and I’m letting him in.