“We have not publicly named our heir. To whom could you be referring, Dayana?” Koa sounded so unfazed, it settled the feeling of unease in the hall.
Dayana’s gaze flicked to the side, landing on her claim. It was so absurd, Solveig struggled to keep her laughter contained. If she did not laugh, she might snap.
“I was chosen to marry Prince Westley Erikson, Heir of Idavoll and Asgard.”
Westley blinked in surprise at the girl. His name was the last he’d expected to hear. He wasn’t the only one shocked. The crowded ballroom that had been buzzing with noise moments ago fell silent at the declaration, the revellers too shocked to share gossip.
A hefty feat for the meddling immortals. He dared a glance at Solveig, who looked as though she was about to burst a blood vessel, a muscle twitching in her jaw.
Don’t you dare laugh,he threw her way.
Look, someone finally wants to marry you. Her inner voice laughed fully and he couldn’t help his answering smile. Dayana, unfortunately, had been looking at him and beamed, assuming the smile was meant for her. He quickly let it fall from his face.
He had to give the girl respect for her bravery. She boldly strode over to where Westley stood and knelt at his feet in a smooth, fluid motion. She had grace but it was practised, honed.
“My prince, my king,” she said, looking up through thick lashes. He felt Solveig stiffen, all sense of humour gone. The girl was serious. Her addressing him as king would not go over well if he did not tread these shark-infested waters carefully.
“Stand up, Miss Langley,” Westley muttered.
“Please, call me Dayana.” She smiled as she got to her feet, standing much too close to him. He shifted away from her, yet she followed.
“This is very interesting,” Koa mused from her throne, sharing an odd smile with Aelfsi.
Aelfsi had been tense a moment before, but now both queens were far too relaxed given the circumstance. What did they know that he didn’t?
Koa continued, “It is certainly unprecedented for a mortal to be given such powers to See not only her marriage to a Fae prince, but also to proclaim him the heir of Asgard.”
Tension coiled in the air as the hall began to separate into realms. The Idavoll Fae gathered behind his parents, some standing behind North, showing their allegiance. Westley also took a step back.
“I am not the heir of Asgard, nor do I have designs to rule Idavoll,” he said firmly.
Dayana made to follow him, but Solveig interrupted. “How do you know this, girl?”
The mortal did not take her eyes off Westley, her stare becoming possessive. “I told you, Your Highness, I have Seen it.”
“Can you prove you possess this gift of Sight?” Solveig asked.
“I can,” the mortal girl said, finally looking up at her. When the girl did nothing, Solveig cocked a brow.
“Care to show us all your blessed gift?”
“As you are a Vanir, Princess Solveig, you must know visions cannot always be called upon at will.”
“Then you must pardon my skepticism. It is possible for that which has never happened to come to pass, but you must understand that we cannot believe this bold claim simply because you say it is so.”
“I understand you may have a limited view of what is possible,” Dayana said. Westley braced for Solveig’s reaction to the girl’s impertinence.
Solveig only laughed. “How old are you?”
“I have half a turn left in my nineteenth year.”
Westley’s stomach curdled. Though mortals matured at a much faster rate than the Fae, nineteen was so fucking young.
“Then let me understand this, child. You wish to marry Prince Westley, one who is over four centuries older than you?” Solveig asked. He was glad she was voicing his inner thoughts because he was still too stunned to speak.
“I see no reason to delay. It is, in fact, inevitable.”
“How so?”
