“He will have felt your magic, especially with that display in the throne room,” Aelfsi explained.
“Who?” Westley asked.
“I’m not strong enough to face him,” Solveig pleaded with her mothers, though she knew it was pointless.
“Can you all hear me? Am I suddenly invisible?” Westley asked, their bond flaring with his annoyance.
Solveig turned to him, but no words left her mouth. They couldn’t.
Koa explained instead: “Solveig cannot speak of it. Her tongue is bound by magic.”
“Speak of what?” he asked with a frustrated growl.
“Of her father,” Aelfsi said ominously. Solveig stared at Westley, gauging his response as surprise and confusion flitted across his face.
“Your father?”
Solveig nodded. She turned to her mothers. “We will escort you to Asgard and then we will go,” she said, resigned to her fate.
Aelfsi shook her head. “You must go now.”
“You are injured,” she said to Koa. “You’ll need protection.”
Aelfsi would not hear of it. “You need not worry about us.” She stood tall, her voice more menacing than Solveig had ever heard it. “I can protect my mate.”
Solveig stared hard at her mother, a silent showdown Solveig knew in her bones she would not win. Koa got to her feet slowly and stood between her wife and her sister. She laid a palm on each of the females’ shoulders, silently pleading with them to back down.
Aelfsi acquiesced first.
“Solveig,” Koa said gently, “let us go. We will be fine.” The queen’s sincerity was evident, and a lifetime of lessons and experience told Solveig to believe her. Her shoulders slumped in defeat.
“You could’ve at least told me before I sent everyone away.”
“We will be fine,” Koa said again. Aelfsi drew Koa’s arm around her shoulders. The two queens stared at their daughter.
“Remember, you are the very best of him and the very best of our mother,” Koa said. Solveig embraced her mothers before the queens were off, down the tunnel Westley directed them to.
Solveig turned slowly to meet Westley’s frustrated gaze.
“Want to tell me what’s going on?” he asked through gritted teeth.
Solveig steeled herself. “We’re going to Hel.”
NorenstompedbehindGerrieand Viggo, who were laughing about something idiotic in front of him.
He would’ve rather gone with Easta and Conalle to Svartalfheim, especially since Easta’s mate was useless and Conalle, though diplomatic, couldn’t protect her. Noren had spent the better part of two centuries as her personal guard—he bristled at being sent away, where he couldn’t protect her.
Frustrating that Westley was letting Solveig order him around like she owned his balls too.
No one owned his balls. His balls were his alone.
Solveig may have been more than they’d bargained for in the cave, and he begrudgingly respected the Hel out of her, but that didn’t mean he had to go above and beyond. He’d go to Vanaheim with Gerrie and Viggo, but he wouldn’t stay long—just enough to do his duty and then get his ass to Svartalfheim to protect Easta and her family.
He’d sworn an oath to them. To her.
Plus, he was sure Viggo wouldn’t mind and would probably offer to come with him. Viggo was itching to get back to Conalle—poor bastard had a soft spot for the lord.
They made their way out of the Idavoll palace through the secret passageway Noren hadn’t known existed. He was pissed Westley had kept it from him.
