Chapter 20
Apatrol lap would help Latham work off these unnerving feelings. When he reached the stable, he found Gerrie saddling Helle.
“What are you doing?” he asked. Gerrie huffed, not paying him any attention. He guessed their truce was over.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” she retorted.
“It looks like you’re taking Helle out.”
“I’m bringing her to Sol. I asked if she wanted to go for a ride.”
“You can’t be serious. She’s not well enough for that!”
“You heard Laeknir. She’s physically fine. It’s her soul that needs healing.”
Latham shook his head. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“Good thing no one’s asking you.” She brushed past him with Helle’s reins in one hand and her horse’s in the other.
Latham bridled and saddled Blesi and took off in the opposite direction. As he neared the entrance to the camp, he saw a familiar head of blond hair up ahead. Guilt ate through his insides. Though he wanted to avoid her, he couldn’t when she caught sight of his approach and smiled at him.
Trella was beautiful with her long curly blond hair. Her slender limbs were strong, but he knew how soft she was. She gazed at him with sultry blue eyes, full lashes fluttering as she dragged her gaze down the length of his body.
“Is everything okay?” she asked, easing her horse beside him.
“Apparently I’m not allowed to apologize to Solveig,” he muttered.
When she continued to follow him towards the gates, he said quickly, “You don’t have to come out on patrol with me.
” She’d just spent the last few hours teaching witchlings to ride so he was hoping she was too tired to come with him.
“Nonsense. I want to ride with you,” she answered with a smile. He couldn’t very well ask her for space, that would go over about as well as trying to tell Gerrie what to do.
They trotted beside each other through the gates, turning left and continuing at a steady pace to patrol the outside walls.
“I know you feel guilty about what happened, but it’s not your fault she was taken,” she said when they were alone.
Latham sighed. They’d had this conversation before.
Trella had never been a fan of Solveig. He and Solveig were older than Trella, and according to Trella, Solveig had snubbed her attempts at friendship when they were young. Latham had no memory of the slight, but Trella assured him that it was Solveig, and not he, who had treated her poorly.
Although he didn’t remember any specific details of Trella from that time, Solveig had always been more reserved with those she didn’t know. It was hard for her to let people in, and she often came off as rude, but he wouldn’t try to defend her to Trella—she would see it as siding with Solveig.
“And besides, if you really think about it, all of this could have been avoided if she had allowed you to go on the raid. It was selfish of her to hold you back,” she said passionately. Her face was set in distaste, and he could tell she truly believed what she was saying.
After Solveig was captured and the initial shock and despair had subsided, he’d been so angry with her. He’d had the same thoughts Trella just voiced. When he’d tried to speak with Gerrie about it, she was appalled and swung her spear at him, cracking two of his ribs.
He unconsciously rubbed the spot. He hadn’t let himself think that way since and had instead buried himself in guilt. But when Trella voiced it, it didn’t strike him as preposterous. Plus, Solveig was back. She had survived.
Anger stretched its sleeping limbs inside him.
How dare she ban him from the raids. All he had tried to do was help. He just wanted to protect her and instead, she’d forced his hand. And then she foolishly jumped in to save him, getting herself captured.
If she hadn’t been so bullheaded this never would’ve happened. He could’ve fought off those captors if he hadn’t been distracted when Solveig appeared.
The justifications swirled around in his head. For months all he’d allowed himself to think and feel was guilt and shame, and it was a relief to feel the weight of what happened leave his shoulders.
Trella beamed at him when he started nodding in agreement.
“See, it makes sense! It’s obviously terrible what happened to her, but she brought it on herself.” She reached out and grabbed his hand. “You’re a good male, Latham. You’ve carried this guilt for too long. She’s back and you’ve apologized. That’s all you can do.”
He squeezed her hand back. It wasn’t his fault Laeknir wouldn’t let him speak his feelings, or that Solveig wasn’t responding to him.
He’d done what he could. Another sigh left him, but this time it was one of relief.
He smiled at Trella and then with a wink, he took off in a gallop to race around the perimeter.
Trella regarded Latham ahead of her, urging her horse to catch up with him. She was glad he was finally listening to her about Solveig.
She wrinkled her nose. Even thinking her name made her skin heat. Perfect Solveig with her perfect life. It was about time she got what she deserved. No one was that pure, and Trella would bet anything she was holding some dark secret.
Trella had paid attention to her as they grew. She’d once admired Solveig so much that she’d cut her hair in the same fashion and taken all the same training classes. While Solveig was a gifted fighter, Trella had to work twice as hard to be half as good.
When Solveig swung a sword, she was graceful and effortless. When Trella picked up the same sword, she could barely use it for more than a handful of minutes. And when she’d seen Solveig exit Latham’s tent all those years ago, she’d cried.
Because as much as she wanted to be Solveig, she had wanted Latham to be hers even more. Now that she had him, all he could think about was Solveig. Just when things were settling down, he had to go and rescue her.
This past week had been torture. It was Solveig this and Solveig that.
Nothing Trella did distracted him from not being able to visit the witch.
She had even come to bed naked every night and had been as unselfish a lover as possible, taking nothing for herself but giving him her mouth, her hands, her body, trying to ease his tension.
He enjoyed himself—he was only a male, after all, and they were easily distracted—but as soon as he finished, he went right back to stressing over Solveig.
Trella almost caught up to Latham but held her horse back to let him hold the lead. That’s where he should be. Not at the feet of a cold-hearted female, but in control with someone behind him who could support him. She smiled to herself. Latham was hers, and she would not give him up.
And by the grace of the gods, she would help him take Solveig’s place. Then, finally, Trella would be above her.
They finished their patrol hours and made their way back to Latham’s tent. Trella had started leaving some of her things behind every time she stayed the night, and now her own tent was practically bare.
She entered first and began slowly undressing. Latham was brooding again, and she wanted him to focus on her, not on her.
The horrible pants she had to wear while giving riding lessons were the first piece of clothing she slipped off, revealing the impractical underclothes.
Latham stepped into her from behind, his fingers tracing the bare skin on the outsides of her thighs.
He dragged his hands up her body and under the tunic she still wore.
Gripping the hem of the shirt, he brought it over her head and tossed it to the ground.
Trella stuck her hips back, grinding against him, causing him to suck in a breath.
Undoing the binding on her breasts, he palmed her roughly.
She preferred gentler sex, but she would give Latham whatever he needed.
He was still fully clothed and that just wouldn’t do.
She twisted to undress him, but he held her to him, pushing himself against her backside.
His teeth scraped her skin before he sucked her neck.
She moaned for him as he walked them to the bed and pushed her onto her hands and knees.
Her ass stuck in the air when he pulled back to drop his pants.
When he pressed back into her, his hard length rested between her cheeks. He parted her with his fingers, moving her panties to the side and using her wetness to coat himself before pushing inside her.
His pace was hard and rough, but Trella moaned for him, encouraging him to take and take from her. Her face hit the mattress as he thrust into her. His fingers fumbled for her clit but she wasn’t concerned with her own pleasure. She cried out for him anyway.
He pounded with abandon, and she held on until he let out a grunt as he hit his release. He slumped over her and they toppled on the bed together.
“Thank you,” he whispered in her ear. Trella smiled as his breathing deepened. She would not let Solveig take him from her.
No matter what she had to do.