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Copyright © 2016 by Asa Maria Bradley
Cover and internal design © 2016 by Sourcebooks, Inc.
Cover design by Eileen Carey/No Fuss Design
Cover images © prochasson frederic/Shutterstock, Kl Petro/Shutterstock, mandritoiu/Shutterstock, erick4x4/Getty Images
Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
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Contents
Front Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
An Excerpt from Viking Warrior Rising
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Back Cover
To my dad and my father-in-law, for showing me what being a good father and a good husband look like. You are both so very missed.
Bengt Arne Harry Larsson
(November 27, 1941–December 19, 2015)
Laurence Frank Bradley
(November 1, 1930–April 10, 2016)
Chapter 1
Astrid zipped her duffel bag and took a last look around the sparsely decorated room to see if she’d forgotten anything. She couldn’t think of what else to bring. Everything she needed for her mission was neatly packed in her bag. Toiletries and clothes nestled next to weapons and ammunition like pieces of a puzzle. She’d always prided herself on packing light. A true warrior should be able to leave for battle at a moment’s notice.
She shrugged into her favorite leather jacket and slipped her cell phone into the pocket. A light knock on the door announced Naya entering the room. The queen wore a traditional Norse sleeveless gray tunic over slim black pants. Although Astrid couldn’t see it from her current position, she knew the back of the garment showed an intricately embroidered bear. She knew because she had a tunic just like it in her own closet. The bear was a symbol of their berserker, the inner warrior soul the immortal Vikings and Valkyrie channeled when they went into battle.
Naya flung herself into the armchair next to the bed in a most unqueenly fashion. The slight woman had been handfasted to Leif, the Viking king, for only ten months and still wasn’t used to her role as ruling royalty. Although, Astrid doubted Naya would ever put on regal airs. Her new mortal queen and friend was a formidable cybersecurity expert and a master of hand-to-hand combat. Naya wouldn’t give up her work or her training to take on a more traditional role. Which was fine with Astrid. Naya’s natural tendency to say exactly what was on her mind without any political filtering made it easy to be her friend. And Astrid had too few of those.
“Looks like you’re all packed,” Naya said. “Are you sure you don’t want to take one of the others with you as backup? I’m sure Ulf would go.”
Astrid snorted. “Ulf and I would bicker so much that the trip would take twice as long, and one of us would probably mortally wound the other by the time we got back.” That was another reason the Norse warriors needed their queen’s frank assessments. The fortress hidden deep in the eastern Washington State pine forest held way too much testosterone. Naya and Astrid were two of only three Valkyries trying to educate the immortal Viking warriors about women in the twenty-first century.
A smirk played on Naya’s lips. “There is that.” She leaned forward in the chair. “But are you sure you will be okay on your own?”
“I’ll be fine.” Astrid avoided looking at Naya, knowing she’d see deep concern in her friend’s eyes. During the last few skirmishes with Loki’s creatures, Astrid had struggled to regain control over her berserker after the battle was over. She’d tried to hide it from the others, but the king was connected to all the warriors’ berserkers. And Naya felt what was going on with each warrior through her själsfrände bond, her soul-mate connection with the king.
“If you say so, it’s just that—”
Astrid interrupted. “I am honored that you chose me.” She turned to face Naya. “Believe me, I know how much you care about your brother, and I will not screw this up.” She couldn’t afford to. During her last patrol, she’d gone so far into battle fever that she hadn’t paid close enough attention to her surroundings and had almost taken out an innocent bystander. Ulf had been there to witness the near catastrophe, which was another reason she didn’t want the warrior with her as backup. He’d just expect her to screw up again. All her battle brothers did. She needed to do this alone to prove to them—and to herself most of all—that she was a worthy warrior.
“We have complete faith in your ability to bring my brother back,” Naya answered, her dark-blue eyes serious.
Astrid doubted the king did but chose not to contradict her friend. “I’ll be in constant contact. I promise.” She’d been chosen for this mission before her last screwup, and she knew Ulf had shared his concern with Leif, and probably with some of the other warriors as well. Astrid suspected she was only still on the mission because the queen had talked the king out of replacing her. Naya’s loyalty, once earned, was unwavering.
“Of course you will.” Naya waved her hand as if staying in contact was a given. The two of them talked daily, and she didn’t know how unusual this new closeness was for Astrid. “It’s just hard for me. I want to bring Scott back on my own.”
“You know you can’t. Leaving Leif would weaken your bond, and that would weaken all of us.” She didn’t tell Naya that now that she was queen, it was unlikely she’d ever do major fighting on her own again. Leif allowed her to join regular patrols without him, but anything above that would drive the overprotective king crazy.
