He doubted it but went to do as he was told. She was going to find out very soon how demanding he could be, and then she’d be begging to follow his command. He wished he had the full force of his magic—it would make this so much easier.
It was getting harder and harder to concentrate on anything else, but there was a Helhound after his mate and it was not the right time for those thoughts, so he worked quickly, climbing up the side of the cave.
He worked his way from back to front, ensuring the cave didn’t collapse prematurely. He hammered fissures in the rock with his sword and worked on the weak spots, slashing and loosening the pieces.
The sounds of Solveig fighting the beast below urged him on.
Almost done?she called. He grunted with the effort of loosening a boulder, the ground shifting beneath him.
Yeah, start making your way to the front. And so help me, Solveig, if you die because of this hair-brained idea of yours, I will never let you liveit down. I’ll spend our eternity here in Hel reminding you every day that it was your fault that we ended up trapped here, that you—
I got it, thanks for the vote of confidence.She sent him a picture of her raising her middle finger.
He prayed to the gods out of habit and slammed the hilt of his sword into the weakest spot on the ceiling of the cave.
The ground rumbled beneath him as rocks began to crumble, slowly at first. He only had a moment to jump out of the way, landing on solid rock next to the cave, watching the entrance and praying he’d see his mate come through.
Where the fuck are you?
No answer.
Solveig!
The last of the rocks came crashing down, a cloud of grey and black dust puffing up. The Hel beast roared, trapped inside the cavern. It most likely had other ways to escape—tunnels that led around the realm—but he couldn’t get out here anymore.
“Solveig!” Westley yelled, jumping down, fear trickling through his veins when she still didn’t reply. Dust clouded the air, and he covered his mouth as he continued his search.
Fuck, Sol, where are you?
Therockswereheavyon top of her as she came to, coughing and sputtering. Dust coated her mouth and throat when she pulled in a ragged breath. The sound of Westley calling her name grew more and more frantic.
I’m fine, she mumbled. It was slightly concerning that she was muddled, even in her thoughts.
Relief and anger filtered through the bond.Fuck you. Where are you?
I’m in a meadow surrounded by wildflowers, she shot back.
You’re insufferable.
I’m under some rocks, Prince.
Are you able to move at all?
I’m trying.Solveig shifted, pushing against the weight that pressed on her back. She heard the low rumble of the hound beneath the debris and shuddered, trying to get more range of movement. Pain shot through her leg as she yanked it out from beneath a rock.
You’re hurt?Westley asked, his mind bursting with alarm.
Only a little.
I don’t trust your word. That could mean you were skewered through the chest.He would bring up the time she had been lightly stabbed. The sword hadn’t even gone all the way through her.
I lived, didn’t I?
His sigh was audible—he was close. She tried to move around, but the weight was too heavy.
I see the rocks moving, hang on.
Solveig heard his footsteps and his grunts of exertion before the weight on top of her began to shift. She helped as best she could from underneath. All at once, the weight was alleviated, and her lungs filled with dusty air as she took in a deep breath—as deep as she could manage while coughing.
