Her head no longer spun, and strength was seeping back into her muscles. Sten was still standing off to the side, shifting nervously from foot to foot, looking between Solveig and the two males.
“I’ll find you later, General Tordottir.”
Before she could protest, he darted through the tent opening and was gone by the time Solveig ran out to follow him. She knew better than to chase after him.
“Well, that was odd,” said the prince, who had followed her outside.
“It was.” She was worried about what Sten needed to tell her, but the prince was watching her.
“So, what now, General?” he asked, leaning casually against a tree stump meant for tying horses.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, we have about three weeks until you need to leave for Asgard. I’m assuming that, although you said you don’t want revenge, you’re champing at the bit to tear Latham a new one. As much as I would take pleasure in watching you direct your delicious viciousness at him, I don’t think it’s wise.”
She ignored the compliment. “And what do you think I should do with all my free time?”
“I think we should train.”
“Together?”
“Ideally, yes.”
“Why is that ideal?”
“Were you at the same battle as I was, General?”
She didn’t bother to respond, looking expectantly at him.
“Our fighting styles complement each other. Even without training, it was like ... Well, it was as if we instinctively moved with each other.” When she still didn’t respond, his eyes darted to his feet and back up, a little self-conscious. “Didn’t you feel that too?”
She let him sweat for a few seconds and then sighed. “Yes, I did.”
“You’re an asshole,” he said, glaring at her.
“That’s my line, Prince.”
“So what do you think?”
“I hate to admit you’re right, but it makes sense. Plus, if I can’t unleash my wrath on Latham, you’re the next best thing.”
He scoffed. “I’m the first best thing.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
He shrugged. “You reek. Go clean up and meet me by the gates. We’ll go to your super-secret, private training ring.”
“Forgive me, Your Highness, for smelling like the blood of our enemies.”
“You’re forgiven.”
Solveig let out a huff. “I wouldn’t have needed to take down so many if I wasn’t saving your sorry ass the whole time.” She walked away from him and turned on her heel, throwing her arms out wide. “That’s why you’re suggesting the training—you need my help,” she said, still walking backwards.
She didn’t give him a chance to reply before heading to her tent. But not because he told her to. Though she didn’t want to admit he was right again, she did stink. It was going to feel so good sinking into that bathtub.
Her bath healed and rejuvenated her spirit. The only thing missing was a warm, hearty meal, and once her belly was full, she may even go so far as to say she’d have a spring in her step.
It certainly had nothing to do with the burgeoning anticipation of training with Wes—the prince.The prince. The prince. The prince.
