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When Eivor went into the swamp looking for the newly deposed leader of Grantebridge, she wasn’t expecting to find someone like Soma.
A war leader, that she expected. With the bearing of one clearly accustomed to leadership, her head high and proud, her stride long and sure. She wore the axe at her hip and the shield on her back as if she were made to wield them, as if they were made for her.
What she didn’t expect was to see her looking after her men, not in the distant way of some war chiefs, but with care and concern. Eivor couldn’t hear what she said to her injured man before she set his leg, but it was clear that even as he lay there writhing in pain, that he knew her and trusted her. That kind of trust spoke well about a leader.
What Eivor did not expect was the sudden sizzle of attraction that ran across her skin and down her spine when Soma looked up to meet her gaze. Narrowed gray eyes, raven black hair pulled back from her face, sharpness in her cheek and jaw. Authority and gravitas radiated from her, and a keen intelligence that in a glance, weighed and measured her. And if the slight tilt to her lips was any indication, Soma liked what she saw too.
“You come from the fog like a Valkyrie to collect our dead, but we have none to give you,” Soma said as she rose to her feet. They were of a similar height, though Eivor had more heft and was broader of shoulder. “Who are you, stranger?”
Soma told her a story of a lost city, of the men that she had rallied but the three advisers that she had yet to find. They were her inner circle, her family in deed if not in blood.
“If we find them and retake your city, can I call you friend and ally?” Eivor asked.
Soma looked at her with challenge in her eyes and hands on her hips. “If you can do all that, you can call me anything you like.” She was serious, of that Eivor had no doubt, and there was not one hint of flirtation in her voice. If Eivor could do what she said, she would have a steadfast friend in the leader of Grantebridge. And yet Eivor had to stop herself from smiling because there was something in Soma’s eyes, an undercurrent of interest carefully hidden, her lips held flat as if she too were holding back a smile.
“Let’s get your men,” Eivor said.
Soma was as strong and capable a fighter as Eivor thought she would be, swinging her axe and shield with grace and brutal efficiency. They were of similar strength and skill, and though this was their first battle together, Eivor found it natural to fight at her side. Their rhythms matched, the way they flowed from one enemy to another, how attuned they were to changes in battle and new threats that had to be met. They fought at each other’s side, or back to back, for much of the next few days as they gathered her scattered men. And though she did not speak of it, Eivor could see the look of approval on Soma’s face. It was clear that she matched the jarlskona’s expectations, just as she had met hers.
When they found her advisers, there was relief and joy on her face when she clasped them to her, then sent them to the healer. It was clear by the looks on their faces of the loyalty and high regard they felt for her. But it was the way the four of them interacted with each other, that first night when they were all reunited and there was a small celebration in their camp, that Eivor could see just how close they were. More than advisers, more than friends, but family.
“You care for them very much,” Eivor said.
Night had fallen long ago, and the stars were bright and the moon hung high in the sky. The last of the warriors had gone to their tents, except for the sentries who stood watch. Eivor and Soma were alone by the fire.
“I do,” Soma said quietly. “I love my city, Eivor. I love its people, I love seeing how much it has grown and the prosperity it has brought. It is my home, and I will take it back from the thief that has stolen it from me.”
“You care about those three most of all,” Eivor said.
The tiniest smile on Soma’s face, but there it was again, the flash of something in her eyes. Eivor did not know when she had become attuned to the smallest changes of expression on her face, but she did not question it. There was something that troubled her.
“I do,” Soma said again. She was quiet for a long time, staring into the fire, and Eivor was comfortable in the silence. There would be a time later to ask for more.
The next day was the fight to retake Grantebridge.
It was not just another raid, not even for Eivor. She could feel it from the moment she woke, the tension and excitement in the air. The focus of the men as they prepared their bows, sharpened swords and axes, strapped shields to their backs. Soma was firmly in command, giving orders to her men and saying little to Eivor as they prepared. But when it was time to fight, when they stood before the wooden gates of her city, Eivor stood beside Soma.
