“You really think me capable of that magnitude of treachery? To condemn an entire world? To lose my magic in the process?”
“You have your magic.”
“So do you.”
They’d been stepping closer to each other during the exchange. Her chin tilted up to meet his gaze, her chest brushing against his. The pulse of their magic connected them. If her heart wasn’t beating out of her chest she could’ve sworn the flash of emotion that crossed his face echoed in her mind.
Anguish.
They stared at each other, neither backing down. When his gaze flicked to her lips, her body responded. She tried to ignore the sudden, warm flow of blood gathering between her thighs, her breasts aching for more contact.
He bared his teeth, his tongue flicking out to graze his sharp canines. She tracked the movement, resisting the tenable pull to close the distance between them. To taste that tongue on hers—to feel it on her skin, between her legs.
It had been bad enough when his back was against hers, guiding her movements as he taught her how to use her bow properly. She’d wondered if he had this kind of hands-on approach with all his students, and that thought made her blood simmer.
But now that they were face to face, the pull was stronger and more difficult to resist. Her body remembered how he felt pressed against her, driving her mad with need.
The fact remained that he had his secrets and so did she. Solveig forced herself to take a step back.
“We’re wasting time. We have to go,” she said quietly as she started walking away from him. She heard a soft “fuck” from behind her as his steps followed hers, and she was glad he couldn’t see the small smile that quirked the corner of her mouth.
They picked up their pace and were at the back of the crowd within minutes. Maddock and Latham stood on the raised training ring, addressing the clan.
“These mortals have taken everything from us! It’s time we stop running and start fighting back!” Latham yelled over the crowd. A chorus of cheers swelled around them. The Fae stood separate from the Vanir, whispering to each other.
Solveig and the prince shared a nod before splitting in separate directions. She had to find Quillon, and he went after his companions. She briefly wondered whether the prince would tell her what the Fae were discussing.
After their little exchange, she doubted it. She couldn’t think of that now anyway.
She spotted the jarl hovering at the side of the ring, watching Latham with horror etched into his features. When he spotted her, relief slumped his shoulders. As she approached, his eye caught on the bow and arrows slung across her back and he gave her a quizzical glance.
“I was practising when Sten came to find me,” she informed him.
“Alone?” he asked suggestively. Solveig pinned him with a look and he dropped it. “I’m glad you’re here now. Please make him see sense.” He gestured towards Latham.
“I don’t think I have that ability anymore. I’m not sure I ever did.”
“You’re the only one who could get through to him.”
Before Solveig could respond, Latham’s voice carried over them.
“For too long, we have been ruled by cowardly leadership, fleeing whenever the mortals got too close! No more!” he yelled.
Solveig bristled, blood rushing to her face as her magic flared to life at the insult. Quillon’s outrage matched her own. He had always backed Solveig’s decision to move camp when the mortals caught their trail.It shouldn’t have surprised her that Latham thought this way—he had always tried to convince her to fight rather than flee.
But Solveig’s pride wasn’t strong enough to corrupt her judgement.
The mortals were stronger than they were, and retreat was necessary for survival. It had been difficult in recent years to convince the council to side with her. She understood—for so long, their race had not been one to flee. They wanted to fight, not with strategy but with their weapons and their hands. She couldn’t fault them for that.
However, it was a death sentence to blatantly attack the mortals.
“All those willing and able to fight, gather your weapons and say your goodbyes! We ride at dusk!” Latham yelled.
There was a mad dash as the crowd dispersed, everyone going off to prepare for battle.
SolveigandQuillonfoughttheir way through the crowd to get to Latham and Maddock. They reached the raised platform at the same time as the prince, Conalle, and Noren.
“Latham!” she shouted. He heard her but did not respond.
