Solveig finished bathing and stood. “Hand me that towel in front of you, please.” Vali reached forward and grasped the small hand towel instead of the larger one to its right, handing it back to her without looking.
Solveig snorted. “Seriously?”
Vali’s shoulders shook with silent laughter as he handed her the larger towel she had gestured to in the first place. “Can’t blame a male for trying!”
“Yes, I can.”
Solveig wrapped the towel around her body and was about to tell Vali he could turn around when a sharp sting pierced her thigh. She yelped in surprise as pain lanced through her. A thick, black serpent hung from her leg, its fangs deep in her thigh.
She screamed as the pain radiated through her and she collapsed to the ground. The last thing she saw was Vali standing over her, his face unreadable through her hazy vision.
“Ow,” Solveig muttered as she came to. Her eyes blurred before she could take in the scene before her. She lay on her bed in her Alfheim rooms with Gerrie wrapping her thigh.
“You’ve had worse,” her friend teased, but the humour didn’t reach her eyes. This was serious.
“Did Vali put a fucking snake in my towel?” Solveig raged, trying to get up, but Conalle was at her other side, holding her back.
“We’re not sure,” Gerrie said, concentrating on Solveig’s wound. “He came running out of your bathroom for help, all in a panic.”
“He didn’t seem very panicked when I was bitten.” Solveig flexed her thigh muscle and cringed at the throbbing pain. “Have you seen Sten anywhere? He usually warns me of these things. That’s why my mothers sent him along.”
“No,” Gerrie answered, a look of distress crossing her features.
Conalle jumped in, changing the subject. “Is West going insane in your mind right now?”
“What?” Solveig wondered if her shock was as evident as her connection with Westley apparently was.
“You thought I didn’t know you two could mindspeak? Oh, Solveig, you’re so blind sometimes,” he said earnestly.
Solveig looked at him hard before answering. “No, he hasn’t noticed that I was almost killed by a snake.” And she didn’t mean the serpent that’d bitten her.
“That makes sense. The snake only had your garden-variety paralytic. Not venomous enough to kill you, just incapacitate you.”
“Oh, is that all?” Her head was woozy, her vision spinning. She could barely focus on this ridiculous conversation. She shut her eyes and breathed through her nose.
“You’ll be fine in a few hours. Your magic is already burning through the venom.”
“Fantastic,” Solveig mumbled, swinging her legs off the bed once Gerrie was done.
“You should postpone your fight with Steffen,” Conalle suggested, but she was already shaking her head.
“I’ve fought more difficult battles with much worse injuries. I can take on an Elven prince just fine. I could probably do it with five more snakebites. And blindfolded.”
When she carefully put some weight on her leg, it was painful, but she could manage. She would not give Alfheim a reason to step back, and she would not give whoever had done this the satisfaction of seeing her weak.
“Yeah, I thought as much,” Conalle sighed, handing her her sword.
All the way down to the theatre, Solveig tried to work through the pain in her leg. It wouldn’t subside, lingering at the forefront no matter what she did. She took a steadying breath.
One. Two. Three.
She stepped out onto the stage to loud cheers from the audience.
Steffen emerged from the other side, and Solveig was grateful this was her last match—exhaustion tugged at her, her body worn and aching.
They met in the middle, where Steffen reached out to shake her hand. Solveig paused only a fraction of a second before taking it in hers. Steffen noticed the hesitation.
“It wasn’t me,” he whispered so only she could hear.
