He tore his gaze from the Fae prince. “Hmm?”
“Did you not hear me?” she asked, her bottom lip jutting out in a pout.
“I’m sorry,sæta, I was distracted,” he said.
“I said,” she snapped, “did you notice that the prince was gone for a long while this afternoon, as wasshe?” Trella wouldn’t say Solveig’s name unless she absolutely had to.
“Were they together?” he asked.
“I can’t be sure, but I think so.”
“What could the prince possibly want with Solveig?”
“Probably to bed her. He’s likely the only Fae who hasn’t,” she said haughtily.
Latham stiffened. He told himself he didn’t care. Solveig had made it clear she wasn’t his. And he had Trella now. But still, he watched every night to see if Solveig visited any tents or allowed anyone besides Gerrie into her own. She never did, and certainly hadn’t since the arrival of the Fae.
Not wanting to disagree with her, he gave a noncommittal nod.
“I’ll tell you one thing I know for certain,” she said as she slipped her hand up his thigh and onto his cock. “None of those Fae will ever get their hands on me.” She stroked him, pressing the heel of her palm down as his length hardened. “I don’t need anyone but you,” she whispered into his ear. He finished his ale and pulled her onto his lap, grinding into her as he claimed her mouth.
He wouldn’t let the Fae take anything else from him.
Thoughherpositionasgeneral was in jeopardy, Solveig wouldn’t shirk her responsibility to her people. As she did before her capture, she passed loaves of bread out to the families of her soldiers, especially those in need. She could feel the prince’s stare on her, already attuned to the weight of it, but she didn’t look back.
Her head pounded from the relentless onslaught of her magic. She needed to talk to Laeknir about it but hadn’t yet told anyone about its awakening. Though she didn’t want others to know, this constant pressure was putting her on edge.
Under the guise of delivering more bread, she entered Signe and Idunn’s tent, finding them tangled up in bed along with Veda and her husband, fast asleep. She smiled at their naked forms and peaceful faces, regretful that she had to wake them. She coughed lightly and her three shieldmaidens jerked to attention immediately. Veda’s husband groaned, covering his face with a pillow.
“Don’t you all look cozy,” Solveig said with a smile.
Signe grinned back while they searched for their clothing. “Let us know if you ever want to join in. We’d gladly kick this sad sack out of our little group for you,” she said, nudging the male still in the bed. Veda shoved her playfully and leaned in to kiss the top of her husband’s head.
“I’m sorry to interrupt the love fest,” Solveig said sincerely. “I need a word with you.”
Solveig filled them in on Conalle’s plan with the prince. She wanted extra eyes on him at all times. The prince was not to be left alone for a moment during his stay. He had secrets and Solveig would have them exposed.
Their expressions turned grave as they considered the ramifications of Solveig’s words. They agreed, of course, and when Solveig left their tent, she heard them making a plan while disrobing to get back into bed. She smiled at the sound of Veda’s husband’s rough laugh followed quickly by a deep moan. She left them to it.
She greeted her people as she strode through camp, stopping to check in with them before making her way to the jarl’s tent last.
Solveig was the general of the army and the head of this war camp, but with their growing population, she had appointed a clan leader to oversee civilian issues. She’d put off her visit to Quillon long enough. She wanted an update on how her people were faring, what they needed, and how she could be of service.
She also wanted to ask his opinion on Latham’s short stint of leadership. Though he was only one vote, his voice carried weight within their clan.
The jarl was already outside his tent when she rode up. He greeted her with a fist to his chest and a deep bow. She returned the gesture. Quillon Bjornson had earned her respect, and she greatly appreciated his kind yet firm leadership. She dismounted Helle and tied her to the post.Solveig gave her an apple and handed the rest of the loaves to Quillon. The jarl would know which families needed the food most.
He gestured for her to follow him into his tent, where his wife was tending to their new addition. Solveig grinned at the babe asleep in his mother’s arms. Quillon kissed his Hjarta before she left to put the baby down.
“How is the newest Quillonson?” she asked.
“He’s a right near perfect babe, as feisty as his sister was,” Quillon said with pride in his voice.
“And does he have a name yet?”
“Not yet, no. We’re waiting a bit to see his character grow.” Solveig understood. The Vanir took great pride in naming their offspring—it was not taken lightly. “So, General Tordottir, what can I help you with, aside from distributing the food?”
“I’m sure you have an idea of what I need to discuss with you.” He nodded solemnly, and when he didn’t say anything, dread pooled in her stomach. “I’m here to ask you—”
