Under any other circumstances, Solveig would’ve challenged anyone who dared speak for her, but she was rooted to her chair. If she moved, the contents of her stomach would be all over John, and his wounds would not appreciate the infection that would follow.
She had not been prepared for this request, nor for the fear that shut her entire body down. As she tried to take deep breaths, the images escaped—Booth’s hands, his serrated knives, his pleasure as he squeezed the air from her lungs.
Latham was watching her, so she tried not to let her turmoil show on her face. She managed to cock her head like she was assessing the mortal, when in reality all she wanted was to flee and never come back. Her magic leapt when the prince took a step closer, forcing her to take a big inhale. The breath calmed her enough, allowing her to speak.
“I have to say, that is the strangest request from a prisoner I’ve ever heard,” she said, hopefully sounding steadier than she felt. “Why would you want that?”
“Like I said. Your men here are terrible interrogators, and I’d like a change.”
“You want someone more adept to torture you? I’m flattered,” she deadpanned.
“I want someone who respects the process.”
“You do understand you’re more likely to talk if I interrogate you? Isn’t the whole point to keep your people safe?”
“Oh, I still won’t tell you anything,” he said bluntly.
Solveig stood abruptly. “Then I’m afraid I must deny your request. Regardless of what you think, torture does not fall under my purview.” She began to walk away.
“Wait! Please!” he called out. It was the brokenness in his voice that stopped her. She halted, waiting for him to continue.
“If you won’t take over for these morons, then answer me one last question.”
She waited.
“If it was you in this chair, when you were in the cave, wouldn’t you want the person causing you pain to at least respect you?”
Solveig’s stomach flooded with acid. She could not face him, but she said quietly, “I do not care about you. You would be trading one monster for another, John. That is what this war has done—it has turned every living being in this world dark. We are all monsters.”
Shewalkedstraightoutof the dungeon and emptied her stomach into the bushes.
Her whole body shook, a cold sweat breaking over her skin as she continued to vomit. A warm hand landed tentatively on her exposed back and rubbed slow circles as she heaved. She didn’t have it in her to feel embarrassed.
Hel, she didn’t have anything in her at that moment—it was all in the bushes at her feet.
Her breathing slowed and her stomach calmed as she braced her hands on her knees. The warm hand trailed up and down her spine in a soothing motion, and for just one moment, she let herself feel.
What would it be like to allow the prince to comfort her? If there was no war, no sides, no dissent among the races, she wouldn’t resist his pull. There wouldn’t be a reason to.
She would stand and he would wrap his strong arms around her and envelop her in his scent of salty sea and trees. She would nuzzle her face into his chest and he’d whisper consoling words to her.
It was all there in her mind—her life without war. Peaceful coexistence within the realms, her prince by her side as they trained their people. She’d never told anyone of this particular dream, but in a perfect world, she would instruct younglings to wield magic.
The prince had only recently appeared in this fantasy.
Tears pricked her eyes as the want pained her heart, but she blinked the moisture away, pushing the feelings down. They were of no use to her. Reality was not made for hopes and dreams.
Wishing was for those who knew nothing of the world—those who had not confronted the darkness that laughed in the face of fantasies. Wishing only led to heartbreak.
And she had work to do. She thought of Booth in that cave and wondered for the thousandth time if he had died.
She hoped he hadn’t so she could kill him and take her time doing it. She’d take three delicious months for it, given the chance. Like she told John, she was just another monster. The thought of her guards, Stick and Thick, Water, and Fear sent a shudder through her body.
When Solveig had first thought of her revenge, she’d wanted them strung up side by side so she could deal with them simultaneously. But that was proving to be more difficult than she anticipated, conflict raging through her as dreams and reality warred in her soul.
Like he could sense the shifting direction of her thoughts, the prince’s hand on her back stilled. She came back to the present.
“Where’d you go just now?” he asked softly.