“He could come with me.” Naya’s tone was wistful.
Astrid didn’t bother to answer. She just quirked a
n eyebrow.
Naya sighed. “Yes, fine, I know that’s not possible. I have to figure out a new way to monitor the wolverines’ activities. The labs have gone completely underground, but I picked up some chatter on the Darknet.” The only reason Astrid knew anything about the hidden corners of the Internet was because Naya wouldn’t shut up about geeky stuff. Astrid preferred fighting Loki’s wolverines to monitoring their online communications. The wolverines were trying to manipulate and dominate the human population into inadvertently triggering Ragnarök, the final battle and the world’s’ end. Freya and Odin had countered by sending immortal Vikings and Valkyries to battle Loki’s minions. With Naya’s help, they’d taken down one of the labs used to genetically engineer wolverines, and for a while it had looked like that put a dent in Loki’s plans. Recently however, wolverines had started popping up to fight once again.
“I have no doubt you’ll be able to find the lab and shut it down.”
Naya smiled, but her shoulders slumped. “I just can’t get used to being responsible for anyone other than myself and my brother.” She suddenly grinned. “I’m pretty sure I’ll drive everyone crazy while you are away, especially Leif.”
Astrid laughed. “At least Irja will be here to keep you company in this sea of testosterone.”
“I may drive her crazy too.” Astrid doubted that would happen. The tribe’s medical officer seemed to have an endless supply of patience. Astrid had worked with Irja for a century, and the two of them had been friendly but never close. Naya joining the tribe had changed that. Irja was now as much of a confidante to Astrid as Naya was. Of course, surviving multiple attacks and life-threatening diseases tended to make people bond.
The queen stood and pulled her tunic straight. “Are you ready to go?”
Astrid squared her shoulders and nodded. She wasn’t looking forward to the skydd ritual. Whenever a warrior went on a mission requiring him or her to spend days outside the fortress, the tribe gathered to ask the gods for protection and courage. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” She hated being the center of attention. Especially now, when her battle brothers second-guessed not only her warrior skills, but also her right to be chosen for this mission.
“Come on then.”
Astrid followed Naya out the door and into the hallway, where the sun painted a kaleidoscope of colors as it shone through the stained-glass windows depicting famous scenes from the Norse Sagas. They walked down the stairs side-by-side, the thick carpet runner muffling the sound of their heavy boots. The rest of the Norse warriors had gathered at the bottom of the stairs in the large foyer of the fortress. Each of them had died an honorable death centuries ago and earned their place in Valhalla. The god Odin had trained them—or in the case of the Valkyries, the goddess Freya—and when they returned to Midgard, the human realm, the berserker became a part of them. They all wore the same tunic as Naya’s, to symbolize the bond they had with their inner warrior spirit. Since Astrid would set off right after the ceremony, she wore the clothes she’d be traveling in. In the old days, the blessing was believed to permeate what a warrior wore to battle and the weapons he or she carried. Her worn leather jacket was her version of chain mail, and she wore it pretty much everywhere.
The king stepped forward and extended his left hand to help his betrothed descend the last few steps. The Midgard Serpent tattoo spiraling up his arm caught the sunlight streaming through one of the windows and it looked like the snake winked. The king’s own ice-blue eyes were focused intently on the queen, and there was so much love and devotion reflected in them that Astrid’s heart skipped a beat. “Älskling,” he said, and Astrid felt a click deep inside her chest as he enveloped Naya’s smaller hand in his own. The physical connection reverberated through their själsfrände bond and the king’s berserker’s connection with all of the tribes’ inner warriors. Every one of them had a serpent tattoo encircling their biceps, but it was an incomplete image without a tail. When a warrior met their själsfrände, the tail formed on the top of their hand, just below their wrist. They then had to complete the bond before the tattoo crept up their arm and met with the main body of the serpent. If they failed to bond before the tattoo completed itself, they’d go into permanent battle fury and be a danger to themselves and their battle brothers and sisters.
A few of the Vikings surreptitiously rubbed their chests. The king and queen’s story had been a rocky one. They’d almost lost Leif to permanent battle fever when Naya had left him to rescue her brother. It was good to see how the royal couple’s love for each other kept expanding. In some small part, buried deep in her heart, Astrid wished she would find what they had. But a själsfrände bond was a rare occurrence. And it was rarer still between a mortal and a Viking. Astrid looked around the foyer. She wasn’t eager to date any of her battle brothers, much less pledge her soul to them.
