Gerrie and Laeknir had stayed up late last night discussing how much time to give her before they told her everything. Solveig was in no state to be put in this position, but it couldn’t be helped. Still, even a broken Solveig was strong.
They were about to pass through the gates when Helle stopped. Gerrie turned to see why Solveig had pulled the reins, but it was Helle who dug her hooves in. Gerrie observed the showdown between witch and horse and had to fight to keep the smile off her face.
Solveig soundlessly urged Helle on, but the horse wouldn’t budge. Instead, she took a step back in answer. Solveig crossed her arms over her chest, head tilting, jerking her head towards the gate. Helle reared her head in an almost comically similar movement.
The horse stepped forward and nudged Solveig with her nose, motioning to the side in a clear order for her to mount. She craned her neck at the towering saddle, face blank, and Gerrie’s smile dropped. Solveig couldn’t mount. Though she’d swung herself up thousands of times, even Gerrie could see she had lost much of her strength.
Stepping forward, Solveig drew in an unsteady breath. Her hands shook as she gripped the reins in one hand and placed the other on the back of the saddle. Gerrie knew better than to offer help, so she sent silent encouragement. Solveig backed up to get her foot in the stirrup, tightened her grip on the saddle, and moved her other hand, still grasping the reins, to the pommel.
When she hesitated, Gerrie knew she was counting to three in her head. She pushed off the ground and almost made it before her limbs gave out all at once, falling to the ground with a hard thump.
In a panic, Gerrie was about to dismount when Helle lowered herself beside Solveig and gave her another nudge. Solveig rested her head on Helle’s shoulder before standing and slowly mounting from Helle’s lower position. Careful to not jostle her rider, Helle gracefully stood. Tears rolled down Gerrie’s cheeks as Helle strode easily out of camp.
Thank the goddesses for that damn horse.
Gerrie followed Solveig and Helle through the gates, moving at a slow pace while Solveig adjusted. She didn’t have a destination in mind—this was about going at Solveig’s pace and allowing her to feel safe and normal again.
Not that Solveig had gone for a leisurely ride for the Hel of it in centuries. Still, Solveig’s tight posture relaxed, her movements growing more assured the longer they rode. She wished Solveig would speak but didn’t push.
Not yet, anyway.
An hour of silence later, Gerrie came to ride beside Solveig. She was surprised to see her eyes were closed, fresh tears carving tracks down the sides of her face.
Solveig breathed deeply and evenly, in through her nose and out through her mouth. Her hands were loose on the reins, her thighs relaxed. A pang of longing shot through her as she remembered her ownhorse, Ulfir, the only animal Gerrie would trust to ride so informally. But Ulfir was gone and there was nothing she could do about it. She watched Solveig for a moment longer before she broke the silence.
“Do you remember when we caught Helle and Ulfir attacking Maddock’s horse?” she blurted out. Solveig’s eyes opened, a smug smirk on her face. She did remember.
“What was the horse’s name again?” she tried. But Solveig furrowed her brows as if she didn’t remember and was trying to think of it. How much of herself had she buried?
“It was so gaudy. Who names their horse Odin? Like he was the king of horses or something.” Gerrie snorted. “When Odin tried to mount Ulfir, Helle ran over and slammed into him. I’ll never forget how quickly that pathetic animal cowered under their hooves.” She paused and then said in a quieter voice, “I miss her.”
Sympathy shone in Solveig’s eyes, and she reached over to take Gerrie’s hand. After another small pause, she broached the subject carefully.
“Maddock never came back after the raid. Like horse, like master. After the coward ran, a messenger arrived only days later to explain that he’d been severely wounded, barely escaping with his life. Lies, of course.” Solveig didn’t shrink away from the topic, so Gerrie continued.
“It was pandemonium after Latham came out of the woods, bleeding and saying you’d been taken. We rushed out of the village as quickly as possible.” Gerrie looked away for a moment before turning back with an apology clear on her face. “We weren’t able to capture the hairy mortal.”
She nodded slowly and nodded at Gerrie to keep going. So she did, telling Solveig all the details—what camp had been like and the way they’d rallied together to try to find her. She glossed over the timeline, even though that would have to come later.
Gerrie gave her the update on some of the new politics of camp life. She hesitated before continuing, but she had to get some of the bad news out of the way before breaking the worst of it.
“Latham was unconscious by the time I made it over to him. When he woke, he was screaming and yelling for you. He was ... heartbroken once we were able to put the pieces together of what happened.” Solveig’s face was grave now, her features tight with anger. “I haven’t forgiven him for it. I don’t think I ever will. When we got back, I lost it on him. Even though he was still injured I beat him within an inch of his life before others had to pull me away. We’ve barely spoken since.”
Solveig would eventually forgive him for following them. It was a shame, though—he didn’t deserve her forgiveness. “I don’t want you to be surprised, and it’s not like he has the balls to tell you himself. But Latham, he ...” She was about to tell her some difficult news when out of nowhere, Solveig screamed and Helle took off like a shot through the forest.
Thoughsheneededtoknow, it was difficult to hear Gerrie update her on everything that had happened since her capture.
Her stomach churned at the knowledge of Latham allying with Jotunheim and the consequences that would follow. Maddock and his king had their own agenda—Solveig had never trusted them. Latham knew it, and she couldn’t fathom why he’d done it. Made Maddock his advisor? What was he thinking?
She was selfish enough to dwell more on the fact that he’d broken their deal. It was dishonourable to break an oath, especially one of that calibre. Solveig had a hard time respecting him or even understanding it. But Latham had always put his own opinions above his duty, so it shouldn’t have surprised her.
Gerrie was about to tell her something else concerning Latham when the breeze shifted, carrying the smell of damp moss and mildewed rocks.
The scent hit her like a shock—her body went rigid as the pain of her magic flared. She was no longer riding with Gerrie, safely atop Helle. She was transported back to the cave, chained to the floor, watchingFear stalk towards her.
A dream. This had all been a dream.
If the months of torture hadn’t broken her, this dream of hope, of escape, certainly would.