“I need you at my side, today,” Soma said.
Eivor met the intensity of her gaze and nodded. “You have me, Jarlskona,” Her voice was husky. Eivor said it as one warrior to another, as one leader of men to another, but Eivor knew she was offering something more if Soma wished it. There was the hint of a smile on Soma’s lips then, understanding on her face, and she nodded quickly, tightly. They clasped arms and readied themselves for battle.
The stench of death was already in the air when battle had barely joined. Bodies hung from the gates, strewn on the floor. Not all warriors, with women and children among the dead.
Soma snarled, rage on her face. “That rat fucking bastard. He will pay for this.”
And pay they did. The Jarlskona of Grantebridge tore through her Saxon enemies with the fire and fury of a berserker, with the fighting skill of a legendary drengr, with a roar like a giant that struck fear into the hearts of men. Eivor fought at her side, fighting waves of enemies and covering her back, but in the brief moments between fighting and killing, she took a moment to admire the lord of Grantebridge. What a sight she was, to rival the very Valkyries who would come for you on your last day.
When it was over, when all of their enemy lay dead and her men raised their arms in the air, hooting and hollering their victory to the sky, Soma turned to her.
“We’ve won,” she said, breathing heavily. There was blood on her face, along with soot and sweat, but her gray eyes burned bright and her smile was wide. She was fierce and beautiful and strong, and that same frisson of desire that Eivor felt that first day was there a thousandfold. How could anyone look at her and not want her?
Eivor nodded, smiling. “We did it.”
Soma offered her the honor of blowing the war horn that signaled the end of the battle and their victory over the enemy. “I couldn’t have done this with you, Eivor. Let the breath from your lungs breathe the life back into my city.”
But Eivor shook her head. “The honor is yours, Jarlskona. Your people, your city.” She gestured to the men still celebrating, holding aloft their weapons, some of them chanting her name. “Your victory. The honor is yours,” Eivor said, bowing her head briefly in respect. When she looked up again Soma was looking at her with something like fondness on her face. She nodded then strode up to the great horn. After a deep breath, she blew long and loud, the horn’s clarion call ringing through the air. And her men cheered even louder than before.
That night they celebrated.
Soma was without her armor, wearing a leather vest and blue tunic, and more relaxed than Eivor had ever seen her. When Eivor arrived the celebration was already in full swing, with warriors hooting and hollering as Soma downed a tankard of mead in one swig. She wiped her mouth with a hand and belched, clapping the loser of the drinking contest on the shoulder, then leapt onto the table and raised her arms wide.
“Friends! Warriors! Finest men in all of England, Grantebridge is ours once again!” She bellowed as the men roared their approval. She scanned the crowd, seeming to hold the gaze of each man. “I could not ask for a finer clan, or wish to fight beside anyone else than all of you. Tomorrow we will stamp out Wigmund’s fading fires. But tonight…tonight, we feast as gods!” She tipped back her head as she roared those final words, fist pumped in the air as her men cheered, Eivor among them.
But when she stepped off the table and when the eyes of her men were not on her, Eivor could see that shift again. Something troubled and sad beneath the surface.
This time she would ask directly. She shouldered her way through the crowd until she caught Soma’s arm.
“What is wrong?” Eivor asked, raising her voice to be heard above the crowd.
Soma looked confused. “What?”
“Are you celebrating, or are you mourning? Something troubles you,” Eivor insisted. She paused, weighing her words, wanting to help but not wanting to push for more than she was willing to give. “I will not say that I have a right to know, but as a friend, as an ally, I would like to know.”
Soma shook her head, bemusement on her face. “A friend indeed. You surprise me, Eivor. You are not just a warrior who is good in battle.” She paused. “I will tell you tomorrow. In truth, it was something I had been wanting to tell you. But not tonight,” she said, shaking her head. Now her eyes shone bright again, that fierceness returned, and her grin was wide and challenging when she grabbed a pair of tankards, full of honey-sweet mead, and thrust one at her. “Tonight is for feasting. And you will show me how well you can drink.”
