“Nothing, I just meant . . .”
“Whatever you meant, keep it to yourself, okay?” Her voice cracked and she tried to cover it with a cough. He wasn’t fooled.
Her hands fidgeted with the weapons at her side, skimming over the daggers and the hammer. Before he thought about what he was doing, his hand reached out and took hers. She didn’t pull away. Her fingers trembled as he stepped towards her.
“You don’t have to do this.” When she met his gaze, her mask slipped just enough to reveal the vulnerability and fear in her copper eyes. She swallowed, her breaths coming faster.
“I don’t even know if I can,” she whispered. Westley’s heart stuttered with her confession.
“You absolutely can. I said you didn’thaveto.” He gave her a small smile. She looked down, her hands starting to shake, and he squeezed a bit tighter.
“If I go in there and I don’t stop it, I’m no better than the monsters who took me,” she confessed. Westley’s gut twisted and wished he could erase every moment of pain she’d ever experienced.
“It’s not the same,” he insisted.
When her eyes flashed to him, tears gathered there.
“How is it any different?”
“For one, you are not a sadist—you’re not finding pleasure in this. Second, you offered the mortal an alliance—to work with him. You didn’t ask your questions and go straight to torture when he didn’t answer. You treated him with respect.” She turned her face away again, but he put his other hand under her chin and gently guided her to meet his gaze.
Her skin was soft beneath his touch.
“Third, you are not hiding from him. He knows who you are, he has seen your face. The ones who captured you were cowards. You are anything but a coward, Solveig,” he told her fiercely, willing her to believe the words as much as he meant them. Something flickered across Solveig’s face before he had time to decipher it.
She took a breath, inhaling deeply, composing her features. When she let the air out, her face was set in determination. Westley smiled as he dropped both of his hands, flexing them at his sides when the feel of her lingered, the current that always ran between them humming under his skin.
He gestured in front of her. “After you, General.”
“Thank you, Your Highness,” she said haughtily. He chuckled at her teasing tone and fell into step behind her, almost walking into her when she stopped abruptly.
She whispered a soft, “Thank you.”
Westley reached out to hold her again, but she walked forward, her back straightening, strides full of purpose. He dropped his hand and followed her to the dungeon. She didn’t hesitate at the door, throwing it open and waltzing inside.
Despitenotknowingwhatshe would find when she entered the dungeon, Solveig didn’t give herself a chance to back down. She strode right in, the prince behind her lending her an odd sensation of safety. His words had given her strength.
He was right—she was no coward.
“What the Hel is going on here?” Solveig asked, voice laced with venom as she walked in to find John completely naked and hanging by his ankles from the ceiling. She tried without success to block the vision of herself in that same position.
She blinked the image away as fast as she could, though it hovered at the edges of her mind.
“I’m allowing you to be here but not to touch the prisoner,” Latham hissed. She ignored him, going straight to the mortal.
“Prince, help me get him down.”
If he was surprised at her request, he didn’t show it. He stood on the mortal’s other side and helped her lift him off the hooks. Lathamstepped forward to stop them, but Solveig growled at him. He backed off immediately. When she returned to her task, the prince was trying to smother a smile.
“What?” she whispered as they set the mortal on the ground.
There was a gleam in his eye. “That sound was positively Fae.”
Solveig whipped off the loose white tunic she wore for training and pulled it over the mortal’s head, leaving her in only the tight band across her chest. Cool air was a balm to her heated, sweaty skin.
The prince’s eyes dragged up her torso and she rolled her eyes when he got to her face, signalling to him that she caught it.
They propped John up against the wall and Solveig barked out an order for the guard to get water. He moved immediately, returning in moments with a small cup. Solveig stared at him hard and he scurried to get a large jug. Solveig dumped it over John’s head to rouse him.
