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“It’s another warm night,” I say, holding my palms out to feel the night air. The energy of this city tingles in my veins and feeds my magic like nothing I’ve ever felt before. And as each passing day takes me farther from the spell that bound my emotions and kept me afraid to venture out… I find I feel more and more like the woman I am meant to be.
“Aye, we get hot spells like this from time to time. It’ll pass, though. It always does.”
We walk the path, which is a thin strip of grass separating the pier from the street, sparsely dotted with trees, a mix of strong, old trunks and spindly saplings that don’t look like they’ll survive the next storm that rolls through.
Some rain would be nice right about now.
The humidity hangs heavy, even though the sun retired an hour ago. It leaves me panting and sweating before the halfway mark, but I refuse to go back early and return to my room at Elysian before I have to.
The so-called park may not be much to look at, but the view of the water makes up for it. Especially the long, three-story steamboat that sits docked for the night.
Rune and Fintan give me space, walking just behind me. They could stay five blocks behind and still not lose track of me. I try not to think about the fact that I’m a prisoner and go back to pretending that I’m not.
Wandering down to the bank of the river, I slip off my shoes and socks to dip my toe in. The cool water feels good, and I take a few steps further until I’m standing up to my shins in the Mississippi River.
I inhale a deep breath and tip my head back to look at the darkening sky, focusing on the meditative rhythm of the water lapping at the river’s edge and brushing over the rocks and pebbles.
When my grandmother began my magic lessons when I turned thirteen, she had me meditate every day for a year. I spent an entire year doing nothing but finding my ‘inner peace’.
I hated it, but I’ve meditated a lot more lately. There is only so much I can do sitting in a big, empty room all day. It’s nice to zone out and escape for a bit—even if it is only in my mind.
“Told ya hanging out with me would be better than sitting and stewing in your room all night,” Rune says, the water rippling as he wades over to stand next to me, soaking the bottoms of his jeans and making the denim cling to his meaty calves.
“You seem like the type to let the phrase ‘you were right’ inflate your ego, so I’m opting to not say anything.”
He chuckles and mimes his head exploding, sound effects and all which gets me going too, our combined laughter trailing off as we watch a tugboat sail by.
After a few minutes of serene silence, my gaze slips from the darkening surface of the river to Rune. His thick brow is furrowed, and I wonder what he’s thinking about as he stares out Algiers Point.
“Do you believe in soulmates?” Rune asks without taking his eyes off the horizon.
The question catches me so off guard I choke on air. “What… you mean like there’s only one person out there that I’m destined to be with? No, I don’t.”
His bright hazel gaze holds mine for a long moment before he nods. “Vikings have this belief… have you ever heard the term fylgja?”
I shake my head.
“A Viking’s fylgja is a spirit. It remains with us from the moment we take our first breath in this world until we take our last. We are tied together in every sense of the word.”
“So, you believe in the concept of soulmates, then.”
“Our soulmates are said to be a perfect complement to our fylgja, and when together, they would create a powerful bond that could withstand any challenge.”
“It sounds like a beautiful connection and all, but… I’m not really following,” I admit.
Rune reaches inside the collar of his shirt and pulls out a black cord tied around his neck. I lean forward for a better look at the design etched into the polished silver medallion.
“The interlocking circles represent the enduring love between two soulmates, and the smaller circle in the middle is the fylgja. It’s a symbol that brings good luck and protection to its wearer.”
“Neat.”
Rune tucks the necklace away, patting it gently when it rests beneath the fabric of his shirt once more. When he lowers his hand again, he reaches out and gently brushes his fingers against mine, sending a thrill through me at the contact. I open my hand to him, and he slides into place, a subtle surge of warmth spreading through my entire being.
“It’s not just a mere attraction I feel towards you, Josephine,” he says, his voice low and tender. “It’s as if our souls recognize each other, as if they have known each other for eternity.”
I glance up from our interlocked hands and meet the sincerity in his hazel gaze. He blinks at me expectantly, waiting for me to either confirm his feelings or dash his hopes.
I can’t do either.
