Even though he would want to fight for her, he wouldn’t. He would get over it, move on from her eventually. So would she.
She stood at the open expanse of wall in her rooms until the prince of Idavoll was nothing more than a speck of sand on the horizon, until he was gone entirely. The stiffness in her body would not ease, even as she met Vali and his brothers.
They waited for her in the stables, the scene barely registering as she tried to keep her emotions from her face. Conalle laughed at something Henny was saying. Bo and Steffen argued about the best way to reach Alfheim.
Helle was already saddled and prepared to leave. Solveig bristled at someone else readying her, but she didn’t make a fuss. She wordlessly mounted and led the way, Gerrie right on her heels.
“You ready?” she asked.
“Of course,” Solveig answered without facing her.
Asgard sat on the east of their continent, with Vanaheim and the Idavoll Forest to the south and Alfheim to the west. If they hurried, it would take a week to reach the Elven palace. It would be strange to travel while not under threat.
Their company settled into an even pace, no rush necessary.
Solveig assumed the queens meant her to marry one of the four Alfheim princes, and as such, a slow journey would suit their cause.
Bo was too young, one hundred to Solveig’s four hundred and twenty-six.
Henny was everything wild and free and wanted nothing to do with marriage. He was fun, but not serious, and she could not tie herself to him.
That left Steffen and Vali.
The two elder brothers had been in constant competition since they were elflings, their powers evenly matched, leaving the heirship open. Both would make excellent kings and husbands.
Solveig already knew they were both excellent lovers.
Their singular nights together flashed through her mind, and her entire being recoiled at the memories. They didn’t seem right, didn’t fit who she was now—or rather, what fuelled her desires.
Wrong. It was wrong for so many reasons.
The wrong prince, for one.
Steffen came to ride beside her. Her heavy thoughts must have been plain on her face.
“You know, Sol, no matter what, Alfheim welcomes you with open arms.”
“You’re just saying that because you want to make Fae babies with me,” Solveig teased, though her heart wasn’t in it.
Conalle cheered from behind them, their conversation carrying.
“I won’t lie, it’s a very exciting possibility.” Steffen beamed at her.
She took in his long blond hair, thicker and wavier than his elder brother’s. His high pointed ears stuck out the sides and his brown eyes sparkled with the excitement he spoke of.
Wrong, wrong, wrong.
Steffen and Vali could be twins with how alike they looked—the same height, same eyes, but where Vali held the weight of being first-born, Steffen had all the freedom of a second born, though none of the attention. His eyes twinkled, eager for her affection.
Whereas when Vali rode up, his demeanour was one of victory.
Like it was obvious he would be her choice.
“Steffen, are you bothering our princess?” Vali asked.
“Not at all, brother, I’m merely keeping her company.”
Vali raised a brow. “You know, Solveig and I have a history.”