Leif shifted his gaze to Astrid and nodded, a small smile on his lips. She tilted her head in a small bow and took her position behind the royal couple as they led the warriors out the front door to a clearing in the forest behind the fortress. The king helped his betrothed take her seat on the newly constructed majestic chair that stood next to his own. Both thrones rested on a large flat slab of basalt rock at one of the short ends of the rectangular opening among the trees. Behind the huge piece of volcanic rock, a giant ash tree stretched its branches far above the canopy of evergreens, a physical representation of the mythological holy tree Yggdrasil that reached all realms of the Norse universe. It dwarfed its neighbors, and the lighter-green leaves glittering in the sunshine contrasted with the darker pine needles.
Astrid took a deep breath and stood on the ground in front of the thrones. Her fellow warriors took a knee behind her, the rustling of their tunics a soft whisper through the air.
Leif’s eyes were kind as he looked at her. “Astrid Idrisdotter, are you prepared to serve your king and queen?”
“Yes.” She was proud of how strong her voice sounded, despite the rapid beating of her heart.
The king stood. “We ask you to retrieve the queen’s brother, a valiant warrior who has yet to join our tribe. The queen needs him by her side when she weds me two weeks from this day.”
Astrid wasn’t sure what to say, so she just nodded.
“Are you prepared to complete this mission?”
“Yes,” she said again.
“Will you protect the queen’s brother as if he were your battle brother? Will you pledge your life and guarantee his safety?”
“I will.” Her heart beat even faster as a wind rustled the ash’s branches and pressed through the trees along the clearing. It caressed her cheek and tousled her hair.
“Kneel,” the king commanded, reaching for something inside his tunic.
Harald, the king’s second-in-command, rose and approached the rock as Astrid sank to her knees and bowed.
“Raise your head, Astrid Idrisdotter,” Harald said, standing in front of her. His green eyes met hers, and he held out a cylindrical piece of wood. “May your journey be swift. May your sword be sharp and your enemies’ flesh fast to bleed.”
Astrid took the stick, and the runes inscribed on the surface glowed. “I will protect the queen’s brother with my life. None will harm him on my watch.” The runes flared and then the glow slowly died out. Astrid looked up at her king and queen.
Naya stood and joined Leif at his side. “Rise,” Leif said, lifting his hands in the air.
The warriors rose as one.
“Chosen by Odin and Freya, we are battle brothers and sisters. As long as we fight together, our enemies will not defeat us. Do you stand with your Valkyrie sister?”
“Yes,” the Vikings and Irja said in unison behind Astrid. Their voices vibrated through the air as the wind picked up, whipping the tunics of the king and queen.
“Do you pledge your loyalty to her and to one another with pure hearts?”
“We do,
” they said in unison again, and Astrid joined them when they thumped their right hands on their chests, right above their hearts.
Leif focused on Astrid. “May Odin and Freya bless your mission, protect your journey, and flood your heart with courage.”
Naya took a step forward, looking straight at Astrid. “My brother and I are honored. I have complete faith that you will succeed.”
Astrid swallowed the lump in her throat. She wished she could be as certain as her friend.
* * *
Twenty hours later, Astrid’s boots echoed against a shiny marble floor as she crossed the Denver hotel lobby. The male clerk on the other side of the check-in desk watched as she approached, appreciation glinting in his eyes. Despite the tiredness seeping into her bones, she put a little extra swivel in her hips as she strode toward him. After those long hours of driving, she was beyond exhausted and wished only for a cold glass of wine, a hot bath, and a bed with crisp sheets, in that exact order. Still, it would be a shame to let the clerk’s attention go to waste.
She smiled flirtatiously and tossed her wavy blond hair. The travel-limp tresses landed with a flop on her back. She hoped the hotel offered top-of-the-line toiletries, including bubbles for the hot bath. She’d grown up in squalor, and she now used only the best.
The clerk’s gaze dipped low and swept up her body before meeting her eyes again. Astrid sighed at the predictability of the human male, but still increased the wattage of her smile.
The man’s eyes widened. “Welcome. Are you checking in, Miss…?”
“Idrisdotter, but call me Astrid. It’s probably easier.” She gently lowered her large duffel bag to the floor. Her smallsword was in its scabbard, wound up in layers of clothing. It wasn’t likely to make a sound as the bag hit the floor, but the weapon was her favorite and had been with her for a long time. Plus, the guns might have shifted during travel, and there was no reason to call attention to how armed she was. She straightened and noticed the clerk’s gaze had slipped to the V-neck of her plain cotton T-shirt. Seriously.
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