“While all this violence is fun,” Vali whispered playfully, “I would much rather spar without an audience, in the comfort of my bed.”
She laughed off his joke, slumping in his arms, allowing the sudden dead weight of her body to surprise him enough that she could throw him out of her head. And not a moment too soon.
A roar sounded in her mind, echoing loudly and reverberating off the walls of her mental shield. Her earlier headache intensified, pain prickling behind her eyes.
What the fuck is happening?the prince yelled.
Just a fight between friends.She tried to reassure him, though he seemed beyond reason. Vali chose that moment to attempt to re-enter her mind. The prince’s loud outburst shifted to a lethal quiet.
Who the fuck was in your head?he hissed.
Vali. Don’t worry, he means no harm.
She sent an image of what she’d done and he relaxed a little, though tension hovered in the background. Laying a soft hand on his mind, she shoved and sealed him out.
Her focus returned to Vali as she aimed to kick his legs out from under him, but she was unsuccessful. He dodged her fist to his face, a dagger appearing in his hand as he swung, wielding weapons and magic in tandem.
The prince’s cool magic slid through her body, fortifying her.
Let me know if you need any help.The words filtered into her mind as hefaded away.
She was grateful for the extra support, her barriers now stronger than ever—unable to even feel Vali trying to get back in, though the concentration on his face told her otherwise.
A full smile pulled her face taut as she bared all her teeth.
She punched Vali, tackling him to the ground and knocking his dagger from his hold. He broke their fall as they landed on the hard wooden stage, the breath leaving him in one fell swoop.
Vali tried to wrestle her off but she held firm, managing to get his arm behind his back, twisting it into submission. She placed her dagger at his throat.
“Tap out, Vali,” she whispered.
He sighed in defeat and tapped the ground three times.
Westley’srestlesslegbouncedas he waited for any sign that Solveig needed him.
He had helped reinforce her walls, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t in danger. His body burned with the need to protect her, even though logically he knew she was fine on her own.
There was nothing logical about his feelings for her.
The Elven prince’s presence in her mind had infiltrated his dreams, and he’d awoken with a start, making Easta jump where she sat on watch, likely plotting some sort of scheme.
Solveig was fine, he assured himself. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts of her and bring his attention back to the matter at hand.
From the small window in the closet, the sun’s light was beginning to reach them—it was now or never to sneak out of the keep while they still had the chance. He woke North as silently as he could manage, and they all agreed to make a break for it.
Easta eased the door open, checking to see if the hallways were clear. She nodded, and the three snuck out of the closet. For as much grief as Westley used to give North, she was the best at navigating and had likelykept track of the way they were led in. Though it would not be the most direct path, all that mattered was finding Noren, Viggo, and Brenna and getting the Hel out of there.
Westley gripped the handle of a broomstick he’d dismantled, brandishing it in front of him as they quickened their pace. North led them around bend after bend.
The maze that was this mortal keep was astounding. The stone walls seemed to go on forever.
Apprehension pricked at the back of his neck, the quiet eerie. Yesterday the halls had been bustling with mortals carrying out their duties, but now they were empty. An uneasiness settled in Westley’s stomach.
“North,” he whispered.
“I know,” she said.
“You both think it’s a trap too?” Easta chimed in from behind him.