They drank and celebrated and cheered. Then they drank some more, and Eivor had long since lost count of how many tankards she had downed by night’s end. At some point she was sitting on a bench leaning against the wall, drunk and tired and happy, with Soma at her side. She closed her eyes for a moment, intending to rest only briefly, but when she opened them again it was clear that much more time had passed and men were passed out on the floor, snoring. It was still night, but the hour was late and the celebration clearly over.
None of this was new to Eivor, except for one important detail.
Soma was curled up at her side, sound asleep, her hand on Eivor’s chest while Eivor’s arm was slung comfortably around her shoulders. The sight of her sleeping stirred something in Eivor. Her face looked younger, softer in repose, the aura of authority and power that always followed her temporarily stowed. Seeing her like this, resting against Eivor as if she were made to be there, soft black hair curling around her face, Eivor felt the tug of something unfamiliar: the desire to hold, to protect and to care for another. That was something she only felt with one other person, someone she had no right to feel that way toward. She was also keenly aware, even after their short time together, that Soma was the last person who needed someone to protect her. But even as she called herself a fool, she looked at Soma and made no attempt to move away.
As if sensing her thoughts, Soma’s eyes fluttered open and met her gaze. They said nothing, and Eivor wondered what thoughts lay hidden behind those gray eyes.
Maybe it was the drink, though the feeling of being drunk had long since passed. Maybe it was the lateness of the hour, and they were both in that unguarded moment between sleep and wakefulness. Maybe it was simply this moment, waking up in each other’s arms unexpectedly. Whatever it was, it was Soma who finally crossed a boundary neither of them thought they would cross.
Soma reached up and put a hand to Eivor’s cheek, caressing it lightly. And then slowly, carefully, she leaned forward and placed a kiss on Eivor’s lips.
It was soft and warm, her lips tasting of the honey mead they had been drinking all night, and something else uniquely hers. Soma kissed her as if this was something she did not do lightly, as if this was something did not do without care. Soma kissed her as if she was getting to know her, truly, in a way she hadn’t before. And Eivor was content to let her explore, to return the kiss, and not give or take anything more than what was being offered. There was a pleasant simmer of desire behind the kiss, one that neither of them stoked, both content to let it simmer.
They lingered like this, and when eventually they pulled away Eivor was pleased to see a smile on Soma’s lips. It was small, yes, but softer, fuller than any she had seen on her face before.
“I wanted to do that for some time,” Soma said quietly.
“As did I,” Eivor said. She didn’t know what else to say, what else to expect. Soma was now her friend and ally, an invaluable support in this hostile land. But what would she be beyond that? Could they be lovers, when Soma’s heart belonged to Grantebridge and Eivor’s loyalty belonged to Sigurd. And Eivor’s heart, well, maybe she only had part of it to give. But that part of her wished, in that moment, to be given.
Soma would make the decision for them both. She stood up, stretching her arms overhead, and Eivor caught her gaze slipping down to admire the way her breasts filled out the leather vest before dragging her eyes back to Soma’s face. It was clear by the look on her face that she had caught Eivor, but wasn’t displeased.
She reached down a hand. “The night is still not over, so we met as well get a better sleep than we would here. Do you want to come with me?” Eivor hesitated, unsure what the invitation meant, when Soma shook her head with an amused chuckle. “To sleep, Eivor. I don’t think I have the energy to do anything else.”
Eivor nodded and took her hand. Together they went to a large room at the end of the longhouse, and Eivor murmured in pleasure at seeing the large bed covered in thick furs and several pillows. The room was decorated, with deer antlers in one corner and a few tapestries, carvings, and small paintings throughout. And weapons, definitely not decorative, on racks against the walls.
