“That can be arranged. You know the deal, though. I’ll need something in return.”
Westley tensed, uneasy of the direction this was heading. But he was trying to build trust with Solveig, and if she trusted whoever this male was to her, then he would have to too. Didn’t mean he had to like it.
“What is it that you wish for this time?” By the sound of Solveig’s exasperation, he’d done many favours that required a trade in the past.
Hoenir’s grin was downright fiendish. “A night with you.”
Tense silence followed Hoenir’s request. Primal rage swelled in Westley’s body. He didn’t know why. He had no claim to the witch. But imagining her with this male, with any male—he fought the urge to throw her over his shoulder and storm back into the frozen wasteland of his realm.
Probably for the best he didn’t. Last time he did that, he got stabbed.
“No,” Solveig said, standing from the table. “You know better than to ask that.”
Relief flooded him, the beast inside comforted that she would not share this male’s bed. She walked over to where Westley still stood glaring daggers at Hoenir. He didn’t like this male at all. “But you can have the prince if you’d like,” she offered.
Westley’s eyes went wide with shock, his feet rooted to the floor. How could she—
What the fuck? Please tell me this is a joke.
Trust me.Those two words. Damn her to Hel.
I’m not going to bed him, Solveig.
She snorted.You won’t have to, I promise.
“Interesting,” Hoenir muttered under his breath as he watched the silent standoff. “I accept.”
Solveig’s smile widened and Westley’s stomach dropped. What the fuck was he in for?
HoenirledWestleyupa flight of stairs as his companions watched him go.
Noren had tried to argue on his behalf, but the deal was already struck, leaving Westley wondering what the Hel just happened and why he had agreed.
He knew why though. Solveig had asked him to trust her, so he would. If he wanted any chance to ally with her, he had to try.
The male led him up the longest flight of stairs Westley had ever climbed, and when they reached the top, he was sucking down air in big gulps. Hoenir showed no signs of exertion, so Westley tried to contain his heavy breathing as much as possible. Hoenir smirked over his shoulder.
“Through here please, Your Highness.” Hoenir gestured to the door at the end of the long hallway.
With every step Westley took, the hallway seemed to extend. He didn’t complain, not even when it felt like he’d been walking for an hour down the dizzying, endless corridor. What kind of magic was this? After each step he swore he would turn around, demanding an explanation.
Building up his courage, he went to turn on his heel when the door abruptly appeared in front of him, so close he almost smacked into it.Alarm pricked the back of his neck, aware that he was alone with this strange male and no one outside this house knew where he was.
It unnerved him to have Hoenir at his back, silent as a shadow, breathing down his neck. The need to protect himself propelled him to reach for his daggers. He’d felt the weight of them but when he made to unsheathe them, they were nowhere to be found.
“The house does not allow weapons,” breathed Hoenir.
Shivers curled down Westley’s spine and his magic surged in his veins, urging him to run. He thought of Solveig, cursing her in his head, and reached for the door handle. It swung open before he touched it, a blinding light spilling out. Hoenir shoved him into the room.
“What’s taking them so long?” Noren asked, pacing the length of the bedroom Solveig’d set them up in.
The previous evening, after Hoenir had led Westley away like a lamb to the slaughter, the house had directed them to this room with some of the largest, most comfortable beds Solveig had ever slept in. Despite that, she’d tossed and turned all night.
Morning had brought a renewed desire to get to Asgard. She was just as antsy to get going as Noren, the sun having stretched its rays over the sparkling snow that blanketed the ground.
Conalle picked at the breakfast the house had provided, his leg bouncing as his eyes darted between Solveig and Noren. They’d been bickering all morning, first about the magic of the house and now because of its resident.
“Hoenir asked for the night and it’s morning, so he’ll be here soon.” Solveig yawned, getting back into bed. “Don’t fret, he’ll be fine.”
