Thescreamsstillrangin Westley’s ears as he walked away from the Vanir soldier. He’d tried to make the punishment quick, but his efforts had been futile. The poison that coated the blade was not meant to kill, as he quickly discovered.
However, his relief was short-lived as the skin around the cuts began to sizzle and burn. The smell was horrendous, and he made a mental note to sincerely thank the general for stepping in during the challenge.
Five cuts did not sound like many, but he had to dole them out slowly, so slowly it felt like an hour before he was finished. Solveig did not return.
Solveig.
Just thinking her name sent shivers down his spine, his magic reacting to the very thought of her. The terror in her eyes had been so potent. He acted before thinking, stepping forward to help her in any way he could. But the damage was done.
When she’d disappeared from view, his attention went to Latham and Maddock. They were whispering while watching her walk away, and the Jotunheim commander wore the most disgustingly gleeful look on his face.
Goddess,he’d thought. He couldn’t believe Maddock of all people was here. Luckily it seemed his general shared his feelings about the Giant, so it would be easy to keep them apart.
“So ...” Noren came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder as they walked.
“So what?”
“Are we going to talk about what happened back there?” He nodded to where Leif was being dragged off. They’d called for Laeknir after the first cut, but the healer couldn’t be found.
“Nothing to talk about,” Westley replied gruffly.
“Sure, sure. A gallant white knight coming to save the damsel in distress. No big deal.”
“I am not a white knight, and the general is not a damsel.”
Noren gave him a knowing look. “That’s not how it appeared to me.”
“You think it was a romantic gesture?” Westley asked, trying to sound unconcerned, joking even, but not quite hitting the mark.
“I think the general couldn’t perform her duty. You saved her and she let you.”Damn it. “You know our orders—we’re here to be impartial and gather as much information as we can. You’re anything but impartial.”
Westley rubbed a hand over his face. “I couldn’t stand there and do nothing—”
“I know,” Noren said, interrupting him. “I know, West. But you should have.”
There hadn’t been a time in his life where he fought so hard against what was expected of him. Then again, there hadn’t been a reason tofight against it until now. The general was messing with more than just his magic—his mind was a storm and he was caught in the middle.
What was it about her that made him forget his duty?
If he was being honest though, it wasn’t just about her. Living with the Vanir legion, working with them instead of facing them on the battlefield was a completely different experience than what he’d been expecting.
Sure, the Vanir were rougher around the edges and they enjoyed their violent punishments, but as a people? Much less barbaric than what he’d been taught to believe. He shouldn’t have been so foolish as to judge an entire race on how they acted in war.
And seeing how Solveig had trained them and taken care of them? The storm in his mind raged against the foundation of his upbringing. Who was he to say he was better than these people? What made the gods choose Idavoll over all the realms? Nausea was a constant companion as he walked through the camp, the sick feeling in his stomach churning with something he’d rather not name.
They were almost to the dining hall, ready for a late lunch, when Westley spoke again.
“I don’t know how I’m going to fix—” He was cut off by footsteps quickly approaching from behind.
“Prince of Idavoll,” Solveig said loudly enough for the people around to hear. Westley braced himself. “That is the second time you have interfered with my business. I warned you after the first that I would not tolerate it again.”
“Are you here to challenge me?” he asked, drawing up to full height. She did not back down. He never thought she would.
“You don’t deserve the right to be challenged by me,” she stated, then swiftly cocked her arm back. Before he could move to protect himself, she punched him in the face.
Gasps echoed around them as Solveig got into position to throw a second punch. This time instead of ducking, he grabbed her wrist in mid-air and yanked her close. His skin burned where he touched her, and her sharp intake of breath told him she felt it too.
“What are you doing?” he whispered.
