Mindwhollyfocusedongetting back to camp and stopping Latham from executing this unbelievably horrible idea, Solveig raced through the forest. Sten tried to keep up with her and the prince but he was falling behind with each long stride. She had to slow down so she could question him.
They needed to know what they were getting themselves into.
Sten told her of Latham rousing the clan into a blind fury against the mortals, coaxing them to act like the heathens the world believed the Vanir to be—to raise their torches and pitchforks in the air and storm the village as soon as possible. Sten didn’t know if there had been any strategic planning for this attack, only that Latham and Maddock had been discussing it in letters for weeks.
Latham had been waiting for the commander to arrive before making any sort of move.
“Is this what you were warning me about?” she asked Sten, ignoring the confusion on the prince’s face.
Though she may have warmed to him, there were secrets she would never tell, and he had them too. Anyone who’d lived as long as they had—as well as led armies in a world war—didn’t have enough wardrobe space for all their secrets.
“I don’t know,” Sten said quietly, eyeing the prince. Solveig gave a slight shake of her head, warning him not to say anything. He got the message and fell silent.
The prince caught their exchange but didn’t ask any questions—Solveig was grateful he at least knew her well enough to know it was not the time to push.
Latham was signing their death warrants. From the fifty years of raids, they learned the mortals had access to some sort of magic. Not the same as the Trifold magic, but somethingother.
Their previous raids had taken months of planning, scouting, and strategy before even attempting to execute them. From the moment a raid ended to when the next one began, they planned. Even if Latham was making a huge mistake, she hoped he had at least thought it through or spoken with their council.
Jarl Bjornson would’ve made the danger known and advised on the precautions they needed to take. She had to trust that Latham had some common sense left.
The dread pooling in her stomach told her he didn’t.
All three of them reached the edge of camp and Solveig gestured at Sten to leave. She didn’t want him anywhere near this. He understood and snuck around to one of the secret entrances. Alone with the prince again, she took a deep breath before starting for the gates.
“Care to share what that was about?” he asked as they ran side by side through the opening gates, rushing to get to the loud crowd in the middle of camp. The guards bowed their heads to her as she passed through.
“Solveig,” he said sternly when she didn’t answer. She stopped running at his tone and serious face, drawing herself up to match his challenge. War prince versus war general.
“You are neither entitled nor privileged to that information, Your Highness.”
His eyes narrowed. “I have people at risk here, General Tordottir. Iamentitled to this information. Tell me.”
“The only information you are entitled to is that which I deem you worthy of.”
He flinched like she had struck him. She held no remorse. If he was going to behave like an ass, she would treat him accordingly. He collected himself quickly and his face softened.
“We’re on the same team here, Solveig. I can help.”
“We’re not. You’re fighting for Idavoll and I’m fighting for Vanaheim and Asgard.”
“Aren’t they on the same side?”
“Not when one sends their prince to spy on the other, gathering information and accusing their leaders of treason,” she said sharply.
“I never accused you.”
“Not yet.”
Energy built between them at their standoff. Solveig couldn’t help the twitch in her hand when she thought about possibly stabbing him again if he said the wrong thing.
The prince scanned her face, looking for what? She didn’t know.
“Do I need to?”
“What are you asking me, Prince?”
“You know what I’m asking.”
