Her eyes widened. “Where did you get a Blood Stone?”
“Made ... a deal ...” John sputtered, blood leaking from his mouth.
Solveig nodded in understanding.
“Hey, General, planning to help me over here anytime soon?” the prince shouted back to her. She rolled her eyes and he smirked.
Her mind lit up with his voice.You know that’s my favourite expression.
You look like you’re doing just fine. It’s good practice for you,she replied as the prince’s attention returned to the eight mortals now surrounding him. She waited until he had knocked five of them down and they paused to regroup.
You may want to look for a Blood Stone.
His eyes widened but he nodded in understanding.
Didn’t want to mention that before?he asked, ducking and rolling to where she sat with John. “But seriously, are you really not going to help?” he said out loud.
“I’m a little occupied at the moment.”
“Yes, babysitting a dead body, how busy of you,” he quipped, tacking on as an afterthought, “no offence, John.”
“None . . . taken. She’s . . . stabbed,” the mortal breathed out.
The prince whirled on her, rage filling his eyes. “How the Hel did you get stabbed?” he roared. She waved him off, trying to adjust their position on the floor.
“Unfortunately the knife was imbued with magic and it grew to be a little longer than we initially saw. It went through John and barely grazed me.”
“Sticking . . . into . . . her.”
“Tattletale,” Solveig muttered as the prince directed his rage towards the mortals.
Even with the power of the Blood Stone they had hidden somewhere, they couldn’t compete with a Fae warrior. He broke through their barrier and landed some fatal blows before being blocked back out. Solveig marvelled at his skill.
Watching from the sidelines was different than being on the receiving end during training. If they got out of here, she planned to give him shit about holding back on her.
The mortals backed off to move their fallen out of the way, and the prince came over to them. He only had a moment.
“So you’re currently being stabbed by the sword through John’s chest.”
“I don’t know ifstabbedis the word I would use.”
“And why haven’t you moved it?”
“It’ll kill him.”
“S’okay, Sol, I’mma goner anyway,” John mumbled.
“Be quiet and save your strength,” Solveig hissed at him.
“You heard the man.” The prince pinned her with a look. She was delaying the inevitable.
“Since they ran you through with a sword, would you like your dying words to be the truth?” Solveig asked John. He tried to chuckle, but it came out as pained gurgling.
“It’s mean . . . to . . . tease . . . a dead . . . man.”
“You’re not dead yet. You can still help me end this war. End thisdeath,” Solveig insisted, holding the man to her even as the blade pierced her right below her collarbone.
“Solveig, we need to go,” insisted the prince. They could hear the mortals coming back, heavy footsteps pounding on the stairs.
