“I’m surprised he didn’t give you a detailed list with the partners of every single person he has ever known.”
“And how many would be on your list, General?”
“It’s very rude to ask someone their number of lovers.”
“Not where I come from. It’s polite dinner conversation in Idavoll.”
“Oh yes, I can imagine the royal family sitting around your oversized table, enjoying meats and cheeses while each of you discuss your latest conquests.”
The prince laughed. “You have no idea how accurate that image is.”
“Really?” Solveig said, genuinely surprised.
“Yes, it drives our parents mad. So obviously, my sister and I try to one-up each other by offending their—how did you put it?—delicate sensibilitiesas much as possible.”
“And whousually wins?”
“Oh Easta, every single time. But she loves to embellish. North is too proper to participate.”
“And you don’t?”
“Maybe once or twice.” His coy smile told her that was a lie. “But my stories don’t need embellishing to be shocking.” They were toeing a very fine line, one she couldn’t cross.
They sat in companionable silence for a while. Solveig was surprised when she started to feel the tug of sleep at the corners of her mind. She usually never went back to sleep once she woke from a night terror, especially one as extreme as tonight’s.
But she was warm and safe.
No, not safe—her magic was flowing too painfully under her skin to feel completely at ease. Nonetheless, she was losing the battle as her body relaxed farther into the bed, and her eyelids began to droop before she snapped them open.
“Go back to sleep, Solveig,” the prince whispered as he got up from his chair.
“Stay,” she whispered back, her eyes closed, already drifting off. She didn’t know if she even said it out loud.
“Som du ønsker,” she thought she heard him say in his native tongue, but she was too far gone to process what it meant.
Westley watched Solveig’s face relax into a deep sleep. Goddess help him, she was so beautiful.
And he was a fool.
He should’ve left when she woke and calmed down, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave. She kept enticing him with her conversation and those eyes that saw too much.
Fuck. She had overheard their conversation. He didn’t know how much of it—he hoped just the bit where Latham betrayed her secrets.
He ran a hand over his face and rested his head back against the chair. She’d asked him to stay, so he would, but only for a bit. He didn’t think he would’ve been able to leave even if she hadn’t asked.
This witch had some strange hold over him. She had since the first moment he’d laid eyes on her. He had that urge to protect her then, though he hadn’t known what it was at the time, and he had the same impulse now. He would do anything she asked of him, no matter what it cost.
And that put him in a very dangerous predicament.
“Som du ønsker,” he whispered again.
As you wish.
Thesunstreaminginthrough the fabric of her tent woke her from a dreamless sleep, the scent of last night’s rainstorm dissipating in the heat of the morning. It took only a moment for the evening’s events to catch up with her, and she registered that she was not alone.
She slowly shifted to see the prince sleeping in the chair beside her bed. His head tipped back against the headrest and his mouth hung wide open. Despite her misgivings about last night, the sight made Solveig smile. She wished she had one of those mortal devices that used light to make an instant painting.
The clicking sound would probably wake him, and Solveig didn’t want to disturb his peace. When the moment passed and the situation became too hard to ignore, she was frozen with indecision.
