“WESTLEY!”
She continued to shout his name, her voice hoarse from the salty water.
Wave after wave tried to claim her to the dark, briny deep. She screamed until she couldn’t any longer, until her voice gave out and her body couldn’t fight the torrent of the ocean.
She called for him in her mind, but there was no answer.
The sea was littered with debris from the wreckage of their ship. Without Westley there to keep it afloat, it descended into the inky black depths, finally giving way to the damage. Solveig swam against all odds to the nearest plank of wood and held on for dear life.
“FUCK YOU!” she screamed at the gods.
A strike of lightning was her only answer.
The rain was indistinguishable from tears as fear wreaked havoc on her body. She used it to push forward, to hold on, to cling to hope that Westley was not dying in the ocean.
The Sea Prince of the Riddari, Aegir himself, could not have died such an ironic death.
Solveig threw light constantly until she could no longer feel. Until the cold and fear made her numb—until the sea drained her of all her energy.
She didn’t know how long she tried.
Days, weeks, years.
The moments blended together as she alternated between screaming for her mate and throwing light so that even if he couldn’t answer, he could find her.
Her lips cracked and bleeding, stinging with salt from the sea, her body so full of water she might explode.
Eventually the storm died down, but not the one that raged inside.
She couldn’t pull enough energy together to feel anymore as she drifted along the water’s surface, alone. With not even fear to keep her company, she resolved herself to her fate.
The mists descended around her, the clouds overhead morphing into fog so thick she couldn’t see. She couldn’t see anything, only Westley’s last plunge as he fell into the sea.
She couldn’t feel the change in the water from salty and tumultuous to calm and thick like oil. She did not feel it when her deteriorating plank of wood drifted peacefully onto a rocky shore.
She felt nothing.
Gerrieawokewithastart, sweat trickling down her back as the flash of a serpent’s tongue lingered on the fringes of her memory.
Just a dream, she tried to reassure herself. But she couldn’t shake the warning. She closed her eyes and let the feeling of alarm wash through her, searching for any hidden meaning.
As Solveig’s shieldmaiden and sworn protector, she’d made an oath. That oath connected her to Solveig through the magic of their blood—the dream had been more than her scared imaginings.
Solveig was in trouble, and Gerrie could do nothing to help her at this moment.
It would soon be time to fulfill the final request of the queens. If Solveig was under attack, that meant they were almost to Hel and Gerrie would have to leave Vanaheim soon. She rolled over, turning away from Viggo’s vast naked body beside her.
Hearing Noren’s vigorous lovemaking had inspired her to take Viggo to bed again, and she was glad she did—she needed the distraction, and he was quite a large one.
Gerrie slinked out from under the covers, trying not to disturb the male, who was beginning to stir. By the look of things, his dream wasnot nearly as horrifying as Gerrie’s, and while her pussy throbbed at the thought of getting his thick cock inside her again, she couldn’t give in. She had shit to do.
The stairs were frozen with the chill of night. The pub that had been full of life and warmth last night was now cold and empty—eerily quiet. Gerrie slipped out, cloaked under the dark sky, her bare feet sinking into the soft dewy ground.
When her feet met the soil, connecting her directly to Yggdrasil, the part of her that lay dormant for so long awoke with awareness.
She found a quiet spot, close enough to the pub that she could get back in a flash but far enough away that she wouldn’t be disrupted.
It was brief, but there was a moment when her soul recoiled from what she must do. But when her knees hit the ground, it was gone.
