“Solveig,” the prince said quietly.
She didn’t look at him. “What?”
“I bet I can kill more mortals than you.” That broke Solveig out of her spiral of dark thoughts, and she huffed.
“You wish.” She still didn’t look at him, but some of the tension in her body dissipated.
“Neither of you are going to kill anything if you don’t pay attention,” Noren hissed from behind them.
“Yes, father,” Solveig snapped back, and the prince choked on a laugh, causing several heads to turn towards them. They quickly glancedaway from the glare he levelled back. His face broke into a smile as soon as no one was paying attention to them.
They listened to the end of Latham’s hypocritical speech about honour and courage and the element of surprise. Solveig would ride with the Fae at the back of the group. They would branch off and enter the mortal village from the south side. Latham and Maddock would each lead a group, and all three would converge on the town at once from different directions.
“May Tyr guide our swords and may Vidarr grant us the vengeance we so rightfully deserve!” Latham yelled to the heavens, and the war cry of her people rang through the crowd as they lifted their swords in the air.
Solveig could not bring herself to join them.
Her eyes caught Sten’s from across the crowd where he stood with those who were seeing their soldiers off. His eyes were wide and scared, growing paler. The blood drained from his face. Sten tried to make his way towards her, but their troops were already on the move, and she couldn’t backtrack without drawing suspicion.
Whatever he had to say was lost as they moved towards the gate. When she tried to find him, he was gone. Solveig’s stomach twisted into knots.
Fates save them all.
Silentasthenight,they rode through the forest. Westley tried not to read into the eerie quiet as they travelled, but something nagged at the back of his mind.
The forest was too silent.
No scurrying animal sounds or bird calls. The lack of the usual prowling beasts was even more unnerving. Pine needles cushioned the sound of the horses’ hooves so even their battalion sounded more like a gusting wind than a troop marching into battle.
Solveig rode ahead of him, her auburn hair held in place with a series of braids. His heart jumped every time he caught a glimpse of her. Something was wrong.
Westley was almost certain she was avoiding him. He’d tried to ask her at the beginning of their journey, but she’d evaded him rather quickly, pulling ahead to ride with the same sentinels who had spied on him in the forest.
Her shieldmaidens.
“You alright?” Noren asked quietly.
He shook his head. “Something isn’t right.”
“I feel it too,” he said.
He pulled Njord forward, hoping to get a chance to speak with Solveig, but she moved ahead like she sensed him coming. Her shoulders were tense and one hand lay on the weapon at her side. Westley thought it was a dagger until he looked closer and discovered it was the hammer. He finally caught up to her.
“If I didn’t know any better, General, I’d say you were avoiding me,” he accused, voice barely above a whisper.
“You clearly don’t know better if you thought I was avoiding you and still approached me,” she whispered back, her eyes darting to the trees surrounding them.
“You feel it too, don’t you?”
“Yes.” As if on cue, Helle tossed her head in agitation and Njord responded in kind. “Helle is never twitchy.” They rode on in silence for a while, unease gathering in the air as storm clouds rolled in.
“Perfect, just what we need.” Westley sighed.
Solveig tilted her head to the sky and a smile touched her lips. Westley couldn’t help but take in the line of her neck. A small tattoo peeked out behind her hair and his hand itched to brush the strands out of the way so he could see it properly.
Raindrops fell on her skin, her face losing some of its tension as she breathed in the stormy air.
One of the drops smeared the kohl she’d drawn on her face, leaving a watery black streak. Westley was mesmerized by each raindrop, jealous of their soft caresses on her skin.
