If they didn’t find them, the party would have to go on without them. Westley had half a mind to give up and leave. The sooner he was gone, the sooner he’d be able to reunite with Solveig in Idavoll.
“So, she knows who we are?” Brenna asked, continuing their earlier conversation as they made their way down yet another hallway.
“She does,” Westley said stiffly.
“And she forgives us?”
“Forgive might be a strong word, but she’s a general. She understands.”
“How big of her,” Brenna muttered.
Westley turned at her tone. “You think she lies?”
“I think she’s the daughter of the Asgardian queens.”
“Queens who have agreed to help our people, despite what my family has done. They’ve already sent aid.”
“She’s Vanir,” Brenna said, clearly trying to find anything against Solveig.
Westley stopped. Though he understood her prejudice, hearing it out loud made him ashamed he’d once thought the same way. “I’ve lived with them. They are not the barbarians we expected them to be, Brenna,” he scolded.
“Maybe, but after everything we did to her, you can’t possibly think she’d willingly help us?”
“You don’t know her.”
“And you do?” she accused with a raise of her brow.
“Not as well as I’d wish to. But I do fully respect her, and that should be enough for you to trust her as well.”
She stepped forward and slid a hand down his arm. His magic recoiled at the unwanted touch. “Well, regardless, I’m glad we will have some time alone, without her, on the journey to Midgard.”
He pushed her off in clear dismissal. “If not for the queens’ orders, I would be joining her in Alfheim.”
Hurt crossed Brenna’s features. Though he’d enjoyed their time together, it had never been serious between them.
And he had found his mate. But he would not disclose that information until Solveig knew. Which meant he planned to never speak a word of it to anyone.
Instead, he swallowed his guilt and did not further the conversation.
Apparently, she was not content to let it drop because as he turned away, she gripped his arm again. He hissed, instinctively exposing his canines to her in warning. She backed off in surprise.
“You no longer wish for me to touch you?” she asked quietly.
“No.”
Westley turned away before she could ask why and continued looking for Viggo and Noren. Brenna followed quietly behind like a wounded animal.
As far as he was concerned, they’d never been in love, had never made promises—he owed her nothing. The nights they’d spent together were before they had captured Solveig, and certainly not enough to warrant this reaction. He hadn’t been with anyone since then.
Was he a fool to miss the signs of her attachment?
Regardless, he’d always been clear with the females he bedded—he had no heart. Turned out that wasn’t quite true. His heart beat only for a Vanir witch. No one else.
Brenna was looking on the other side of the hall when her gasp and glass-plinking laugh came from a few doors down.
“Get us out of here!” came Viggo’s roar.
Westley hurried down the hallway and stopped short in the doorway. A laugh burst out of him at the sight, lifting his sunken spirits.
