Dragonslayer’s Valkyrie: Coffee Pot Book Club Blog Tour
Last of the Völsung line of kings descended from Odin, Sigurd is one of the elite Sjórúlfar—the fearsome Sea Wolves of southern Norway. Endowed with the divine blood of the wolf, he seeks glory at the Sólhjarta Summer Solstice Tournament to avenge his father’s death.
Brynhildr, daughter of the Raven King, is the Sun Falcon shieldmaiden and gifted seeress who has glimpsed her fate as a Valkyrie in a seiðr vision. When her father decrees she must wed the tournament’s champion, she summons Freyja for guidance—only to learn her future is bound to Sigurd.
As the Norns tighten the intricate threads of fate, Brynhildr must guide Sigurd toward his destiny as a dragonslayer—by defying the web of wyrd and incurring the wrath of Odin.
Book Trailer:
Excerpt 3:
The Sólhjarta Tournament
As the setting sun lit the evening sky and glistening fjord with brilliant shades of crimson fire, Brynhildr’s gaze wandered to the drakkar ship whose fierce blue dragon prow was etched with snarling silver wolves.
That is his ship. The fearsome warrior known as Sigurd Sea Wolf.
He’d caught her attention the very first day of the competition, for not only did he stand half a head taller than all the other warriors, his blue grey wolfskin cloak, shimmering in the summer sun, had given him the otherworldly air of a god. Deep blue gems glittered in his braided blond hair, pulled back from his rugged face and tied with leather at the nape of his corded neck. Lapis lazuli stones glinted in his golden beard, braided like his long thick hair. As Brynhildr had sat beside her faðir on the elevated dais to watch the competition, a sizzle of seiðr had shivered up her spine when he’d removed his wolfskin cloak and tunic.
Dark blond hair and blue tattoos covered his rippled chest, and for the first time in her entire life, Brynhildr had shared Astrid’s fascination for the spear-throwing event.
Even his spear had caught her attention.
The pale wood of his impressive weapon had been painted with blue swirling waves and silver snarling wolves, like his magnificent drakkar longship. And when he’d hurled the spear farther than any other competitor, a thrill of triumph had coursed through her veins, as if she had thrown the weapon herself.
That night, at the feast, her searching gaze had found him seated among the Sjórúlfar, the firelight in her faðir’s royal hall wreathing Sigurd’s wolfskin cloak in shimmery sapphire. He’d pierced her with fierce lupine eyes and seared her soul with a scorching smile.
All week long, she’d watched him. He ran more swiftly and swam more surely than the other warriors, as if he were indeed a Sea Wolf. Tonight, at the feast, her faðir would present gifts to the ten competitors—including Sigurd from Sjóborg—who had won the preliminary trials and would therefore advance to the next round of events in the Summer Solstice Tournament.
There would be a thrilling competition of three skálds, each vying for the prestigious title of Skáld of the Sólhjarta Tournament.
And after the bountiful feast, guests would dance around a bonfire beneath the stars.
Brynhildr’s legs trembled under her silk gown at the thought of being in the Sea Wolf’s arms.
If just looking at him sends shivers of seiðr up my spine, what will it be like to touch him?
A shudder of anticipation shook her whole body.
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