Iron Seas 03 - Riveted

them.
    He stood, lifted his gaze to the sky. His eye closed, and another long breath filled his chest. Twenty years, and a promise finally fulfilled. She couldn’t imagine how much less he must weigh.
    His gaze found hers, then. His hand cupped her cheek. “I had a lot to say—not least of all, thanking her for leading me to you.”
    Oh. Annika’s vision blurred. She turned her head, pressed a kiss against his palm. “I’m grateful for that, too.”
    His arms came around her, drew her in against him. She held him tight, loving his strength, his gentleness, his warmth. His chest rose on another shuddering breath—release, she thought. His hand smoothed up her spine.
    “Is that Hannasvik?”
    She glanced over her shoulder, following his gaze. From this distance, the lake was a glint in the sun, but he could likely see the rounded earthen houses, the fences, the trolls. “Yes.”
    “Can they see us up here?”
    “Not without a spyglass. But they knew we were coming, so they might look—and my clothes are difficult to not see.” A crimson trouser and lime-green jacket, the sleeves lined with blue bows. Annika grinned when he laughed, nodding. She reached into the small pocket at her waist. “The women have somethingfor you, and I want to give it before we leave this place. Lower your head.”
    After giving her a quizzical look, he did. Annika raised her arms, slipped the runes over his neck. “David, son of Inga, daughter of Helga, daughter of Sigrid, daughter of Ursula, daughter of Hanna.”
    Lips parting with astonishment, he felt the beads at his throat. “There are two strands.”
    “I asked them to add the second. David, son of Stone. I didn’t know the other names, but we can carve them. I know he was important to you—”
    She didn’t finish. He caught her up, his mouth covering hers. A hard kiss, no finesse, pure emotion. He set her down again, her face cradled in his hands, his lips against hers. “I love you, Annika Fridasdottor.” It was rough, urgent. “I love you. And I thank the gods every day that a bird didn’t shit in my eye at the port gates.”
    There wasn’t enough room inside her ribs for her heart. It squeezed painfully tight as he spoke, left her without any breath.
    “I didn’t even dare look up,” she whispered. “I always felt so small. About to be crushed.”
    “And now?”
    She would stand up to anything. “I feel like I’m part of something that matters. With Hannasvik. With you.”
    “And without you, nothing matters at all,” he said gruffly, and his lips met hers for another long kiss. Annika clung to him, smiling against his mouth.
    He always said the most wonderful things.
    That night, ribbons of green shimmered across the dark sky, backlit by brilliant stars. Annika almost missed seeing the lights, but an idle glance through the eye louvers sent her rushing out in her chemise and drawers, her boots unlaced, and she was throughthe chest hatch before David managed to pull on his trousers. She looked up. A moment later, David wrapped his arms around her, and the warmth of his body kept Annika from shivering.
    Pinks and blues danced through the green. With a contented sigh, she tilted her head back against his shoulder. “Does it look the same through your lenses? Or is it more beautiful?”
    “Different—and I can’t see the lights at all through some of the lenses. But when I can, they are just as beautiful.”
    “And they truly don’t know what causes it?”
    “Truly,” he confirmed, and she heard the smile in his voice. “Now tell me: When it’s no longer a mystery, when you know exactly what causes them, will you be as enchanted? Will they still be as beautiful then?”
    “Oh, yes. Even more so, I think. People are the only things that don’t always improve upon knowing what makes them up. Well, people and sausage from a manufactory.”
    His laugh rumbled against her back. “ Any meat from a manufactory.”
    “I wish someone had told me that four years ago.” She laughed with him, then settled back against his chest. “But the rest is true. Look at the sentinels guarding the New World—or a troll. Naked or covered, it’s awe-inspiring on first sight, isn’t it? But then you realize that a band of women carried salvaged equipment across an island and built the trolls with nothing more than hard work and ingenuity, and a hundred years of maintenance brought them to this point. A troll is so much more incredible, knowing that. It’s