She trusted Gerrie with the task, but she would need help. It wouldn’t do well to send her in with an army. Solveig didn’t know exactly what state Vanaheim was in, but maybe help from Idavoll would make things go more smoothly.
“Go with Viggo and Noren but do not take any soldiers. The bloodstone is destroyed so Ragnvald’s magical protections are gone.”
Gerrie nodded once, looking to Westley for directions.
“Go this way,” he said, pointing to another tunnel. “This leads to mine and Solveig’s quarters. There are weapons hidden—”
“I’ll find them,” Gerrie said, interrupting. Westley raised a brow, his only show of protest. “You can waste time telling me, or I can just ransack your room in seconds.” She looked delighted at the prospect.
“No need for ransacking, I know where most of them are,” Viggo said, coming to stand beside her.
“As long as she doesn’t tie us up again, I’ll go with her,” Noren said under his breath, flanking her on the other side. He looked like he’d rather go back to the throne room than follow her.
“No promises,” Gerrie said with a wicked grin. Viggo laughed, but Noren looked less than pleased.
He turned to Easta. “You will be okay without me at your back.”
It wasn’t a question, but the Idavoll princess nodded.
“May Tyr guide your sword,” Solveig said to the trio, and they were off.
“Easta,” Solveig continued, her mind running through countless scenarios, each one worse than the last. “Take the other half of the Idavoll soldiers with you. The Dwarven are allied with Jotunheim, they may be violent.”
Easta bade goodbye to Westley and turned to her half of the Idavoll soldiers.
“Conalle.” Solveig grasped his arms and pulled him in for an embrace. His arms wrapped around her, but instead of his usual warmth, his skin felt like ice. When she pulled back, a flash of shadow crossed his face before clearing. This battle had taken a toll on him. It had taken its toll on them all. Exhaustion tore at her.
“I’ll be alright, Sol,” he whispered.
“I know. If anyone can turn the Dwarven to our cause, it’s you, my friend.”
“I won’t let you down, General,” he vowed.
With the other half of the soldiers rallied, they followed Easta down the passageway.
Once their footsteps faded, Solveig took a deep breath. Only she, Westley, and her mothers remained in the darkening tunnel.
“You did well, Solveig,” Aelfsi said, placing a hand on her arm.
“West and I will escort you to Asgard,” Solveig told her mothers. Once there, they could strategize from a position of strength and rally their people.
Koa and Aelfsi exchanged a glance. A sign that never seemed to bode well for her.
“What is it?” Westley asked, his own suspicion bleeding through their connection.
Koa turned to face Solveig, trying to bring herself to full height, but her wounds stifled her. “It is time, Solveig.”
For a moment, Solveig didn’t understand. Until her previous conversation with her mothers came to the forefront of her mind. Solveig shook her head, not wanting to voice her disagreement—unable to as fear threatened to choke her.
Westley placed a steadying hand on her lower back, and his strength grounded her.
“Time for what?” he asked, glaring at her mothers. He was as sick of their games as she was. They paid no attention to him.
“You know the prophecy, Solveig. You know this was inevitable.”
“Not now,” Solveig insisted.
“It has to be now,” Koa urged, Solveig’s resolve breaking.
