Valkyrie fate, p.1
Valkyrie Fate, page 1
Copyright ©2024 by Nichole Rose
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
Cover by Yoly at Cormar Covers
Contents
About the Book
Prophecy of the Valkyrie
Glossary of Common Terms
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Author's Note
Valkyrie Bound Series
Follow Nichole
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Also by Nichole Rose
About Nichole Rose
About the Book
AValkyrie bound by Fate. A Fae warrior driven by love. When destiny demands a sacrifice, will these fated mates pay the ultimate price?
Reaper
For millennia, I was one of the strongest Fae warriors in Valhalla, willing to die to defend her borders. That was before the Forsaken destroyed everything I knew.
I've spent the last three hundred years trapped on earth, aching for vengeance. I never thought it'd come in the form of a petite little human with sapphire blue eyes and steel in her soul. The moment Tori binds my soul to hers, my allegiance shifts. Destroying the Forsaken no longer matters to me. Protecting this beautiful little Valkyrie is all I care about.
I'll do whatever it takes to ensure she survives. Even if I have to destroy the nine realms myself. The only thing I won't do is let her go. She's mine. My Valkyrie. My soul. Mine.
Tori
I knew my ordinary, boring life was over when I was ripped from my bed by monsters. But I expected them to kill me, not thrust me into the middle of an ancient war.
I certainly didn't expect Reaper. From the moment the warrior rescues me, our bond eclipses everything. It doesn't matter that this world is new and terrifying. It doesn't even matter that they're asking me to do the impossible. All that matters is him.
Right up until I'm forced to make a choice that may destroy us both. How do I choose between the man I love and the fate of everything?
Prophecy of the Valkyrie
"In a realm of shadows, five shall emerge, each carrying the sacred gifts bestowed by their foremothers. As they step into the light, the echoes of time will guide their way, revealing what once was lost. The Exiled, weary and burdened, shall embark on a perilous quest to restore honor for the Halls. Yet, a cautionary whisper resonates: tread carefully in the presence of the Forsaken. If the sisters falter, a torrent of great evil will engulf the realms, casting them into an eternal night."
-Prophecy of the Valkyrie
Glossary of Common Terms
This book includes some words in Old Norse, Swedish, Norwegian, and Icelandic, the languages of the Nothern people whose beliefs, myths, and stories are woven throughout this series. Some of the those commonly used throughout the series can be found below.
ja - Yes/Yeah
nei – no
lyststål – lightsword
Magn – Source of Fae power. Literally, power or force.
ímun-laukr – sword
Álfheimr – home of the Fae
helvete - hell
skíta - shit
faen - fuck
níðingr – insult meaning cowardly, dishonorable person
eselballer – donkey balls
ást-meer - sweetheart
hjartað mitt - my heart
solsken - sunshine
ljós – light
elskan-ljós - Beloved light
bittesmå ljós - tiny light
lyseste ljós – brightest
konung-ligr - royal
konunga-kyn - royal kin
helveteshundar- hellhounds
varulv – werewolf/wolf
Alt du gjør er gjort i kjærlighet – Everyone you do, you do in love.
Du er i min verden – You are my world.
Hundre riker ville være for få til å inneholde min kjærlighet til deg – A hundred kingdoms aren't enough to contain my love for you.
Chapter One
Reaper
Ahowl rips through the destroyed house, the scent of spilled blood strong as I cross from room to room, carefully checking for any Forsaken fortunate enough to have escaped Rissa's deadly blast of power. The shuddering stillness is a sharp counterpoint to the fiery blast of fury that swept through the house not even ten minutes ago, decimating every Forsaken in its path.
The Valkyrie is powerful.
Perhaps our enemies should have considered that before they murdered the girl's father. But they didn't.
By the time we arrived to rescue her, there was no need. She'd already sent them scurrying like roaches running from the light. Those not quick enough died where they stood, engulfed in the hot rush of pure Light shooting from her hands.
They haven't felt anything like it since the last Valkyrie fell three hundred years ago, taking hope with them. Hope rises again now. I hope it has the Forsaken shitting their shorts, as the humans say. They certainly should be.
The Valkyrie we've been waiting for since the portal fell and we were trapped on earth are coming into their power. Rissa is the first, but she won't be the last. Four more are still yet to be called, spun out by prophecy to stand against the Forsaken and the Dark. Destined to restore Valhalla.
The Fae will stand with them as we always have.
Personally, I look forward to dealing death to our enemies once more. They've whispered my name—Reaper—in awe and fear for millennia, calling me a harvester of souls. The Dark fears me as they should. I have no sympathy for evil and no mercy, either. I smother the shadow indiscriminately, exactly as I was born to do.
It's a nasty job, but someone has to do it. It might as well be me. The Fae are immortal. Living forever gets boring without something to break up the monotony. Murder and mayhem will do in a pinch. Especially when it's the Forsaken at the business end of my lyststål.
The weapon hangs heavy in my hands now, eager to taste the blood of our enemies as I pace through the dirty old house. Despite the victory we won here today, the bitter taste of foreboding coats my tongue. Something isn't right here—and I'm not referring to the stench of alcohol permeating every inch of the place. I feel unsettled, a sense of unease whispering up my spine that I can't shake.
