It was no ordinary arrow—the tip wasn’t completely solid as tendrils of smoke, no, shadows, curled around it.
They had magical weapons, and clearly some sort of spell so they couldn’t die.
Dark magic.
Solveig!She heard her name in her mind just before her head spun, feeling herself start to fade. Images flashed again—a black hooded figure coming for her, the prince’s panicked face as he grabbed her before she hit the ground.
And for the second time in this village, all went black.
Solveigfeltthepainin her shoulder before anything else. She must not have been out for very long, or it would’ve started to heal. When she attempted to straighten her head, a warm band moved across her midsection, pulling her tighter.
“I have you. Hold on,” a concerned voice murmured in her ear.
Many things came clear all at once. The voice was the prince’s, the warm band was his arm, and he was straddling her from behind as they rode on a horse.
Her eyes snapped open, and upon glimpsing the copper hair, she relaxed. They were riding Helle. She tried to orient herself, but her head spun and lolled back against the prince’s chest.
“Did we all make it out?” Solveig asked, voice hoarse. She adjusted her hips and the prince let out a small cough.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he warned.
“I didn’t ask you to ride behind me,” she muttered under her breath.
“That’s an odd way of saying thank you.” His voice filled with relief.
“Did I miss the part where you saved me from getting shot with a magical arrow?” She moved her shoulder and winced. “Never mind, I must’ve imagined that.”
He chuckled. “Even half conscious, you’re still barbed.”
“What can I say, you bring out the worst in me, Prince.”
A small sigh escaped his lips. “Well, you could thank me for getting you out of the village alive. That has to be worth something.”
“I have a feeling that was Helle’s doing more than yours.” She cringed as she reached down to pat the side of Helle’s neck, her horse giving a small whinny in response. “I’m shocked she’s letting you ride her,” she said as she sat back against him. Only because she had to. Her head spun, too dizzy to sit upright.
“When I tried to put you on Njord, she threw what I can only describe as a temper tantrum.”
Solveig laughed quietly. “Looks like they don’t quite trust each other yet after all.”
“I think they’re getting there.”
“Maybe,” she said after a loaded pause.
“You obviously couldn’t ride by yourself, seeing as you were completely unconscious.”
“Again, magical arrow, Prince. Magical arrow that pierced my impenetrable Dwarven-made armour,” she slurred, her head fuzzy as though she was suffering the after-effects of too much ale.
“Your armour was made by the Dwarven?” Shock coloured his tone.
“Shit, I think that was supposed to be a secret.” Ithadbeen a secret—only the queens and Gerrie had known, as her mothers were the ones who’d sent her to Svartalfheim to have it made and Gerrie had accompanied her. She twisted in her seat to look up at him.
She hadn’t been this close to his face since he’d woken her from that nightmare. “Promise youwon’t betray me.”
He stared down at her with an intensity that was not warranted by this conversation. The rough pads of his fingers traced her jaw before he carefully cupped her face as he leaned closer, ensuring her sole focus was on him. For a moment Solveig thought he was going to kiss her, and her lips parted on an inhale.
His eyes flicked down at the movement but quickly returned to meet her glassy-eyed stare.
“I promise,” he vowed.
