Solveig glared but chose to let it go for now, turning back to Conalle.
“Now that I know what my magic feels like under my skin, I think I first felt it stir on the journey to the mortal village that day. It was buzzing in my veins, like a gradual awakening.”
“Yours broke the Block first, and then when Westley encountered you, his awoke?”
“So it would seem.”
“Do you think ...” Conalle took a breath and started again. “Could you do it for others?”
Solveig’s brows rose. “I don’t know, I’ve never tried to do it on purpose.”
“Well, now would be a good time. Once we cross into Idavoll, you can have some backup in case these Fae decide to double-cross us,” he said solemnly.
“But if you can come with me—” Westley started, but Solveig was having none of that.
“Hel if I’m going with you willingly.” She gave him a pointed look.
Westley sighed. “I’m not going to double-cross you.” He looked at Solveig. “You have my word.” Those four words were loaded with meaning. She may understand him as a general, but as a person? As a male? She ... No. She wasn’t ready to trust him.
Solveig turned to Conalle. “We can try. Remove your shirt.”
“Why?” the three Fae asked in unison, their expressions varied. It was almost comical.
“Because the core of your magic resides in your heart.” Solveig laid her hand on her chest and closed her eyes as she spoke. “That’s why mating bonds were also Blocked. It’s why Vanir’s emotions are less severe than they used to be. So I need access to your heart.” She opened her eyes.
“Okay, but why does he need to take his shirt off?” Westley grumbled.
Solveig stared hard at him. “Because, Prince, you and I feel our magic stronger when we touch skin-to-skin, so I’m assuming it will make it easier to remove the Block.”
Conalle giggled. “Oh, please tell me more about this skin-to-skin touching! That sounds intriguing.”
“Get your mind out of the gutter, Conalle. When my bare fist connects with his pretty face, I feel my magic come alive.”
He didn’t look convinced but shook his head in amusement and took his shirt off. Solveig stepped forward, placing her palm on his chest. From the corner of her eye, she saw Westley stiffen as he watched.
Noren stood rigidly at the prince’s other side, brows furrowed.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asked Westley.
“Be quiet, Noren, no one asked for your opinion,” Solveig said. He gave her the middle finger and she chuckled. But the humour quickly faded as she focused on her task.
Solveig closed her eyes, her own magic stirring under her skin, that dormant part of her responding to her will. It was still trapped, but she could see it, feel it, like it was moving underwater.
She stretched it out, reaching into Conalle’s chest, trying to get it to flow into him. She’d been expecting it to be as easy as when she had shared it with the prince, but it wasn’t. It took more effort and cooperation to direct it where she wanted it.
The air charged, the hairs rose on Conalle’s skin under her fingertips. Light faded behind her eyelids and she imagined that clouds darkened the sky.
Her magic gathered strength as she forced it into Conalle. Her hand began to glow with the intensity, finding the magic buried deep within him. She gasped as her magic reached his, finding where it was trapped.
“It’s not blocked, it’s bound,” Solveig muttered, sending more of her magic into Conalle, feeling her way around the binds. At first, they felt solid, like thick rope, but when she tugged, tendrils of shadows wisped away as though they were a living entity. Once released from their formation, they found their way to her, curling around her magic in greeting.
An idea sparked. “West,” she called. Without opening her eyes, she raised her hand, beckoning him.
She felt, rather than heard, his movements when he came to stand in front of her.
Instead of his shirt touching her palm like she’d been expecting, his cold hand gently wrapped around the back of hers and held it. Every nerve ending in her body became aware as he shifted closer and brought their hands to his chest.
Her fingers slid along the bare skin of his chest until he flattened her palm over his beating heart. He didn’t remove his hand, trapping her between the skin of his body and his firm hold. A chill washed over her body when his thumb swiped across her knuckles.
