“But if you hadn’t returned this week,” Celine continued quietly, “I’m not sure how much longer she would’ve believed us.”
Avril swallowed hard, preferring not to think of that. She could only be grateful that the separation had proved to be much harder on herself than on Giselle. “Thank you.”
“Avril,” Celine said after a moment, “Gaston is still rather upset—”
“I know. I know he is angry with me.”
“Not angry. Only concerned. We’re both so relieved to have you back alive and unhurt, but you must understand how he...” Celine turned slightly in the window seat, facing her. “It was rather surprising to have you reappear in Antwerp so suddenly, saying only that you were taken hostage by mistake in a feud between two warring families. Why can’t you tell us who these noblemen were, or where they took you? Gaston would like to—”
“I have tried to explain as best I can, Celine. There is no need for Gaston to go charging off to seek justice. They set us free once they realized they had abducted the wrong women. And we were well treated. I was not harmed.”
Celine regarded her with a puzzled look. “And Josette decided to stay with them.”
Avril sighed. It pained her to have to be so secretive with her own family. “Sometimes, ma soeur, the heart makes choices that defy reason.”
Celine reached out to touch her shoulder. “Avril,” she said gently, “I know you may have been reluctant to speak freely in front of Gaston and his men, but...” She tilted her head, her eyes searching Avril’s face. “Is there anything you want to tell me? You said that your abductors didn’t hurt you in any way, but you seem... troubled.”
Avril blinked hard, forced a smile. “I am fine, Celine. Truly.”
“You know you can tell me anything. I would keep it between the two of us.”
Avril lowered her gaze. Celine was always so perceptive, especially when it came to matters of the heart. And Avril desperately wanted to pour out all that she was feeling. All the pain and loss and love and worry.
But she must never speak a word about Hauk, to anyone. Not even to Celine.
“I am sorry, ma soeur, but I must ask you to understand.”
Celine nodded and dropped the subject. “I know that there are some secrets that simply can’t be told,” she said quietly. “But if you ever need to talk, I’m here. I’ll always be here for you.”
“Thank you. Thank you for understanding.”
“Good night, Avril.” Her belle-soeur stood, her expression soft, her skin aglow in the moonlight—that special glow of a beloved woman who had a child growing within her.
Avril felt a pang of envy so strong it made her hurt inside. “Good night, ma soeur.”
Celine headed for the door. “I think I’d better go back to my bedchamber and try to soothe Gaston’s ruffled feathers.”
Avril smiled. If anyone could accomplish that, Celine could.
Her belle-soeur paused one last time at the door, looking over her shoulder. “Welcome home.”
Home, Avril thought, the word bringing a bittersweet ache to her heart as Celine closed the door behind her. Resisting the uncomfortable feeling, Avril stood and carried Giselle to her small bed, tucking the covers around her, dusting a kiss in her dark hair. Then she straightened and went to the window.
Looking out at the chapel in the forest, she closed her eyes.
And slipped the wedding band from her finger.
She held the circle of gold in her hand for a long time, remembering all the cherished moments that it represented, and then she walked to the hearth. Reaching up, she placed it in a lacquered box on the mantel that held Giselle’s most precious belongings.
“For you, ma petite papillon,” she whispered. “He will be with us, in our hearts, forever.”
Closing the box’s lid, she felt a sense of peace steal through her... at least about her past. As she slipped out through the door that led to her own bedchamber, she did not want to think about her future.
Because she had no tears left to cry.
The sun and warmth and sea winds of Asgard had not made Hauk feel any better, though he had been home a full day now. His wounds had healed, but he still felt... numb. Empty. A bleak fog had descended on him, and only one ray of brightness managed to pierce it: the thought that Avril was home now, safe. With her little girl.
He held fast to that image, took strength from it as he prepared to face whatever punishment he was about to receive.
Josette and Keldan accompanied him as he approached the door of his Uncle Erik’s vaningshus.
