Solveig couldn’t breathe as Sten’s prophecy danced in her mind. She stared at Laeknir, resolve filling her heart, her magic whirling. Ragnvald’s drawling voice became background noise as she gathered the will she needed to break through the barrier on her magic, as she had with the stone.
A rising pulse of electricity filled the air, silencing whatever was about to come out of Ragnvald’s poisoned mouth.
“Solveig,” the prince pleaded, but she was past listening.
She heard his hiss of pain as he reached out to touch her, only to be struck by her magic.
Solveig slowly rose to her feet. “I will give you one chance, Ragnvald, and one chance only, to crawl back to Hel and never return.” Her voice was deadly quiet.
She saw the prince wince from the corner of her eye as Ragnvald laughed at her. “You are one female. I do not care how powerful you are—do not threaten me,” he warned.
The prince got to his feet and tried to tug on her arm again, ignoring the shocks she sent towards him. “Don’t do this, Solveig,” he pleaded.
“Sit down, lad, and stop grovelling like a mortal. It’s beneath you. She’s beneath you.”
Solveig ignored the prince, ignored the king, speaking only to Laeknir. “You’re coming with me,” she said. A second before she unleashed her magic, Ragnvald’s eyes flared with surprise.
Light flashed out around her, blasting everyone but Laeknir out of their seats with a loud crack.
He sat in disbelief as the room descended into silence, the Fae’s bodies lining the floor where they fell, still breathing but unconscious.
“How did you do that?” he asked, fear clipping his words. She didn’t answer, and he balked in his chair when she stalked towards him. She gripped his arm, a shock zapping from her hand, forcing Laeknir to move with her. He tried to fight it, but her magic held him in place, controlling the currents of his body as she led him outside.
Solveig wasted no time, unsure how long the Fae would remain unconscious. Her body shook with exhaustion from the blast of magic, sapping almost all her strength. She pushed Laeknir onto his knees and stood behind him.
“For your crimes against Vanaheim and Asgard, I, Solveig Tordottir, General of Asgard, sentence you, Laeknir Balderson, healer of Vanaheim, to death. Do you deny your treason?” she asked, her voice cracking.
“No,” came his strong reply. Solveig’s heart broke at the word and then shattered into pieces as she brought her sword down to rest on his neck. The only movement he made was a flinch at the touch of cold steel.
“May your love welcome you in Hel. I hope it was worth it,” she whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks. She swung her sword back and brought it down hard, not hesitating even as every cell in her body rejected the action.
Laeknir’s head rolled away from his slumped body.
Solveig lifted her head up to the violent sky and roared at the looming storm. Thunder swallowed the sound whole.
Westley’sheadthrobbedashe wrenched his eyes open.
There was no groggy period of disorientation. He woke remembering every single moment before tendrils of that blinding light had escaped Solveig’s body and everything had gone dark. His parents were starting to stir, but his grandfather and guards were still out cold.
He had no idea how long they’d been unconscious.
Ignoring the nausea that roiled in his stomach, he jumped to his feet, head spinning. Solveig and Laeknir were gone. He still couldn’t process the magnitude of Laeknir’s betrayal.
But not in league with the mortals. With his grandfather.
Unease curled in the pit of his stomach. It didn’t make sense. He was missing vital information, something his grandfather had purposefully kept from him. Did his parents know? They must have. What else had they kept from him?
Westley raced out of the tent and stopped in his tracks. A shiver ran down his spine. Solveig had left Laeknir’s body slumped on its stomach in the muddy grass, the head a few feet away, eyes open.
The blood that leaked from the body was cool on his fingertips, but not cold. She couldn’t have gotten far.
He ran to the stables and cursed under his breath—both Helle and Njord were gone. He tried to call out to her mind but couldn’t sense her at all. She’d blocked him out.
A set of hoofprints in the mud led north towards the forest. She was headed to Asgard.
His body was still sore from being blasted by her magic, but he forced himself to move as fast as he could, his Fae speed kicking in once he crossed the threshold of the woods.
Solveig didn’t have time to be stealthy with two horses. The trail was easy to follow.
