Fucking Latham, she hissed. Her rage was a clap of thunder in his head.
Do I have your permission to kill him if I see him again?
No.
Westley smiled at the venom in her voice, gathering the power she sent. He came alive when her magic reunited with his.
“I can get us out of here,” Westley said under his breath.
“And just how do you plan to do that?” Noren asked.
With this, Solveig said in his mind, sending another wave through him, light surging out of his hands. The blast of magic burned a hole inthe cement in front of them, causing the front line of guards to take a step back.
Solveig and Westley worked together, throwing light and water, swirling them together as they made a tunnel through the guards.
The goal was escape, no matter the cost. Westley just had to get to the ship.
There was some odd magic going on here. Guards faded out of existence before appearing in a different spot. It was pandemonium as the six Fae fought their way through the disappearing mortals, constantly fending off advances from all sides.
Solveig let out a growl of frustration in his mind and sent a huge blast of light through him. She chanted a spell, a hum in the back of Westley’s thoughts filling him with more and more power. The dark bands on his magic loosened further as the sea came into view.
Almost there, he told Solveig.
He was about to celebrate when an ear-splitting shriek immobilized him. Westley turned to find Latham, soaking wet, cut and bruised, eyes frenzied. The witch spat a mouthful of blood on the ground as he held Easta to his body, sword at her throat.
“Latham?” Noren asked hesitantly, his face draining of colour.
“Release her,” Westley entreated, slowly raising his hands. He didn’t know if he could wield their magic faster than Latham’s blade.
Latham’s bloody mouth twisted into a sneer. “I will release her if you surrender yourself.”
Like Hel you will, Solveig commanded. Westley ignored her.
“I’m not going to do that, Latham. And you are not going to kill a Fae princess—the granddaughter of Ragnvald.”
“You know nothing of your grandfather. He doesn’t care for you,” Latham spat.
“Oh, I’m well aware of that fact,” Westley said, relaxing his posture as Solveig reluctantly held their magic at bay, waiting to strike. It was crucial they stay calm, but their combined bloodlust for Latham was getting out of control.
“Do not condescend to me.” Latham held Easta tighter, a trickle of blood leaking down her neck. Noren stepped forward, his shoulders tensing as a snarl rumbled through him.
Westley locked eyes with his sister and had to hold in a laugh. Latham was too preoccupied by Westley to see that Easta had managed to dislodge one of his daggers. Before he could react, Easta stabbed him in the thigh, causing him to drop her, yelping in pain.
Solveig used the distraction to send a blast of her magic through Westley, binding Latham’s hands and feet with light.
Bring him to me,she ordered.
Westley obliged, sending an image of him bowing.Anything else you’d like, General?
When she didn’t laugh or make a snarky comment, alarm vibrated through him.
Solveig?
I’m fine, she said weakly.
I told you not to burn yourself out.
I don’t take orders from you.