My footfalls echo eerily in the hollow silence of the dirty hall. My brothers spread throughout the house, checking it over as I do. We move quickly, efficiently, a well-oiled machine after millennia of fighting side by side. If they feel what I do, they don't comment on it.
The bedroom I step into is filthy, but vacant. The bed is unmade, the sheets stained and wrinkled. Papers and clothes are scattered across the floor. The windows are grimy, blocking out most of the sunlight. Peeling wallpaper covers the nicotine-stained walls. A strong odor of mildew lingers, along with the faint scent of rotting food and unwashed clothes. It's suffocating, like breathing in old, stale air.
How does anyone live this way?
I scan the room only long enough to ensure it's vacant before stepping out.
Malachi steps out of the bedroom across the hall, his nose wrinkled in disgust. His easy smile is nowhere to be found as his blue eyes meet mine, his umber skin gleaming under the overhead lights. "How does anyone live this way?" he growls.
I shrug, not having an answer for him. Rissa's father pumped his body full of poison, drowning himself in alcohol. He wasn't a good man, nor was he one deserving of sympathy. He killed her mother—his own mate. Some sins are unforgivable to the Fae. If the miserable bastard spent his life smelling his own filth, it was more than he deserved.
The Valkyrie, Rissa, loved him, though. At least enough to believe him worthy of rescue. She tried, even if she ultimately failed. My loyalty is to her. My heart pulses with empathy for her. She saw something worth saving in her father. Being back here and facing the past can't be easy for her, yet she came anyway.
Malachi and I stride toward the cracked door at the end of the hall together. The closer we get, the louder my heart hammers. The sense of foreboding grows stronger. I glance at Malachi, but if he feels the same, no trace of it shows on his face. He says nothing, either.
I reach the door first and gently push it open with the toe of my boot, a tingle of anticipation running down my spine.
The bathroom, like the rest of the house, is filthy. Cold water fills a small tub, the figure of a woman half-submerged within. Ropes bind her hands and feet. Her petite, curvy frame barely disturbs the surface of the water, yet her blonde hair floats across it like strands of gold.
She's pale and completely still. But shallow breaths mist the air, letting me know she's alive.
My amber eyes scan her form, my protective instincts screaming to life at the sight of her unconscious and vulnerable like this, her soaked nightgown translucent and clinging to her curves. She's young, fragile. Afraid. Gods, so afraid.
Even unconscious, fear contorts her expression.
A pang rips through my heart at the sight of this beautiful little human caught in such horror.
Unable to stop myself, I reach out, gently touchi ng her cheek. Her skin is ice-cold but soft under my calloused hand. Her eyes flutter open.
For a moment, the world gets sucked away in a maelstrom of startling, sapphire blue. When it clears, I'm not standing in front of the bathtub staring down at a fragile, gorgeous little human. I'm in the bathtub, staring up at a fierce, amber-eyed giant.
Everything she feels—cold, terror, confusion, pain, and the first fragile rays of hope—blow through me like a bomb blast, igniting a firestorm inside of me. They rip me wide open, unmaking me from the inside out.
Everything in me contorts and shifts, vibrating rapidly in response.
I lose control of my power, the Light of my lyststål winking out.
"Help me," she cries. "Please, help me."
The words never leave her lips, though. She speaks them directly to my soul. In that moment, I understand two things: This fragile little thing isn't human. And I belong to her.
I'm no longer simply Reaper, warrior of the Fae. I'm hers, in every way a Fae can belong to a Valkyrie. And she is a Valkyrie. I feel her Light flickering like a thousand suns as she brands my soul, binding it to hers without even understanding what she's done.
And then she falls limp again, dragged under by whatever drug and whatever horrors the Forsaken have visited upon her.
I sway, coming back to myself with a jolt that rattles my bones.
"Helvete," Malachi breathes from the doorway. "Is she…Valkyrie?"A fierce growl vibrates from my chest as I fall to my knees beside the tub, lifting her out of the cold water. The chill of her skin seeps into me as I pull her onto my lap, wrapping my body around hers protectively.
"I'm here, Valkyrie," I murmur in her ear, working frantically to undo the ropes binding her hands. "I'm here. You're safe."
My breath catches as a shiver runs down her spine, a sudden convulsion taking hold of her frigid body. Her eyes flutter open and closed, their vibrant hue barely visible beneath the thick veil of her lashes.
"Malachi," I bark out without turning, knowing he lurks in the doorway. "She's freezing."
His heavy footfalls sound against the floorboards as he approaches. But before he can cross the threshold to offer aid, a surge of territorial instinct sends an animalistic snarl rumbling from my chest.
"Easy, Reaper." He retreats hastily. "I'm not going to harm her." There's no anger or resentment in his voice; he knows better than to challenge the bond's primal instinct to protect. We can no more control it than we can control the sun.
