“I have no problem making a speech in her favour.”
“As grand as that would be, it wouldn’t be enough. Latham has spent over a month with some of these Fae—one speech will not do. Actions speak louder,” Conalle told him.
“So what am I to do? How will this decision be made?”
“It’s less formal than a court decision,” Conalle continued. “There will be a vote of the council since this legion not only serves Asgard but also the other realms in the Trifold. We are here to observe the camp, observe Latham and Solveig, and then present our findings to the queens who will then make their final decision. They, of course, favour Solveig, but they’re also blinded by their concern for her.” He gave Solveig a knowing look.
“Okay,” the prince said tentatively, apparently still not quite sure what his role was. “What’s the plan then?”
This time it was Solveig who spoke. “Since I did not die,” she started bluntly, “our rules state that Latham was an acting general and his position is no longer needed. The queens did not swear him in, so it is my position still. I will perform my usual duties with the warriors and with our jarl—Latham will do the same, given the following he’s created for himself. The Fae will be tasked to work within the camp to get a better sense of our leadership skills. You and your people will participate in training and contribute to camp duties. I assume that since you are a war prince you are not useless.”
Conalle continued for her before the prince could retort. “This is Solveig’s position to lose. She will have to prove she is of sound mind and body and able to do her duties. Latham’s job will be proving that she cannot.”
“Where do I fit in?”
“You have to be willing to follow my lead. Do as I say—be my new number two, as it were,” she said, a challenge in her eyes.
“I know this will be difficult for you since, unlike Latham, you are not a snivelling piece of shit with no real opinions to speak of, only there to suck the teat of—” Conalle ranted.
“Okay, we get it,” Solveig cut in. “The prince is capable of his own mind.” She faced the prince. “Which is why you are perfect for this. I already know you’re going to be a pain in my ass, but being able to lead you will only make me more impressive to the Fae.”
“So you want me to be a pain in your ass but also do whatever you say,” he said cautiously.
“Hel no. I refuse to have anyone following me who does not respect me. I plan to earn your respect, and you will have to earn mine,” she said defiantly. “Your soldiers will not believe it if it’s staged, so feel freeto challenge me in front of them. Feel free to be a pain in my ass openly. This has to be real.”
“If it has to be real then why are you telling me? Shouldn’t you just go about your business, garnering genuine reactions from me?”
“Ah. You see, that’s what she wanted to do, but I advised against it,” Conalle said, with a sheepish expression. “You need to know because regardless of how difficult she is on you, you need to stand by her, for the sake of Idavoll. The only way to ensure your pride does not get hurt, Your Highness, is to include you.”
“You think I’d run from her with my tail between my legs if she was hard on me?” the prince asked, sounding genuinely offended.
“That reaction is exactly why you need to be aware of what’s happening. If you’re so easily ruffled, I can’t be sure you won’t get your feelings hurt and ignore me,” she said, smirking as he took her bait.
The prince took a step towards her but she held her ground, as immovable as the ancient trees in the forest. He stood a head taller than her, but she focused on trying to make him feel small under the weight of her stare. He glared, challenging her with his aggressive stance. She did not balk.
He lowered his voice, practically growling at her, “Does it look like I’m scared of you, witch?”
Though Solveig tried not to show how he affected her, the slight hitch in her breath at his sudden nearness betrayed her. But she didn’t lean away or take a step back. She angled herself in, meeting his fierce gaze with her own.
“You may not fear me now,Your Highness, but I vow that someday soon, you will.” She held his eyes prisoner, locked in the depths of her broken soul despite the screaming current in her veins that wished to blast him across the fjord.
Despite the urge to close the distance and use her bare hands to strangle the life from him, she did not move. Instead, she used the pain of her magic to keep her rooted to the ground. Tension swirled around them. The prince’s hand flexed at his side. She smirked, cold humour replacing the hatred in her eyes.
Conalle clapped his hands together and they jerked back from each other, the spell broken. Solveig had completely forgotten he was there.
“Well, this will be fun!” Conalle said, a conspiratorial smile stretching across his face.
Withoutaword,thegeneral whistled for Helle. Her horse came running, and instead of waiting for her to stop, she grasped the neck, swinging herself onto the saddle, and headed off back towards camp. Westley watched her retreating figure in fascination.
Conalle moved into his line of sight. “So, are you going to make me ask?”
“Ask what?”
“What that staring was about? I was standing right here, you know, just minding my own business while you two tore each other apart with your eyes. I won’t lie, I had to fan myself a little.”
“You have never minded your own business a day in your life, Connie.”
“True,” he said, clearly waiting for Westley to answer his question.
