He was already shaking his head, his mind refusing to consider the ramifications of her words. “One journal proves nothing.”
“Take a look at the other works. Compare them. No history contains all truths, but piecing them together, you will see.”
Westley wondered what she meant as she led them back towards his chair. He placed the books on the table, daunted at his task.
“I will leave you,” she said, making to step away. But Westley reached out and grabbed her hand.
“How did you know I was here? Why did you come?” he asked without taking his eyes from the table.
“I awoke restless and then I ... I realized the distress wasn’t my own. The feeling led me here, to you.”
Westley nodded, throat thick with emotion. She slipped her hand from his and he didn’t stop her as she left. He sat down, staring at the tower of books, the feeling of dread and unease curling around his insides.
This couldn’t be.
Solveig turned when she reached the door, meaning to ask if he needed anything else, but what she saw stopped her.
Westley sat with his head in his hands, his fingers buried in his hair. He stared at the books in front of him, tears trickling down his face.
Not wanting to interrupt, she whispered, “May Odin grant you truth,” so faintly she knew he couldn’t hear. She stepped through the door and closed it quietly, giving him privacy to sort through his thoughts. The way to her room felt long, arduous, like moving against the tide that wanted to pull her back.
She was about to ascend the final staircase to her rooms when a figure emerged from the shadows. The dagger she had strapped to her thigh was in her hand a moment later, staying raised when Noren appeared.
“Where is he?” Noren demanded.
“He is not to be disturbed,” she answered coolly, her grip on the dagger tightening.
“You cannot keep him from me,” Noren said, taking a step closer.
“I’m not keeping him from you, I’m giving him space,” she said with a sigh.
“You’re poisoning his mind, filling his head with conflict.”
“Do you really think your prince so weak of mind that one idea could destroy his entire faith?”
“No, I think he’s so obsessed with you he pays no mind to reason.”
Solveig scoffed. “I am not the one who broke his trust.”
“You are the one who set him on this path.”
“You’re wrong. He has seen cracks in Idavoll’s foundation, and for the first time in his life, he’s acknowledging it. That is what’s destroying him. If you fight against this, if you try to stop him, his trust in you will be broken as well.”
Noren’s face fell, anger melting away as insecurity bloomed. “What do I do?”
“You listen with an open mind and heart. You hear what he has to say.”
“But what he’s saying is wrong and I can prove it.”
“And he is learning that truth is not so black and white. Our world was formed by destruction, and destruction causes even the most level-headed being to succumb to their high emotional state. History can never truly be known—there is fallacy in written words and stories passed down through generations.”
Noren was shaking his head again. “But there are facts.”
“What are facts about history besides one person’s perception of them?”
“You use your words to confuse, witch.”
“No, Noren, I use my words to help open your mind. There’s more than meets the eye and your prince is starting to see that.”
