“Thanks for saving my life.” He almost sounded sincere.
“We’ll have to test the blades for poison to see if I was right. And if I was, to determine if it was deadly or would’ve merely reduced you to a lump on the ground with no control of your bodily functions.”
He grimaced at the mental picture she conjured. “I’m not sure which sounds worse.”
The corner of her mouth lifted. “Let’s get this over with, Prince.” She started walking away and he followed.
“As you command, General. Where to?”
“Since you’re the offended party, you’ll need to attend Ivarson’s hearing.”
“Right now?”
“We don’t like to drag these issues out. Better to get it over and done with.”
“Hard and fast. I’m learning so much already,” he said sarcastically. “We Fae like to take our time with things. Really learn the ins and outs of something before we finish. Makes it more satisfying.”
“Or you don’t know what you’re doing so you have to hide that fact behind unnecessary lengthy procedures.”
“Oh, you have no idea howlengthyI can be.”
A dangerous line. They were walking a dangerous line here. Solveig’s core tightened, her blood heating. She couldn’t let him see how much his words, teasing though they may be, affected her.
With a flip of her hand, she replied without looking at him. “Being lengthy without skill is just as disappointing.”
Before he could retort, a commotion drew their attention. They shared a glance before simultaneously drawing their swords and racing towards the front gate. When they arrived, Solveig relaxed her weaponwith an exasperated sigh, but the prince kept his sword raised, his body visibly tense.
Maddock rode through with all the pomp and circumstance the Jotunheim Giants regarded themselves with. Perfect timing.
“Citizens of the Southern Wilds, thank you for your warm welcome.” His beady eyes searched the crowd. His smile turned callous when he found Solveig, but all humour dropped from the Giant’s face upon seeing the prince standing beside her, sword still drawn.
“Well, well, well. This is a surprise. Prince Westley of Idavoll. I didn’t know you would be here.”
“Funny, I could say the same thing about you, Maddock.”
Solveig regarded the exchange with intrigue. Maddock dismounted his horse and handed the reins to a stable lad. The stocky commander made his way over to them.
“Lovely to see you again, Tordottir.”
“Wish I could say the same, Maddock.”
“The King of Jotunheim sends his well wishes for a speedy recovery.”
“As you can see, I am quite well, thank you,” she said, gesturing to her fully intact body. The farce of politeness was going to kill her.
“Yes, well, not all wounds are visible,” he said with mock concern. That wiped the fake smile right off her face.
“Careful, Maddock,” the prince hissed. Surprise flitted across Maddock’s expression before he could contain it.
“Say, Prince Westley, have you heard from my brother recently?”
The prince stiffened, the tension in the air thickening.
“I wasn’t aware your brothers mingled with the Fae as you do,” Solveig said. As far as she was aware, the King of Jotunheim had spawned many sons, but the number was always fluctuating. Earning the Giant throne typically required much bloodshed, much to the pleasure of their father.
“Half-brother, I’ll admit. He’s something of an outcast in our family, but the prince here is well acquainted with him.” A muscle in the prince’s jaw twitched when Solveig glanced at him, her confusion growing. “A nasty sort of fellow. I wondered how ...”
“Enough.” The prince gave the command with such authority and force that Maddock took an involuntary step back. After a second, the Giant raised his hands in the air.
