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 that 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.
Avril, I love you...
Her heart in her throat, she relied on her feelings to guide her, riding through the night until she found him, lying in a clearing.
He was stretched out on his back, a black horse nearby, its reins trailing on the ground.
“God’s breath!” She jumped from her stallion’s back and rushed over to him. Sank down beside him in the drenched grass. He was garbed in a dark tunic and leggings and cloak, the garments soaked with rain.
He opened his eyes, a trace of a smile on his lips. “Heard... me,” he said weakly.
“Hauk.” She sobbed, leaning over him, touching his face. “How can you possibly be here—how long have you—”
“Seven...” he murmured, his lashes drifting closed. “Seven days.”
“Do you mean you have been away from Asgard for seven days?”
He did not respond.
“Hauk—”
“Thought it worked...” he whispered. “Did not... kill me. But may have been... wrong.”
Avril shook her head, unable to understand what he was talking about. She checked him for injuries, could not find any, save for a deep cut on his forehead. It seemed
he had fallen from his horse.
She grasped his shoulders, felt anguished at how warm and solid and strong he felt, when she knew his life was ebbing from him. “Hauk, what can I do? There must be something I can do!”
“Saw you... one last time.” He looked up at her, his eyes glassy. Lifting one hand, he brushed his fingers over her cheek. “Worth it.”
“Hauk, nay—”
“Love you...” he whispered.
His arm fell back to the ground, limp, and his eyes closed.
“Nay!” she cried. Nay, she could not lose him, not again! Mercy of God, not again. She crumpled over him, wrapping her arms around him. Her cheek pressed against his chest, she held on tightly, as if by her will alone she could hold him here, with her.
And then she gasped in astonishment, in stunned relief.
His heart was still beating.
Even through the cloth of his tunic, she could hear it—steady and strong beneath her ear.
He was alive! She did not understand how it was possible, but he was not dead. Nor was he in the langvarig sovn trance he had said he could experience only on Asgard.
He was unconscious, his breathing even, his skin warm—too warm. Pressing a hand to his forehead, she realized he had a fever.
And an entirely different kind of fear shook her.
~ ~ ~
The first warm glimmers of sunset shimmered through the window, painting the bedchamber with shades of copper and gold, before his lashes finally lifted again. Avril exhaled shakily, felt as if she had been holding her breath all day. Sitting beside him on the bed, she brushed his damp hair back from his forehead, wanting to kiss him breathless, offer prayers of thanks for his life, and besiege him with questions all at once.
She settled for leaning down to kiss his bronzed cheek, relieved to find his skin no longer hot. She set aside the damp cloth she had used to try and cool his fever.
“Hauk, are you all right?” she whispered brokenly, all the tension and fear of this awful day spilling out of her.
He blinked up at her for a moment, as if uncertain she was real. Then he smiled. “Aye.” His voice was a dry whisper. He tangled his fingers through the loose strands of her hair, caressing her cheek. “Tired... but well.”
“You are not in any pain?”
“Nay.” He sounded surprised.
“Thank God.” Suddenly she was trembling. “Hauk, I cannot believe you are here. How is it possible? How long have you been away from Asgard? How is it that your—”
“Shhh, my little Valkyrie.” Burying his fingers in her hair, he drew her down to him for a kiss. “I am sorry that I frightened you so. I am not in any danger—”
“But last night you said you had been away seven days,” she sputtered. “Seven. And today makes eight.”
“Aye,” Hauk murmured, smiling as he tenderly kissed her tears away, a storm of emotions in his eyes. “It took time to find you. I first went to your beau-frère’s keep in the Artois, only to learn that the duc and his wife had escorted you here, to your home in Brittany, with your daughter—”
“Hauk, I do not understand.” She could not stop shaking. “How can you be here, with me, alive?”
“I am all right, Avril.” He pressed a finger to her lips, his smile deepening to reveal his straight white teeth and the dimples in his stubbled cheeks. “More than all right. I am free. As free as you are. Let me explain.”
Some time later, after he had told her everything, she sat staring at him through tear-filled eyes, too astonished and overjoyed and hopeful to speak.
“And that was when I fell from the saddle,” Hauk finished, frowning as he admitted it. “I had been feeling unwell all afternoon—dizzy and hot—and I became light-headed and fell. I feared mayhap the elixir had not changed me after all.”
