“What aren’t you telling me, Quillon?”
“Latham called an emergency vote after the prince administered Leif’s punishment,” he said gravely.
“He doesn’t have the authority to do that,” Solveig said, bristling.
“Maddock seconded the motion, and one by one, the council agreed.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow at dawn,” he said solemnly.
She was supposed to have three more weeks. Sheneededthree more weeks. Though she was feeling better—her nightmares less frequent—there was still much healing to be done.
“Better go get my pistol,” she muttered in a fake mortal accent. The jarl chuckled softly.
“That’s the spirit.” He reached out and clasped her shoulder. “No matter what happens, the people stand with you, General.”
Solveig blinked back the stinging in her eyes. Her title didn’t matter to her, but she didn’t want to lose the power to help her people. She took a deep breath. One. Two. Three.
Fuck.
Gerrie’s solid body held Solveig in place as the thrashing subsided. Her nightmare was more vivid tonight, no doubt caused by her anxious thoughts about the council vote. Not to mention the incident with Leif that had left her shaken with memories that ought to stay buried.
No light shone through the tent walls. She still had time to shake off the horrific images her mind conjured in the night.
“Do you want company?” Gerrie asked as Solveig slid out of bed.
“Not today.” She peeled off her sweat-soaked night clothes and put on a pair of black tights, clasping a band around her breasts before throwing on a loose-fitting shirt and tying up the laces on her shoes.
As Solveig left the tent, the crisp air cooled her clammy skin. Rain that had started sometime in the night fell lighter now, soothing her heated, sweaty forehead. She took a moment to relish the scent that was embedded into her senses.
She reached her arms over her head to stretch out her aching muscles. Her deep breath filled her lungs, another freeing sensation, before she let it out slowly, counting to three out of habit.
Then she ran.
She ran until her muscles burned and her lungs screamed for air. She ran through the familiar forests, racing away from the memories thatplagued her. Numb to her pain, both physically and mentally, she ran, and ran, and ran, escaping all that she was and all she was meant to be.
There was only so much one person could endure. In her four hundred and twenty-five years she had encountered all manner of horrors, had doled out all manner of horrors. Not once had she broken until the cave. Until them.Him.
But she was not broken anymore.
Her head cleared and she focused on her goal today. Light began painting the sky, black night shifting to watery pink as the sun stretched its rays over the forest. For the first time since she’d escaped, the sight of the sun did not cause her dread. It gave her purpose.
With renewed energy, Solveig made her way back to the gates, her footsteps slowing as she heard voices. A female was speaking.
Solveig couldn’t make out the words, so she stepped as lightly as she could to get closer. Rounding the bend, she stopped short, quickly placing herself behind a sizable tree.
Latham, Trella, and the prince stood huddled together.
Solveig’s heart pounded in her ears, her empty stomach churned as a foreign sensation stabbed her heart. What was the prince doing with them?
She slammed a wall up against her emotions and refused to think of anything but listening. A muscle ticked in the prince’s jaw. His eyes blazed with emotion.
“All I’m saying is that it would make sense if she’s a traitor,” Trella said, her voice low and husky, intentionally provocative.
“I need more than a theory to take back to Idavoll. Do you have any proof?” The prince looked between Latham and Trella, who glanced at each other.
“There are many eyewitnesses who witnessed Solveig deliberately make the choice not to capture the Lionhead at the last raid,” Latham answered.