“Are you certain we cannot come with you?” Keldan asked for the third time, his arm around Josette’s shoulders as they walked. “I do not understand why the eldrer insist on seeing you alone. We all told them what Thorolf did—”
“Ja, and that does not change the fact that I broke our laws. The punishments must apply to everyone equally, Kel, or they have no meaning at all. I thank you for standing by me, but I must face this alone.” He turned to Josette, shifting to French. “Still feeling all right?”
She nodded. “I wish you and Keldan would cease hovering over me. I do not know if Thorolf’s claims about that potion were true, but I feel perfectly well.”
Hauk smiled at her, hoping that Thorolf’s claims were true, that Keldan would never lose his beloved bride and they would be together forever.
But only time would tell. For whatever secret Thorolf had discovered had indeed died with him.
The three of them stopped before the door of Erik’s remote dwelling. Hauk turned to tell his friends farewell, but emotion drew his throat tight, and he could not find the words.
He did not know if this would be the last time he ever saw them.
“You have done a good thing,” Josette said before he could speak, her eyes bright and earnest. “Setting Avril free was the only choice you could have made. As was killing Thorolf. Your council must understand that.”
“I am not certain they will be as understanding as you, Josette.” He looked at Keldan, held out his hand, tried to banish the leaden feeling in his stomach. Only seeing the two of them so happy together made this bearable. “You are fortunate to have such a bride, Kel,” he told his friend in Norse. “You were right in Antwerp. You chose wisely.”
“Ja, as did you.” Keldan gripped Hauk’s outstretched arm, his voice hoarse. “I will take care of Ildfast until you return.”
Hauk held his gaze. They both knew he might not be returning. “Take care of yourself, as well,” he said gruffly. He pulled Kel into a quick, hard embrace. “Live a long and happy life, my friend.”
“And you, Hauk.”
Hauk stepped back, nodding in gratitude for his friend’s good wishes. Though he did not believe they would come true.
Turning, he entered his uncle’s vaningshus.
He stopped just inside the door, his heart thudding a single, hard stroke.
Only his uncle was there, standing before the hearth, the flames behind him casting his large shadow across the darkened chamber, his expression dire.
The other thirteen eldrer were missing.
“Have a seat, nephew.”
Hauk shut the door, held himself rigid. “I would face this standing. Where are—”
“I believe you are going to want to sit down,” his uncle told him somberly.
Hauk could not reply for a moment, cold dread spreading through him at his uncle’s tone. “Where are the rest of the eldrer?”
“We finished our discussions an hour ago, and they departed.” His uncle grimaced. “I asked to be allowed to speak with you alone.”
Hauk took a deep breath, sensing that his worst fears were about to be confirmed. “Then let us dispense with the prelude, Uncle,” he said evenly. “I have naught to say in my defense. I killed Thorolf. I wish there had been another way, but there was not.” Hauk came forward to stand in the center of the room. “I also set my wife free, and that I do not regret for a moment. Simply tell me what
punishment you and the other eldrer have chosen for me.”
“There can be only one punishment, even for the vokter. When you killed Thorolf, you sealed your own fate.” A look of unmistakable sadness crossed Erik Valbrand’s usually stoic face. “Solitary imprisonment. For life.”
Hauk felt an icy tingle go straight down his back. “Forever, then,” he said, surprised at how calm he sounded upon saying it.
“I could not persuade them otherwise.”
Hauk looked away, nodding. “I understand,” he choked out, breathing unsteadily as he tried to absorb the idea, the finality of it. “I am grateful for your efforts, Uncle, but I understand the decision.”
“And so do I. But that does not mean I accept it.” Erik turned toward the hearth. “I did not tell the other eldrer the true reason I wished to meet with you alone.”
Hauk glanced at him. “You cannot break with the other eldrer,” he said flatly. “I would not ask it of you. If I were to try to remain free on Asgard, in hiding somewhere—”
“That is not what I meant.” Erik picked up an object from the mantel. “The reason I wanted to meet with you alone was so that I could give you this.”
