They set the bow aside and fastened the rope to another arrow. When they finished, Westley assessed their contraption. Solveig hoped he hadn’t noticed the current of magic she managed to use to secure the vines in place.
He knew she had access to her magic but still didn’t trust him enough to show how much she had been able to tunnel into. She marked a Eihwaz rune over the knots, imbuing it with as much magic for resilience as she could.
Later—she’d revel in her magic later.
“We’ll need to aim higher this time, to account for the weight and the drag of the rope. We’ll also need to draw the string back as far as it will go,” he told her.
Solveig nodded as she finished tying the ends onto the arrow. She gave it a hard yank and it stayed secure, her magic holding even as the energy it took made her head spin.
“Let’s do this.”
They reset, and Solveig tried to ignore her heart’s attempt to escape from her chest.
“Breathe,” Westley whispered in her ear. She did. His scent surrounded her, and she used all the emotions it stirred to steady herself. She had to get to her people, to Helle, to the screams she could still hear ringing in her head.
“Here we go.”
They positioned themselves and notched the arrow. Westley was right—the pull of the rope made the already too large weapon more difficult to manage.
“We can do this,” he breathed.
She held the bow up and he helped support her arms. His hand curled around hers again and they tilted the arrow higher. Their magic entwined, his strength feeding hers, and she nodded when she was ready.
They loosed the arrow and tracked it as it flew through the air, suspended as if in slow motion. It arched high and then quickly started to fall, the rope dragging it down, just as Westley predicted.
It gained speed in its descent and the arrow wobbled, twisting Solveig’s stomach into agonizing knots.
The arrow made a swift downturn, and for just a moment, Solveig thought it was going to miss the ledge. Storm clouds gathered overhead, and with them, the wind picked up. If Solveig didn’t know any better, she’d have thought someone answered their prayers as the arrow finally impaled the earth on the edge of the cliff.
“Ican’tbelievethatworked,”Westley whispered.
“It only works if it holds me,” Solveig said, bending down to pick up the vine. When she yanked on it as hard as she could, it didn’t budge. Her magic was holding firm. “Only one way to find out.”
“Excuse me, General, but what did you just say?”
“Only one way to find out?”
“Before that,” he said through his teeth. She narrowed her eyes.
“You’re injured,” she said plainly.
“You’re not leaving me here.”
Solveig’s temper rose. They were wasting precious time arguing. “It’s not going to hold us both.”
“If you think I’m going to let you—” Westley started.
“Let me? You can’t even pull your bow back without my help. How do you think you’re going to hold on to a swinging vine?!”
“Funny you should bring up the bow. That’s exactly how I’m going to hold on.” Solveig stared at him blankly. “With your help,” he added.
“Now is not the time for jokes, West.”
“Gods, Solveig,” he said, running his hands through his hair. He paced back and forth on the edge of the cliff. His demeanour shifted, shoulders slumping as he faced her.
“You’re not going to change your mind on this are you?” he asked.
“No,” she said, resolute.