Eivor looked at Soma in silent question. “Yes, this is mine,” she said. “I assumed Wigmund would claim it, but it appears untouched.” Her lips twisted. “His death cannot come soon enough. For all the suffering and death he has brought on my people, on my city, he deserves to suffer more than the death I will give him.” But she took a breath and let that thought go.
They slipped into bed together wearing only their tunics, and though this was their first time in bed together, they quickly found a position that suited them both: Eivor with her arms wrapped around Soma, holding her from behind.
It appeared to amuse her. “Is this always how you hold the women in your bed?”
Eivor huffed out a laugh, felt Soma’s hair tickling her face. “There haven’t been that many women, and yes.”
She could feel Soma’s continued amusement, even as she felt the other woman soften in her arms and knew that sleep was coming soon.
“And you?” Eivor asked softly.
There was silence for a time, long enough that Eivor wondered whether Soma had fallen asleep. But finally she said, quietly, “No, there hasn’t been anyone in my bed in a long time.”
“Not even just to sleep?” Eivor asked, smiling. “Someone to warm your bed on a cold winter night?”
Soma rolled over to face her, amusement clear as day on her face. “No, unless you count sleeping next to my men when we are out raiding. It is not the same as having someone in my bed. And you? Are there many women falling into bed with Eivor Wolf-Kissed?”
“Not that many,” Eivor replied, thinking of Bil and their time out in the snow. She shrugged. “Pleasure freely given and received. There has been no one –” she paused for a moment, thinking of Randvi – and just as quickly turned her thoughts away. Randvi was not for her; could never be for her. “No one worth swearing an oath to.”
Soma nodded as if she understood. “And you?” Eivor asked again. Now Soma hesitated, clearly wondering if this was something she wished to share.
“There was someone once,” she said. “Years ago, when I was newly come to this land, before the city grew to what it is now. She was not a warrior, she was…” her lips curled in a smile, her eyes distant with memory. “A Saxon, a farmer. A leader of farmers, actually, who helped supply the city. We met to negotiate the terms for their crops, silver and protection in exchange for goods. She was a fierce negotiator.” Soma’s smile was bittersweet.
“What happened to her?”
“She died a few winters later,” Soma replied, her voice dull. “A fever. There was nothing anyone could do.” Eivor could hear the tightness in her voice, the grief that still lingered. She tightened her arms around Soma and rested her chin on the other woman’s head.
“I’m sorry,” she said gruffly.
“Thank you,” Soma said, allowing the embrace. Eivor didn’t know her long enough to be sure, but if she had to guess, there were precious few moments when this strong, proud woman allowed herself to receive comfort from someone else. She was honored to have Soma trust her with this.
They lay there in silence for a few moments, before Soma looked up at her said, “Well, it is time to sleep. We will have more to discuss in the morning, and more battles to come. But…thank you, Eivor. You have been a boon from the gods, and I am grateful to have you at my side.”
“And warming your bed?” Eivor asked with a raised brow and a smile.
Soma shook her head, but she was smiling too. “Yes, as we sleep in my bed.” She seemed to hesitate one more time, then leaned forward to brush another soft kiss on Eivor’s lips. Brief as it was, it was pleasant, and comfortable, and Eivor knew that if they wished it, it could be something more. Just not today.
“Goodnight, Eivor,” Soma said.
She turned around, facing away from her as Eivor’s arms wrapped around her middle. Then they slept, long and deep, until the day came.
Tomorrow, Soma would share that one of her three advisers, the closest that she had to a family, had betrayed her and must die. Tomorrow, Soma would give her a gift, a fine Blodwulf shield, one of the few things she had left of her birth family. Tomorrow, Eivor would continue the journey that brought her to Grantebridge and be one step closer to strengthening her clan’s position in this new and hostile land.
But that was for tomorrow.
Tonight, all that need concern her was the warmth of this bed and the feel of the woman in her arms. A woman that she admired, respected, and could perhaps one day, grow to love.
It would not be a bad life, Eivor thought, as she drifted into sleep.