Solveig’s scream rang in Westley’s ears as his lungs breathed in Loki’s shadows. The last thing he saw before the shadows took him was his mate on her knees, tendrils of lightning covering her entire body as she roared.
But her light did not reach him—only her last words.
I love you.
Solveigwasblownbackby the force of Loki’s shadows as he vanished, whipping her across the cavern.
When the shadows cleared, the space was dark and empty, no power save for her own.
The only sound was her heavy breathing, her broken sobs as she knelt on the floor, still damp from Westley’s tidal wave. She dug her hands into the ground, trying to feel his lingering power in the pools of water, but he was gone.
He was gone.
He’d sacrificed himself for her. He felt he had more to atone for. Even after the lake, after everything they’d been through, he still didn’t believe he deserved forgiveness.
And it was her fault. Her nightmares still woke her from sleep. She bore the scars.
She hadn’t been able to stop her response in the tunnel at the palace, and then in the cave when he stood over her—the memories flashed in her eyes and her body reacted. He’d been punishing himself for it ever since.
Her mate.
She tried to find him through their bond but couldn’t. He was lost in Loki’s shadows.
Solveig’s mind whirled with all the information she’d learned.
As much as Westley had been deceived by his upbringing, so had she. They’d all been pawns, since the beginning of their new world.
They were still controlled by the gods—played like pieces in a game. And Loki—
Fucking Loki.
Her father. The shadows in her soul answered the revelation.
Deep in her bones, she knew it was true. The battle she’d waged against her birthright of darkness, the gift of light she’d inherited—it was all because of bloodshed and trickery.
And her mother, her mother was Frigg. She had no memories of her, but Koa had told her the stories of how great a Seer she was, how just and true.
All fucking lies.
Did Koa know? Did Aelfsi?
Solveig was beginning to understand Westley on a deeper level. Finding lies hidden in the truth was its own betrayal, the way it cracked the very foundation on which her life was built. The struggle to trust, to believe anything more than what could be touched.
The lies ran so deep, she didn’t know how to separate herself from them without burning the fucking world down.
And she would if she had to.
Memories of fleeing with the Southern Wilds flitted through her mind.
Whenever they reached a new encampment, they had to clear a large rough space for her people to thrive. They tried to preserve the land not by destroying, but replanting.
She thought of it now, of moving a tree without harming it. But the larger the tree, the deeper the roots, the harder it was to remove without damage.
Sometimes they came across trees that were so dependent on their root systems that one rotten tree destroyed the rest. They had tried to move the healthy trees to better soil.
At first the trees did not respond, too hurt by the extraction, by the uprooting. But as the years went by, the trees began to thrive, on their own and together in a new area without the disease.
Yggdrasil was built on lies and deceit, bloodshed and shadow. Solveig felt that upheaval in her own soul—felt it as Westley had when he learned the truth about Idavoll and his grandfather. The image of him poring over books in the library was permanently etched in her memory.
