Page 24 of The Viking in the Vault (Galactic Librarians #2)

I bury my face in my hands, trying desperately to breathe through my mortification. As if he can sense my distress, Fenrik nudges my hand with his nose.

“Oh, Ragnar,” Ves sighs, clearly having the time of their life. “I love this for you—I really do—but, uh…you do realize that other species aren’t quite as…” They wave a hand vaguely in the air, searching for the right words. “As, uh…free love as ours, right?”

Ragnar blinks slowly at them. “What do you mean?”

Ves shoots me a quick glance, probably reveling in the fact that my face is burning. “I mean that the Skoll are a little…let’s say, enthusiastic, about these things. Other Pact species don’t tend to talk about fate and soul bonds and claiming quite so casually over dinner.”

Ragnar frowns, clearly considering this. “Why would they not?”

I groan into my hands. “Oh my god.”

“Because,” Ves continues, using their Teacher Voice, “most species don’t see relationships as this absolute, right off the bat. There’s a whole thing about taking it slow, easing into it, maybe not declaring ownership of your mate in the middle of a restaurant.”

Ragnar tilts his head like this is a fascinating new concept. “But why?”

Rishik leans back in his chair, amused but thoughtful, his claws tapping rhythmically against his cup. “Perhaps because not all cultures share the same instinctual certainty. You said the bond is recognized—but what happens if a Skoll were to reject it?”

Ragnar looks at him like he just suggested carving out his own heart. “Reject a bond?” His voice is full of genuine bewilderment, his gaze flickering to me like the very idea is impossible to comprehend. “Why would they?”

Ves laughs, shaking their head. “Oh, buddy. You really are old-school.” They stab a piece of meat from the platter and drop it into the broth before adding, “You know, some modern Skoll don’t even take mates anymore.”

Ragnar visibly stiffens. “That is not possible.”

“It is,” Ves grins. “Some of us like our freedom. Some don’t feel the pull as strongly. And some just don’t feel like getting tied down.”

Ragnar looks vaguely horrified. “But?—”

I clear my throat, trying to rescue this conversation before he has a full-on existential crisis.

“What Ves is gently trying to say, Ragnar, is that most people—especially humans—don’t talk about things like soul bonds and fate and claiming like it’s…

just a regular relationship step. It’s kind of a big deal. ”

Ragnar frowns, glancing at me. “It is a big deal. That is why it must be spoken plainly.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Yes, but maybe not over hotpot.”

Cosmia, clearly enjoying herself, props her chin on her hands. “I don’t know, I think it’s sweet.”

Ves groans, exasperated. “That’s because you’re a romantic, Cos.”

Cosmia shrugs, unapologetic. “Sure. But I mean, c’mon—fated soulmates? A love that transcends time and space? A bond that can’t be broken? That’s the kind of thing people dream about.”

Ragnar nods approvingly at her. “Exactly.”

Rishik, who has been silent up until now, listening with the intensity of a scientist presented with a fascinating new specimen, finally speaks. “It’s not so unusual, is it?” He tilts his head toward Cosmia. “Your people—don’t the Ka’reth also mate for life?”

Cosmia’s antennae twitch, her wings giving the faintest flutter.

“Mmhm—but it’s a little different. When a Ka’reth chooses a mate—truly chooses them—our bodies change.

Our wing patterns shift, our pheromones change, even our bioluminescence can adjust. It’s…

like a chrysalis. So there’s not a call or anything, we choose each other…

kind of like what people do with Elixir ceremonies. ”

Rishik nods. “There’s documented evidence of it in the Pact’s xenobiological archives.

A Ka’reth in the early stages of mating can enter a brief dormancy period, after which their wing markings develop into something entirely unique—something that reflects their mate bond.

Once the change happens, it’s permanent. ”

Ragnar tilts his head, studying Cosmia with new interest. “Your form alters for your mate?”

Cosmia shrugs. “It’s not like we wake up one day as a whole new person.

It’s gradual. Subtle. But it’s irreversible.

” Her golden fingers drum lightly against her cup, and I get the sense that she’s choosing her words carefully.

“That’s why we don’t…rush into things. There’s no breaking a Ka’reth bond.

No undoing it. If we mate, it’s for life.

Maybe longer, depending on what you think happens after death. ”

Ragnar watches her with an intensity that makes me wonder what he’s thinking—whether he sees the Ka’reth as kindred in this, or if it only reinforces his own views on fate.

Cosmia, to my surprise, turns her gaze on me. “So, yeah. I get why it freaks you out, Elena.”

I blink. “What?”

She smirks. “Your mate is, what, four thousand years old? He’s not exactly going to change his mind about you. And from what I hear, Skoll mate bonds are just as permanent as ours.”

Ves hums, tapping their claws against their glass. “Yeah, but Skoll are a lot more…” they pause, searching for the right word, “…free love about the whole thing.”

Cosmia raises an eyebrow. “Free love?”

Ves gestures vaguely. “Y’know, compared to most Pact species. I mean, don’t get me wrong, a fated mate is a big deal, but outside of that, modern Skoll don’t really do the whole lifelong monogamy thing the way other species do.”

Ragnar frowns slightly, glancing at Ves. “But finding your fenvarra is different.”

Ves nods. “Yeah, of course. Fated mates are the exception. But I mean, let’s not pretend Skoll have ever been traditionally monogamous.” They snort. “I mean, we used to have entire social structures built around shared mates and clan partnerships.”

I blink, looking between Ves and Ragnar. “Wait. So…you’re saying Skoll are usually?—”

“Polyamorous?” Ves finishes for me. “Oh, absolutely. Not all of us, obviously, but historically? Yeah.” They grin. “You’re the rare one, big guy.”

“Not in my time,” Ragnar argues. “No…there were legendary bonded pairs amongst us: Maelena and Balor, Tor and Rhiannon. All chosen by Yrsa.”

Ves hums, swirling their drink. “Yeah, but we’re not in your time, are we? The Skoll might still believe in fate, but most of us don’t structure our whole lives around it anymore.”

Ragnar exhales sharply through his nose, arms crossing over his chest. He looks to me again, as if waiting for confirmation that the world has truly changed that much. I shrug helplessly. “I mean…they’re not wrong.”

He frowns. “You do not wish to be claimed?”

My throat goes dry.

I don’t have an answer for that. Not one I’m willing to say in front of an audience.

I feel Ves watching me. Waiting. I feel Cosmia’s knowing smirk, Rishik’s quiet, analytical interest. And I especially feel Ragnar—his steady, unrelenting focus on me.

“Uh,” I manage. “That’s…not exactly what I meant.”

He tilts his head, studying me in a way that makes my entire nervous system rebel. “Then what did you mean?”

Ves grins. “Oh, I love this. You guys are so fun.”

I want to die.

I need an escape. Now.

“I think,” I say quickly, shoving my chair back from the table before my brain fully processes what I’m doing, “that it’s time to go home.”

Ragnar’s brow furrows slightly, but he nods. He doesn’t even question it. Just rises to his feet, towering over everyone, and sets a hand at the small of my back like the matter is settled. “Then we go.”

I should be relieved. I should be grateful that he didn’t push further, that he didn’t make me clarify whatever the hell I meant.

Instead, I feel…unsettled.

Because now there’s only one thought left circling in my head as we leave the restaurant and step into the cold, snow-laced air, Fenrik trotting along between us.

What happens when we get home?