“To start, I need you to help me uncover their identities.”
The shieldmaidens did not appear the least bit dismayed by this impossible task. In fact, a dark gleam entered their eyes, their shock quickly fading into determination.
“We will do anything we can to find them,” Signe swore, no hint of doubt in her strong voice.
“Thank you,” Solveig said, relief flooding her senses.
“Are you comfortable with sharing any details you have?” Idunn asked cautiously.
Solveig took a deep breath. “There were five of them. Four males, one female.” She gave them as accurate a description as she could of each Fae’s general build and demeanour and of Booth’s differing stature. She was fairly sure he was not a Vanir-Elven Fae, but she hadn’t had the time to study him to determine his heritage.
“We will not let you down, General,” Veda said, bringing her fist to her chest, the other two following her lead.
“You must be discreet. No one can suspect that Idavoll has betrayed the Trifold until we know more. I will inform Gerrie, and she can assist you in any way you need.”
“We understand,” they said in unison. Solveig thanked them again and left them to make their plans.
Gerrie was getting changed from her dirty training gear when Solveig entered the tent and filled her in on the conversation with hershieldmaidens. As Solveig put on her black fighting leathers, the two discussed strategy and she let Gerrie curse her out for not telling her sooner.
Though she left off her armour, Solveig made it clear she was readying herself for battle.
She strapped on dagger after dagger, her swords crossing at her back, and hung Booth’s hammer at her side. Her hair was longer than it had ever been, and she weaved rows of small braids at the sides, intertwining them at the base of her neck with the large plait that fell down her back.
Solveig took great care in applying the marks on her face. She used kohl just under her eyes, with a thick black line crossing both cheekbones and over the bridge of her nose. She drew an Othala rune on her forehead to signify that this home was hers and she had the strength and power to defend it, even without magic.
The outstretched lines at the base of the diamond hovered above her brows. On her chin, which she customarily marked with only one thick black line, she drew the Sowulo.
She tried and failed to will her magic into it. Still, the mark would infuriate Latham, and probably the absent gods for using one of their precious symbols. Solveig only ever used the Sowulo rune in battle, and her people knew it.
They needed a reminder of who she was and what she was capable of. It wouldn’t hurt to remind herself of that as well. Whether imbued with magic or not, symbols held power.
Solveig faced Gerrie with a wicked grin. She returned the smile, taking in Solveig’s warpaint.
“She’s back, bitches.”
“Hel yeah I am.”
“Let’s go meet some Fae bastards, shall we?” Gerrie slapped her ass on the way out of the tent and Solveig’s laugh was real and full. She fastened her fur-lined cloak around her shoulders.
“Let’s do this.”
Gerrie followed one step behind Solveig on their way to the front gates. They could hear the Fae had already arrived and, based on the growing crowd at the gates, were being given a very warm welcome.
Solveig hung back to watch her people flock around the preening Fae peacocks. She didn’t blame them—this was the first time they’d received outside visitors in almost fifty years. She’d let them have a bit of fun and make her presence known when the time was right.
Latham grasped the forearm of the leader of the group, a male who towered over him. In response, he puffed out his chest, standing at full height. Solveig rolled her eyes. Latham could turn the charm on when he wanted to, and he was clearly pulling out all the stops. The Fae’s voice rang out to the waiting crowd.
“Vanir of the Southern Wilds, thank you for allowing us onto your lands and into your homes. You have the respect of Asgard and Idavoll for all you have been through.” He bowed to the people.
“The honour is all ours, Lord Conalle,” Latham said loudly, bowing in return. “Please make yourselves at home. We have prepared the best tents for your weary companions.” Lord Conalle’s companions didn’t show signs of being the slightest bit tired, looking offended at the insinuation. Sensitive Fae peacocks.
“Surely such strong Fae warriors would prefer a taste of our strongest drink and a hot meal over a soft bed,” Solveig called from the back of the crowd.
The way they all turned as one was comical. Her people parted automatically as she pushed off the post she leaned against.
She did not smile at the Fae, nor his companions, and certainly didn’t offer Latham a single glance. The lord’s hazel eyes widened as she neared. Her magic purred under her skin, enjoying the scent of fear in the air.
Intakes of breath could be heard as they took her in. She strode through the crowd, keeping her pace slow and unhurried, locking eyes with the Fae lord when she reached him.
