“I got out,” she yelled again and again. With each strike, he barely managed to hold her off until he couldn’t any longer and he lay flat on his back.
“I’m sorry,” he tried as she loomed over him, her sword raised.
“Solveig,” he said in warning. Pleading. He was defenceless and her next blow would surely be fatal. But she was lost to her fear. The scent of it washed over him, like it had every day in the cave.
She brought her sword over her head and the clouds above darkened with her rage. A flash of light speared the sky, cracking a boulder off the waterfall, sending it careening over the edge and into the pool below.
“I got out!”
Her words sliced through him, cutting the promise he’d made to himself to never speak the truth.
“I GOT YOU OUT!” he yelled.
A tidal wave of water rose behind him, hovering before crashing down, drenching them both in frigid water.
Westleyscrambledtohisfeet, bracing himself before her.
They stood staring at each other, chests heaving, frozen in place. Her weapon had fallen to the ground with the impact of the wave.
No one moved for a heartbeat. And then another.
“What did you say?” Solveig finally whispered, water trickling down her face. She was soaked through, but her numbness had nothing to do with the cold water.
“What?” Conalle and Noren parroted.
The prince’s chest rose as he straightened, dragging in a ragged breath, running his hands through his sopping-wet hair.
“I helped get you out,” he admitted again, so quietly she barely heard the words.
“Explain,” Noren demanded.
Solveig couldn’t take her eyes off the prince, unable to even breathe properly. He took another deep breath, staring right back.
An unreadable emotion flashed across his face, but her mind overflowed with confusion. She didn’t dare reach out. She kept herself locked down.
When he spoke, her world spun.
“The moment I stuck you with that needle and caught you in my arms, my magic stirred. Not that I realized what it was at the time.”
“Did you know who I was?” she asked quietly, unable to stop herself from interrupting him.
“No.”
Something in her loosened at his answer. For a beat, it seemed like he was waiting for her to say something else. When she didn’t, he continued.
“Any time I came near you, it got more painful. I thought the pain was a warning. You were not trustworthy—someone to fear. It didn’t cross my mind that you were the general because you weren’t male. Which meant you must have been something far worse to provoke such a reaction.
“So I guarded you. I watched you. I feared you. I observed your strength, felt your power, and after the first week, I knew we wouldn’t be able to break you. Nothing Booth did would break you.
“For the first time in centuries, I began to doubt my purpose. Maybe this wasn’t the way to go about things. Anyone with your strength deserved better.
“I tried to ease my guilt. I gave you my clothes when Booth wanted to leave you naked. I took more shifts guarding you, keeping you as safe as I could. When it wasn’t enough, I watched. I witnessed.”
Westley tore his gaze away from her and rolled up his shirt sleeve. His forearm rippled as he clenched his fist. Bringing his gaze back to her, he stepped closer so she could see the tattoo of the wolf.
She’d seen it before but had never studied it this closely. The tail was a cluster of small dots and marks, the darker lines bleeding into faded ones.
“The lines are for the days I allowed it to go on, eighty-nine, and the dots are your screams.” His voice broke on the last word. He cleared his throat before continuing. “I counted, and at the end of each day, Imarked them on my skin as they are marked in my soul. Three thousand, five hundred and thirty-six.”