“Hauk, I believe what you experienced is simply what we call the ague. It is what happens sometimes when one rides for long hours in a cold autumn rain.” Relief bubbled through her as she smoothed his tangled hair back from his forehead, smiling down at him. “It is quite common among us mortals.”
“I was eager to reach you, my love.”
“And I am afraid you will have a mark to show for it,” she told him reluctantly. “This cut on your forehead will take a while to heal, and it looks as if you may have a scar.”
He reached up to touch it, an odd smile playing around his lips. “A scar?”
“Pray do not sound so pleased,” she admonished. “I would greatly prefer that you not acquire any more.”
He laughed. “I will try, my love.”
“Hauk,” she said more seriously, “there is... there is something else that puzzles me. When you were out in the forest, hurt, I-I heard you somehow, calling to me—”
“From inside you, as if I were in your mind, your heart.”
“Aye,” she said in soft wonder, holding his gaze.
“I am not certain myself how it is possible, only that it is said that some men of Asgard share such a bond with their brides. Does it frighten you, little Valkyrie?” he asked gently.
“Nay.” Avril touched his face, her heart beating fast. “I... it only startled me. The way the dreams did. I—” She blushed, glancing down. “I had dreams of you, before we even met. Rather vivid dreams.”
“And I have dreamed of you, as well,” he said huskily, drawing her down onto the bed with him.
Their mouths met in a deep, lingering kiss.
“Hauk,” she said with a sigh as he nuzzled her cheek, her hair. “I am afraid I cannot stay in here much longer, or they will become suspicious.”
“They?”
“Celine and Gaston. They are waiting downstairs in the great hall.”
“Avril, you did not explain to them—”
“Nay, of course not,” she assured him. “I told them I happened upon an injured man—while I was out riding because I could not sleep—and like any good Samaritan, I brought you here to one of the guest bedchambers to heal.”
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, milady.” He chuckled.
“And yours, sir,” Avril returned with a grin. “But if I remain in here with you any longer, they will begin to realize I am much more to you than a concerned hostess.” She started to get up. “I have been informing them of your condition every now and then.”
“Tell them I will live—as long as you stay with me.” Smiling, he pulled her back down to sit beside him. “Tell them we once saw each other from afar, and I have traveled a great distance to find you because I knew I would love you forever. But do not go yet. First, I have something to ask of you.” His expression became serious. “We must still keep Asgard a secret, to protect everyone there.”
“Aye.” She nodded, warmed by his words and his touch.
“And I am afraid I must retract the other promise I asked of you.” He smoothed her hair back from her face, drew her down for another kiss, murmuring against her mouth, “I do not wish for you to find another husband.”
“Oh?”
“Marry me again, Avril. In the tradition of your people. Let me love you, and take care of you and Giselle... and give you more children to love.”
Tears blurred her vision as she looked into his eyes, those pale-blue eyes like the sky lit by the sun’s hottest rays. “Aye. Oh, aye, Hauk Valbrand. I will marry you. Again.”
Another quick kiss gave way to long, slow kisses. And an embrace that made her body tingle in all its most sensitive places.
“Hauk,” she murmured, even as she melted down onto the bed with him, “I really should go and speak to Celine and Gaston...”
“Five minutes,” Hauk murmured hungrily, easing her onto her back, his hard body covering hers. “Only five minutes more.”
“You are most impatient.” She laughed, twining her arms around his neck. “For a man of three hundred.”
“Thirty,” he corrected lightly. “Here in your world, I am only thirty.”
She pulled him closer, filled with wonder and joy. “I thin
k you will be very handsome, all craggy and silver-haired one day.”
“You will have a chance to find out, my love.” He grinned. “Now then, I believe I was about to make your dream come true.”
“You already have,” she whispered happily. “You already have.”
Acknowledgments
I’d like to express my deepest gratitude to my sisters of the Clork & Toach: LaVerne Coan, Elizabeth Manz, and Linda Pedder. Thank you for supplying me with chocolate, finding me trees, and supporting me while I wrote and revised the original manuscript of Timeless, even during super-killer-deadline-crunch.
Special thanks to LaVerne, Linda, Judi R., Sandra M., and Stephanie M. for serving as my beta readers on this new, revised edition of Timeless. I appreciate your time, generosity, and insights more than words can say.
Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed spending time with Hauk and Avril in the pages of Timeless. I’d love to keep writing books that touch your heart for many years to come. Readers like you make it possible, and I’m so thankful for your support and enthusiasm.
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