Walking over to Hauk, he held it out: a small velvet pouch, like those Hauk and his mother used to use for collecting seashells, when he was a boy.
Hauk frowned in bewilderment. “Where did you—”
“Open it, nephew.”
Hauk took the bag, pulled on the strings, and lifted out what was inside: a faceted bottle made of clear glass, the sort made to hold perfumed ointments. It held only a scant amount of whatever precious scent it had once contained, the green liquid just enough to cover the bottom of the flagon.
“It is the elixir your father created,” Erik explained, “during his efforts to discover Asgard’s secret.”
Hauk’s head came up sharply. “Elixir?” he choked out. “Are you saying it was this he used to try to make my mother innfodt? Was it this that killed her?”
“Ja,” Erik said quietly. “But your father was not trying to make her innfodt. You do not know the truth—I have never told you the truth,” he amended, “about how your parents died.”
“How they died,” Hauk echoed, gripping the bottle in his hand. “What are you talking about? Why give this to me now? Are you offering me a chance to take my own life rather than spend eternity imprisoned?”
“Nei, that is not my purpose at all. Hauk, your father did not want to make your mother innfodt.” Erik shook his head. “He wanted to leave Asgard, to live in the outside world with her. Hakon wanted his freedom. He was trying to find a way to become mortal—utlending—not only for himself but for you. For everyone on Asgard. So that we all might be free to choose. Despite Thorolf’s boasts, I do not think he recreated your father’s elixir, but rather stumbled onto something different.”
Hauk stared at him in shock. And when he studied the bottle, he realized the green liquid it contained was different from Thorolf’s elixir, which had been a clear, ruby red.
“Your father was about to test that potion on himself,” Erik continued, gesturing to the bottle in Hauk’s hand. “But when your mother learned of it, she was terrified for his life... so she went and took some from his workshop. Secreted it in that perfume flask. And tested it on herself.”
Hauk whispered an oath, glaring down at the flagon with revulsion. “Why? Why would she—”
“Mayhap she thought it might make her innfodt, I do not know.” A muscle worked in Erik’s jaw as he glanced at the floor. “I only know that she did not want to be parted from him, wanted to stay here with him—and with you—forever. But it took her life instead. And your father in his grief chose to take his own life by leaving Asgard rather than live without her.”
Stunned, Hauk found the nearest chair and sank down into it, the bottle still gripped in his fingers. “Why did you never tell me, Uncle, in all this time?” he grated out. “I thought he had been trying to make her innfodt, that he gambled with her life and killed her. I hated him for years. If I had known the truth—”
“You would have tried to continue your father’s work,” Erik pointed out gently. “I had lost the two of them, Hauk. I did not want to lose you, as well. I had to save their son.”
Hauk returned his gaze, silent a moment, understanding his uncle as he never had before. “And that is why you destroyed his workshop—so that no one else would risk their lives by continuing his work.”
Erik nodded. “And because I was so full of rage and grief. And guilt.” He turned away. “Hakon had told me about his work. I knew it was dangerous. I should have stopped him... but I did not.” He looked down at the fire on the hearth, his voice heavy with remorse. “Mayhap because I hoped it would work, almost as much as he did. So I did not stop him, and they both lost their lives.” He turned to face Hauk once more. “I could not forgive myself. And ja, I meant to make certain no one else ever took such a risk.”
Hauk thought of Thorolf and the lives he had ruthlessly taken over the years in his quest, and knew his uncle had been right to be concerned. “And is that also the reason you were so determined,” he asked hoarsely, “that I grow up to be satisfied with my life on Asgard?”
“I thought it was what your parents would have wanted, that you learn to be happy here, to accept what could not be changed.” Erik held Hauk’s gaze, that look of sadness coming into his eyes again. “But in truth, you are too much like your father, Hauk. Always dreaming of more, always longing to wander. It is in your blood.”
