Finding the glowing red pulse of its heart wasn’t as easy as finding it on a human. Its massive size, and the fact that most of its body was still in the water, made it difficult. I floated above, unsure, as my undead warriors kept it at bay. I thought of what the seer would tell me to do, and suddenly, I realized: my form was all spirit—I could go underwater without needing to draw breath.
I dived into the black, churning water. I couldn’t see anything but darkness and a vague form of the monster, but I didn’t need to. Its heart was enormous—one-third the size of the ship—and glowed brightly enough to light up the water around it. I plunged my hand into the serpent’s chest and grabbed hold as best I could.
It quickly became obvious I wouldn’t be able to crush this heart—it was far too large. Someone would have to kill it with an actual blade. I was holding it enough to throw off its rhythm, giving someone else time to finish it.
When several moments passed and nothing happened, I realized I’d have to convey what needed to be done. I thought of the way the seer had taught me to summon my warriors, and I reached out to them—I could see them, their skeletal forms awaiting my command.
I’m holding it captive; now you must finish it, I said through our link.
I could see what my undead clansmen could: the serpent frozen as though the lightning had struck it. A gleam of metal, and then I saw it: a sword protruding from between its eyes. One of my clansman had pierced the soft underside of the serpent’s head.
Its head and neck came crashing down, narrowly missing the mast. Even still, it landed on the deck so hard the ship nearly capsized, and some almost found themselves lost at sea. We held our breaths and watched as the serpent was quickly swallowed by the churning waves. At last, it was no longer a threat. I closed my eyes at the relief of having survived such an attack.
When I came to myself again, I touched my hand to Leif’s chest. He still held me, so close I could hardly breathe.
“Ciara,” he said in a breathless rush. He put me down but didn’t let go—in fact, he pulled me toward him again until I was pressed against his chest. “By the gods, I didn’t know what had happened to you.” He leaned back just long enough to put both hands on either side of my face, and then he kissed me, and we were both heedless to the rain pouring over us, the thunder booming overhead.
“I had to stop the serpent long enough for my warriors to kill it—I’m sorry, I didn’t think there was time to explain,” I said when he pulled back again.
“You frightened me more than the monster,” he said. “You aren’t the one who’s supposed to die.”
“Neither of us will die—look at the creature they sent after us, and we defeated it.” I touched his wet cheek. “We don’t have to accept your fate.”
He leaned into my touch for a moment before turning back to his men. “The sky is lighter ahead. Keep rowing!”
The men took up their places once again, though the serpent had damaged several thwarts from where it had landed, costing us several rowers.
I watched the knarr anxiously, but it continued on, though it rode much lower in the water than the rest of the ships. Frantically, the men on board shoveled bucketful after bucketful of water. Sheets of driving rain continued to fall even as the waves brought more water over the sides of the ships.
The undead showed no sign of being bothered by the storm, and indeed, did not even appear wet. They rowed tirelessly as the last of my strength gave way and I sank to my knees.
And then Leif was there, lending his strength to me. Together we surveyed the ships, anxiety sinking vicious claws into me every time we crested a wave. I had nothing left to give should things go terribly wrong, and worse still was the knowledge that there would be nothing I could do should any of the ships start to sink.
Then the rain, as suddenly as it had come, slackened. The clouds went from black to gray, and the mountainous waves transitioned into hills.
When the sky lightened so much so that we could see clearly again, and the rain became only a light mist, the living men upon every ship let out a roar.
“Thor has spared us,” Agnarr said.
I shook my head as I gazed slowly at the smoothly sailing ships on either side of us. “No. We saved ourselves.”
Sigrid stepped forward, somehow barely wet. “The storm was designed to drive your ships into the sea serpent.” She looked at Leif. “Fenris knows you’re coming.”
Leif’s arm tightened around me. “Then he’d better prepare.”
That night, I lay beside Leif and stared up at the blessedly clear night sky. I couldn’t enjoy the breathtaking beauty of the glittering stars, though, because I was shivering so violently my teeth audibly clacked together. Everything was soaked from the rain and seawater—our clothing, the furs, our cloaks. Leif had fallen into an uneasy sleep, but my tremors became so powerful that I jerked against him.
“Ciara, what’s wrong?” Leif asked, his voice gruff from sleep. He sat up. “Your skin is like ice.”
He pulled me toward him, but my limbs were stiff and uncooperative. When he started stripping my clothes from my body, I managed to unlock my jaw long enough to protest. “What are you doing?” I demanded.
He dragged over one of the leather bags the men used for sleeping—the fur around the top was wet, but the inner fur was dry, and warm. “Forgive me,” he said. “You should have told me how cold you were—all I could think about was collapsing on these furs and sleeping.”
“It’s all right,” I said, my words broken because of my chattering teeth.
“Getting in this will warm you, but not in your wet clothes,” he said with a pointed look at my soaked tunic, boots, and leather leggings. “You’ll have to trust I won’t take advantage of your nakedness.”
“Of course I trust you,” I managed to force out.
He efficiently and quickly stripped me of clothing and light armor, and I was too cold to blush, too numb to even appreciate the feel of his hands upon me. And then the fur surrounded me, and after a few quiet minutes of shivering, it finally calmed.
“Better?” he asked, a strange tone to his voice. I met his gaze, and heat rushed through me as I realized his efforts hadn’t been so efficiently detached after all, for even in the darkness, I could see that his eyes burned with desire.
It ignited something within me. All that we had been through together, all the times he had helped me and challenged me—the feel of his lips on mine, the comfort he gave me just lying chastely beside me each night. All of these things rushed through my mind, and I realized, I wanted more. I wanted him.
But as much as I felt the stirrings of desire within my own body, I wouldn’t give in to them—not here. Not covered in sweat and salt, surrounded by men and separated by a mere piece of cloth.
“Leif,” I said quietly, “thank you for jumping into the water to save me.”
“There’s no need to thank me,” he said, his gaze intent on mine. “I think I’ve made it clear I would do anything for you.”
His words made my stomach flutter more than the most romantic poem ever could. I didn’t think there was anyone who would say that about me—that they’d do anything for me. Not even my parents. It made me realize how much Leif meant to me, how terrifying it was to think I might one day lose him.
I couldn’t bear to think about it.
“You have no idea how much that means to me,” I said, and I felt my throat tighten.
“It makes it difficult not to come over there when you look at me like that,” Leif said, heat flaring in his eyes.
“I want more of you—all of you,” I said, the words tumbling out of my mouth before I could stop myself. “But not on this ship, not . . . without a bath.”
He laughed, and he leaned down to kiss my lips gently. “Then we will wait, for I have wanted you all this time, and I will wait as long as it takes.” His gaze swept over my form hidden beneath the leather and fur. “Even if it brings me physical pain to know you’re naked right now.”
I smiled as a blush again warmed my body. As he lay back down to sleep, I made a promise to myself and to him: we would find a way to save him.
I couldn’t lose him.
23