“It’s not that he lied, but what he told you wasn’t true.”
“Yes, please be more cryptic, it’s so helpful.” His sarcasm was endearing him to her more than she wanted to admit.
“He told you my father was mortal. That’s not true.”
Surprise flitted over his features. “He said you told him that yourself—you and Queen Koa. Your half-sister?”
“Yes,” Solveig said slowly, deciding on the spot what she would share. “Koa is my half-sister, we share the same mother. But my father was not mortal. No one knows of him because he—” She had to pause to rephrase. “He was dangerous and couldn’t be trusted.”
“So why tell Latham a lie?”
“The queens were wary of people getting close to me and finding out I was blood related to Koa. The Trifold knew I was powerful, but because I showed up out of nowhere, everyone assumed the queens took me in out of the kindness of their hearts. A bastard turned orphan. Powerful with magic but with no family to speak of, I was not a threat to the monarchs.
“When I grew and began forming relationships, my mothers decided to fabricate stories of my heritage. That way, if information was leaked, we would know who couldn’t be trusted. When Latham came into my life, he was told this version. Even Gerrie was told a different story.”
“But part of his story was that you are related to Koa.”
“Yes, but because everyone else was told other variations, nothing he said can be trusted.”
“So how do I know you aren’t lying to me now, giving me another version?”
“You don’t. I could very well be spinning an alternate history. But all you have to do is talk to others and you’ll see that every version of my past is told differently—if you can get them to divulge that information, of course.”
“I can only imagine how easy that would be,” he said sarcastically. Solveig smiled at him.
He looked around the tent and pulled the desk chair to the side of her bed, settling in. Solveig propped herself up on the pillows and gestured to his still bare chest and wet pants.
“Do you want a change of clothes?” she asked him.
“Why? Am I distracting you?”
Yes. No.She sighed and grabbed one of the blankets from her bed. “I can see your gooseflesh from here. You look chilled, Prince.”
“How many of these do you have?” he asked when the blanket she tossed to him didn’t make a dent in the pile on the bed. Solveig shrugged.
“Gerrie is like an animal when she sleeps. She nests.”
The prince raised a questioning eyebrow.
“This wasn’t my first nightmare,” she answered quietly.
The blood drained from his face. “How often?”
She stared directly at him as if in a challenge. “Every night since the cave.”
“The cave?” he asked cautiously.
Solveig narrowed her eyes. He was the prince from Idavoll, she had to remind herself. “I was chained inside a cave for three months while being tortured by sadists,” she said bluntly. He couldn’t hide his flinch from her.
He cleared his throat. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“Good. I don’t.”
“Okay then. So, you and Latham?”
Solveig sighed in response. “Conalle is such a huge gossip, there’s no way you don’t already know.” She was grateful for the change in topic. She didn’t talk about the cave with anyone except Gerrie, and certainly not with him.
“He may have said something about it,” he said with a grin, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