Hauk swallowed past a lump in his throat and looked down at the flagon in his hand.
His father’s dream, in a small glass bottle.
“It may kill you,” Erik warned. “Or it may work as your father intended, on an innfodt. I do not know. After your mother’s death, I did not want anyone to take the chance of testing it.” Erik walked toward him. “I found it among her belongings, after she and your father were gone. Mayhap I should have destroyed it with all the rest.” He sighed wearily, raking a hand through his hair. “But I did not. I suppose I thought that one day, if I came to find life on Asgard unbearable, I might wish to take the risk and test it myself. But that day has never come.”
Hauk held the bottle up in the light. “Uncle, there is only a small amount—”
“Ja, enough for one. Or rather, I hope there is enough. If it works, you will become mortal, an utlending. Free to live in their world. But you will be vulnerable to injury and illness, as they are. You will begin to age as they do. And you will live only a short time,” he said slowly, “as they do. Mayhap only another fifty or sixty years.”
Hauk felt his heart pounding hard, not with fear this time, but with hope. He would be free. Free to leave.
Free to go to Avril.
He rose from the chair. “If I am thirty now, by their counting, I would live to be eighty or ninety. That is a full lifetime, to an utlending.”
“Hauk, if it does work,” Erik told him solemnly, “you must never return here. Everyone on Asgard will have to believe that you were banished to a remote, solitary cell.”
Hauk nodded, understanding his uncle’s concern. If his fellow innfodt were to see him—mortal, aging, free—it would only inspire them to attempt a new round of dangerous experiments, in an effort to reproduce the elixir.
If it worked.
He felt an ache in the center of his chest for those he would leave behind. For the friends who would grieve for him.
For all who wanted to be free, and could not be.
“It is not fair, Uncle,” he said gruffly, “that I be the only one to—”
“Your father would have wanted you to have it.” Erik placed a hand on Hauk’s shoulder. “You must make your choice now.”
Hauk met and held his gaze. His choice. Endless lifetimes in a remote, solitary cell.
Or the chance for one mortal lifetime with Avril.
“Thank you, Uncle.” He reached out to clasp Erik’s arm. “Whatever happens, know tha
t I am grateful to you.”
“I will miss you, Hauk.”
Hauk felt his throat tighten. “And I you.”
He lifted the bottle in the firelight.
And pulled out the stopper.
Chapter 23
Little Valkyrie...
Avril stirred in her sleep, moaning a soft protest at the voice that disturbed her slumber. Sighing, she slipped back down into her dream. ’Twas a sweet, new dream: that Hauk had returned to her, that he was here with her, in France. In Brittany.
Avril... I need you...
She lifted her lashes, blinking drowsily, confused. And somehow she did not leave that voice—that beloved, deep voice—behind in her dreams. It sounded as if he were here, with her. Beside her.
... help me...
With a startled cry, she lurched upright, eyes wide. She was not dreaming. And yet she was alone. The last embers of the fire still glowed on the hearth in her bedchamber. She was home, in her family chateau in Brittany, as she had been for more than a sennight.
And she was fully awake.
Avril, please.
She gasped in astonishment, covered her heart with one hand, could feel it thundering. Hauk’s voice was not coming from her dreams but from inside her somehow. Shaking, she rose from the bed and rushed toward the window, sensing that he was here.
Here, in France. In Brittany. Not far away.
And he was hurt.
She could see naught in the darkness outside, though rain no longer pattered against the windows. The storm that had lasted all day had abated. She did not stop to question how she knew he was here, or how it was even possible. She ran for the door, into the corridor beyond, and down the stairs. Below in the great hall, she paused only long enough to snatch up her cloak and throw it on over her shift as she raced outside.
It was late, most of the family servants asleep. She crossed the bailey with pounding steps, mud splashing her garments. Reaching the stables, she did not pause to saddle her horse, taking time only to bridle the stallion before she leaped onto his back, galloping through the chateau gates and into the surrounding trees.
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