Make sure you bring her alone—we do not want word getting back to Asgard about her whereabouts. Do not let her out of your sight. She is the key to Idavoll’s ruin and must be stopped. Lure her any way you have to, but get her here quickly. The gods demand it, as do we.
With love, my son,
Mother.’”
Conalle went rigid, reading over her shoulder as if he had to see it with his own eyes. His eyes darkened with mistrust. “West?”
He didn’t know how to explain without her hating him. How could he tell her he needed her to help save his people?
That’s why he had to get her to Idavoll, why he’d do anything to ensure it.
He swallowed hard. “I wasn’t planning to let them hurt you, Solveig, you have to know that.”
“How am I supposed to trust you?” she snarled, trembling with rage.
“I didn’t have all the logistics sorted out yet, but I had a plan.” Westley winced as the words left his mouth. He hadn’t meant to phrase it like that.
“You had a plan? Did your plan involve asking me?” she hissed.
He grimaced. “I wasn’t sure if you would go willingly, so—” He scrambled for anything to help her understand.
Solveig’s voice lowered. “You meant to capture me again?”
“No.” He shook his head violently, like that would convince her he was telling the truth. “I want to prove to them that you are the opposite of our ruin—that you want to help, and not just Asgard but the world. I want to change their minds.”
“Their minds cannot be swayed so easily, Westley,” Conalle censured.
“After everything you’ve already put me through, you expect me to believe you?” Solveig hissed, drawing her sword. Magic charged the air between them, the hair rising on the back of his neck.
Oh shit.
Westley put his hands up in a show of peace. “I want them to see you as you are, Solveig, what a powerful ally you could be. Ragnvald will not be in Idavoll. We only have to sway my parents. North and Easta already fight the same fight you do. They didn’t believe the mortals caused the war, and they were right.” Words spilled out from him in a rush.
She shook her head, and the small bit of hope that lived in his heart vanished at the look in her eye.
“I have given you yet another chance and you have already squandered it.”
“Solveig, please,” he begged as she advanced towards him.
“I am done with your pleases.” She slashed her sword, leaving him no choice but to defend himself, ducking and rolling away. Noren tossed him a blade and Westley caught it, straightening his stance.
“Alright then, General, let me have it,” he said, pointing the sword in her direction.
Instead of charging like he expected, she dropped her weapon and flung her magic, the blast of light shocking him to his knees. He recovered from the attack quickly, staring with a mixture of awe and anger.
A deadly combination.
Dredging up his own magic proved impossible—it was still blocked.
It raged in his veins to be let free, to answer the challenge her magic wrought.
Another bolt of light shot towards him and he blocked it with his sword, smirking when her jaw clenched in frustration at the shimmering blade. Realization dawned on her face. It was made of silver and was capable of absorbing magic.
She picked up her sword and brought her hands together to channel power into her blade. The sword glowed with energy and the metal of their blades sparked as they came together.
Each time their swords connected, her power ebbed and flowed between them. The sound of clashing metal rang in his ears, his heart pounding to the rhythm of their escalating pace.
Sweat trickled down his neck with the effort of staving her off. This was not the ease with which they’d trained together before. She was fierce in her attacks, her blows aiming to injure, while he stayed on the defensive.
