Before long, her senses shut down entirely and she knew nothing else.
Lathambegrudgedhistripto the river. He’d hated coming here since Solveig was captured. He saw her angrily whipping stones into the wide expanse of water. He saw her spearing fish and laughing as she splashed him. He felt her presence in every rock and tree.
Running a hand through his hair, he thought over the past three months. Gods, what a mess.
That first week she was gone was the worst of his life. He didn’t think he’d be able to stop searching for her. But as time went on and the council grew more impatient with his lack of leadership, he had to make a decision between his oath to Solveig, who was probably dead, and his duty to the monarchs of the Realms. Just thinking about the Jotunheim king sent a shiver down his spine.
He’d received a letter from Maddock that morning with instructions. Latham had to appeal to the queens to expedite their decision about the Southern Wilds. He had tried his best to put his people first,he was a Vanir above all else, but with Jotunheim and Idavoll breathing down his neck, he didn’t know what the right path was anymore.
Jotunheim was now openly allied with Idavoll, and if Vanaheim did not join them, they would find themselves with only Asgard as their ally. He hadn’t wanted to admit that he was out of his depth.
It all had gone to Hel after he gave in to that first request to make Maddock his advisor. If Solveig were here ... he stopped himself from thinking about her. It was no use.
The usual swirl of guilt and anger pressed at the back of his mind, and he forced it down. She was gone and he had to make his own choices. He knew what she would think of the decisions he’d made so far, but she wasn’t here.
And without her, he finally had the power to help his people defeat the mortals the way he thought best, even if that meant aligning with the Fae of Idavoll and the Giants, cutting Asgard out of their alliance.
Instead of going toherusual spot, Latham decided to head farther north, attempting to escape the memories. He lengthened the reins and gave his horse his head, trying to take a bit of joy in racing through the water. The shoreline curved into the riverbend along the edge of the forest where the trees started thinning. He was close to the Idavoll border.
He hated these trees, hated their labyrinth of roots and the rocks lying at their feet. Hated the Fae who resided here. And now that he was in bed with them, hated himself for it too.
Just as he was about to leave, movement caught his eye farther up the river at the treeline. He swiftly dismounted and unsheathed his sword, moving cautiously towards it. If it was an animal, he didn’t have time to lay a trap—hopefully his sword would do. If someone was watching him, he was ready for a fight.
As he drew closer, he made out a body lying on the ground, barely moving. They were clothed in all black and appeared as though they were trying to get to the river.
“Hello?” he called, but the body only struggled forward. He called louder this time. “Hello! Are you injured?” Still, there was no reaction to him. He moved closer, his heart hammering. The body moved again and the hood slipped from their head, dark copper hair spilling out. Latham’s heart stopped completely.
The world stopped spinning.
“SOLVEIG!” All thoughts vanished from his mind as he dropped his sword and raced to her.
“Solveig,” he sobbed, crashing to his knees when he reached her, rolling her onto her back. Her face was hollow, scratched, and bruised, skin sallow and pale. An angry red scar marred her right cheek.
“Solveig, please—I’m here. Wake up.” She stirred but did not open her eyes. He checked her for major injuries. None were visible except for scrapes and bruises and that brutal scar. There wasn’t time to fetch the healer. He would have to risk moving her.
He scooped her into his arms—she was far too light—and whispered apologies and loving words in her ear, anything that would keep her alive until they got back to camp. He summoned Blesi and hoisted her up with him. Wrapping her in his arms and holding on to her firmly, he rode as fast as he could through the forest.
She was alive.
Alive.
Guilt gnawed at him and terror settled in his stomach. He pulled her tightly against him as her head lolled against his chest, a moan escaping her lips.
“You’re almost home, Solveig.”
He flew through the woods, not caring how she’d escaped or how she’d made it to the river. He just had to get her home. Panic seized him when her body went limp. He could not have found her just to lose her again.
When he finally made it to the camp walls, he shouted for the guards to open the gates. They did so without hesitation. Gerrie was already running towards them, Latham’s outcry causing quite the stir.
“Latham, what the Hel—” She gasped when she caught sight of Solveig in his arms and ran forward to help get her down.
“Send for Laeknir now!” Gerrie yelled to the nearest guard, who immediately ran towards the healer’s tent while Gerrie helped Latham get Solveig onto the ground. Solveig’s breaths were short and shallow, her eyes still closed. She was not moving. Gerrie’s normally stoic demeanour shattered as she cried over Solveig’s body.
“Wake up, Sol. Come on. You’re home.” Still no response.
Laeknir came into view, pulling on a robe as he half ran, half stumbled towards them, being dragged by the guard Gerrie had sent. The healer knelt beside Solveig’s unmoving body. Latham gripped her hand so hard his fingers turned as white as Solveig’s clammy skin.
“Where did you find her?” Laeknir ran his hands over Solveig, lifting her black clothing to scan her body, prodding her limbs.
