“Forgive me, Your Highness. I was out of turn. If you two will excuse me, I must be going. I have a meeting withGeneralArlanson.” He strutted away.
Solveig seethed, knowing she shouldn’t let him get under her skin. But no matter how many centuries she lived, there were certain personalities she’d never get used to.
“Who’s his brother?” she asked instead of dishonourably chucking a dagger at the Giant’s receding back.
“No one worth knowing,” the prince responded, his face emotionless. Solveig decided to let the matter drop for now.
“I hate that horrible excuse for a Giant.”
He swivelled his head to look at her, one eyebrow raised.
“What?” she asked.
“I never thought we would agree on anything,” he said matter-of-factly.
Forgetting herself, she smiled at him, his expression reminding her of seeing the moon glow through the clouds after a dark storm. As they stared at each other, something shifted between them. Solveig retreated and broke whatever spell they were under.
“We’d better get to the hearing,” she said.
She led the way as they walked through the camp. The prince followed a bit closer than usual, and when he got so close their hands almost touched, her skin tingled at his presence, energy pulsing between them.
Try as she might, she could not seem to keep her walls firmly intact. If she wasn’t careful, he would ruin her.
“LeifIvarsonhasfloutedthe rules of the challenge. He deserves a punishment fit for a coward.” Jarl Bjornson led the hearing. “I move he be stripped of his place in the Southern Wilds training.”
“Aye, if he had attempted such an act against one of us, that would be the punishment. But it was Fae scum he was after,” one of Latham’s newly appointed captains said, disgust etched in his features as he eyed Conalle, Noren, and the prince seated across the room from Solveig.
None of their facial expressions changed. They’d sat, quietly observing, for the last hour while their very race was scorned and disparaged.
Solveig had had enough when the jarl put his hand up. “I care not what race was in that ring with Leif. I care about what it will mean if we accept such behaviour. We, as Vanir, pride ourselves on our honour and integrity, not just towards our own people, but to all. A starving youngling deserves to be fed, whether they be Vanir, Fae, Dwarven, or an inhabitant of Helheim itself. If we let this stand, if we let thisact of cowardice and dishonour go unpunished, we will lose a piece of ourselves.”
Quillon spoke with such passion and emotion that an uncomfortable silence settled over the room. Solveig tried to keep the satisfied smirk off her face, which was made easier when Latham stood.
“I agree with Jarl Bjornson. However, the challenge was never officially pronounced completed, and therefore, there was an unauthorized entry into the ring when Tordottir blocked the blow. Leif may have attacked Prince Westley from behind—a cowardly move, yes. But he was still participating in the challenge. Therefore, I propose a less severe punishment, as this is a grey area and more than one is at fault.” He took his time, making sure each Vanir on the panel had his attention, skipping completely over Solveig. Talk about a coward.
She seethed as she got to her feet and had to fight to keep her voice calm.
“That’s bullshit. Ivarson’s blood was drawn. Those were the challenge parameters and they were met. Countless challenges have ended without a formal pronouncement.” She spoke to Latham, but he still refused to meet her gaze.
“I find it interesting that the former general is so quick to defend one not of our kind. Have her allegiances changed?” Latham asked softly.
Before Solveig could respond, the jarl stood as well. “Alright, that’s enough. This is not the time for that tribunal. Since Captain Arlanson is technically correct”—Solveig whipped her head around, staring at him in disbelief—“I propose a compromise.”
He looked gravely at Solveig and she lowered herself to her seat, bitterness coating her tongue. “I propose that Leif Ivarson keep his training position, an additional five years added to the required instruction time. In addition, he shall be publicly shamed for his cowardice. Five cuts to his back with his own sword.” Leif’s mouth dropped open, and Solveig tookpleasure in his shock. The punishment was too lenient for her liking, but it was fair. She rose again.
“I agree with Jarl Bjornson. Asgeneral,” she emphasized, “he is a soldier in training under my command. I will issue his punishment.” She hoped she’d successfully kept the glee off her face.
The jarl nodded and asked the other commanders for a vote. It was unanimously agreed upon, and Leif was escorted to the centre of the square. So swept up in Latham’s blatant politicking, she’d failed to internalize what doling out the punishment would mean.
As they walked, a trickle of sweat rolled down Solveig’s back, as though she was the one being marched to the whipping post. She shrank inwardly at her memories, slowing her pace.
The prince, who’d been following behind, must have noted her hesitation and came to walk beside her. Though he said nothing, she could feel his stare burrowing under her skin.
“If you stare at me any harder, people are going to wonder what is wrong with me. Or, more accurately, you,” she whispered.
“More like they’ll wonder if we’re sleeping together,” he joked back.
“That’s not even in the realm of possibilities. It wouldn’t cross their minds.”