"I'm here," I murmur into my Valkyrie's ear as another shiver rips through her, my voice a soft whisper meant to soothe her. I brush my hand over her hair in gentle motions, trying to chase away the demons clawing at her fragile consciousness. "You're safe…" The words taste bittersweet on my tongue, but they're a promise I intend to keep. It doesn't matter what fate demands of her or what prophecy expects of her, she will be safe.
"We need blankets." I don't look up to see if Malachi hears me, but a second later, the floorboards vibrate as he retreats down the hall.
"Uh, Damrion?" he shouts a moment later. "We have a situation!"
Nei, this isn't a situation. This is salvation.
We've found our second Valkyrie. Only three more to go until we have the five meant to defeat the Forsaken and restore Valhalla.
"What kind of situation?" Damrion calls back.
"A woman tied up in the bathtub and Reaper not letting anyone close kind of situation," he says. "I think she's Valkyrie."
Footsteps thunder up the steps. I ignore them, working diligently to untie the little Valkyrie in my arms. By the time Damrion, Dax, and Malachi appear at the door, crammed together shoulder-to-shoulder, I've gotten the ropes off her wrists, revealing the ugly burns beneath.
Murderous fury churns in my stomach at the sight of them. The Forsaken hurt her. It's a good thing Rissa already destroyed them. They died far easier under her Light than they would have by my hand.
"Helvete," Damrion growls, peering down at us. He moves as if he's going to step into the bathroom with us.
A fierce growl escapes my throat, warning him in a language beyond words. He may be the only surviving royal the Fae have left, but this Valkyrie is mine to safeguard, chosen by the very Norns themselves. No one is getting close, not even Damrion. "She is afraid," I growl. "Stay back."
"Reaper." Damrion speaks calmly, though I see a glint of surprise flash through his eyes. He raises empty hands in surrender. "I intend no harm, but we need to leave before the police find us here. Let me help you with her."
Ordinarily, I'm happy to taunt the human authorities. It keeps life interesting, and I've gotten good at finding ways to do that over the centuries. But allowing them to find us here will complicate an already delicate situation. We're able to redirect their thoughts and even compel humans to forget they saw us, but there are limits to what we can do. The strongest aren't as easily swayed. They come away with far more memories intact than we'd prefer, but we can't—and won't—bend them to our wills.
Yet there's an instinctual part of me, primal and protective, that responds with a silent snarl anyway, amber eyes flashing dangerously. I don't care if he is our leader. He isn't putting his hands on my mate, not if he wants to keep them.
Tension radiates from our brothers as they watch us with unreadable expressions.
"Perhaps we should let Reaper care for her while we ensure the path is clear," Dax suggests quietly. "There are still varulv lurking around out there." If anyone understands the primal, possessive need coursing through me, it's him. He's the only other Fae in history to be soul-bound to a Valkyrie. Until him and Rissa, we didn't even know it was possible for a Fae to bond with a Valkyrie.
For millennia, our oath of allegiance to Valhalla ensured no single Valkyrie would ever be able to call our souls. But with the portal to Valhalla closed, I suppose our oath no longer holds. Rissa called Dax's soul, and now this little Valkyrie has called mine. Either the Gods believe they need a Fae to guard their souls against the Dark, or the Gods believe we need a Valkyrie to protect ours.
Damrion turns his gold eyes on Dax, regarding him silently. After a moment, he nods before looking at me again. "I meant no offense, brother," he says, his voice soft. "Take care of your Valkyrie." He steps out of the bathroom, leaving an unobstructed path for me and the Valkyrie in my arms.
In his retreat, I catch sight of Adriel lurking further down the hallway, his back against a faded wall and one black eye fixed on Damrion. The harsh light casts heavy shadows over his scarred face but fails to dim the fiery longing burning in his gaze.
"I'll cover your back," he mutters, his expression going blank when he sees me looking at him.
I turn my attention back to the Valkyrie stirring weakly in my arms, setting to work on the ropes lashing her ankles together as my brothers murmur back and forth about the best way to get everyone out of here safely,
My heart clenches at the sight of her pallor beneath the harsh incandescent light. How long was she in that water? We need to get her to Letty, the healer at Eitr, our stronghold in the mountains, to ensure she's healthy. If Eitr still stands by the time we arrive.
The town is currently under attack by the Forsaken and the varulv, their hellhounds. They desperately want to get their hands on Abigail, the powerful young Seer who sees far more than the Dark would like. But if wishes were wings they could fly straight to Helheim with them. They aren't getting her.
The ropes around the Valkyrie's ankles finally come free. I toss them on the floor, scowling at the sight of the marks they left on her porcelain skin, and then lift her, rising to my feet.
"Malachi and I will go out first," Damrion says, his gold eyes meeting mine. "You, Rissa, and Dax will follow. Adriel will watch our backs."
I nod, dropping my gaze back to the girl in my arms.
"You're safe now, little Valkyrie," I tell her softly. "I swear, we'll get you out of here safely."
She stirs slightly in my arms. Her eyes remain closed, but her lips part as she takes a shuddering breath. It's a small semblance of life, a tiny sign that maybe she hears me and understands on an instinctive level that I mean her no harm. Gods, I hope she knows it.
The thought of her being afraid of me burns like acid.
