Chapter 22
Though she needed to know, it was difficult to hear Gerrie update her on everything that had happened since her capture.
Her stomach churned at the knowledge of Latham allying with Jotunheim and the consequences that would follow. Maddock and his king had their own agenda—Solveig had never trusted them. Latham knew it, and she couldn’t fathom why he’d done it. Made Maddock his advisor? What was he thinking?
She was selfish enough to dwell more on the fact that he’d broken their deal.
It was dishonourable to break an oath, especially one of that calibre.
Solveig had a hard time respecting him or even understanding it.
But Latham had always put his own opinions above his duty, so it shouldn’t have surprised her.
Gerrie was about to tell her something else concerning Latham when the breeze shifted, carrying the smell of damp moss and mildewed rocks.
The scent hit her like a shock—her body went rigid as the pain of her magic flared. She was no longer riding with Gerrie, safely atop Helle. She was transported back to the cave, chained to the floor, watching Fear stalk towards her.
A dream. This had all been a dream.
If the months of torture hadn’t broken her, this dream of hope, of escape, certainly would.
She’d made it home. She’d touched the softness of Helle’s coat and heard Gerrie’s laugh. She swore Laeknir’s gentle hands tended her wounds just this morning.
But all she knew was the terror of being trapped, dreading the pain, the helplessness as her greatest source of terror approached. Before Fear put his hands on her, she pulled at her chains and yet the oddest sensation of wind whipped through her hair.
There was no wind in the cave.
Fear transformed into him, his mouth curled up in a smile as his black eyes glittered with satisfaction at her reaction. His eyes?
Solveig froze as she recalled the shape of his face, but instead of a smile, it was contorted with pain. She’d never seen his face. How could she picture it so clearly? She had, though. The sound of his muffled screams sent a shiver down her spine as the memories came flooding back.
They slammed into her so hard that she jerked Helle to a halt, losing her balance completely. She fell, hard, to the ground and immediately curled into a ball, her body shaking.
Real. This is real. The cave is gone. He is gone. I got out. I got out. I got out. I got out.
Over and over again she thought those words in a desperate attempt to believe them.
Hugging her knees to her chest, she struggled to take deeper breaths. Her magic charged under her skin, reaching out to sense a danger that was not there. The pain of it trapped scorched her from within.
She couldn’t feel the cold ground seeping through her clothes, couldn’t take a deep breath without the scent of dank air invading her senses. Her head spun with dizzying panic as she shook with tremors of pain and fear. And the memories. Too many memories.
But when a familiar warm body enveloped hers, protecting her from the onslaught to her senses, she had something else to focus on. Her breathing deepened as Helle settled around her.
The horse she’d hardly ever spent a day away from, her closest friend. She had missed the stubborn beast dearly, so much so that it’d been hard too hard to think of her, knowing she’d likely never see her again.
Helle’s steady breath calmed Solveig’s trembling body. When Gerrie finally caught up to them, Solveig still lay on the ground, eyes squeezed shut as the violent shivers receded.
Gerrie seated herself beside them, close enough for Solveig to reach if she wanted. She was so good at silence and for that, Solveig was grateful.
She didn’t know how long they sat there.
Well, Gerrie sat—Solveig still curled on her side.
But with Helle protecting her back and Gerrie at her front, her breathing evened out.
Safe. Inhale. Safe. Exhale. Safe. Gerrie was breathing loud, dramatic inhales and exhales which Solveig had unconsciously followed.
Her eyes filled with tears and she forced herself to sit up, wobbling as she did so. Gerrie reached out to steady her, the movement so fast that Solveig flinched. Gerrie dropped her hand.
When Solveig was settled, her knees still tucked into her chest and her back leaning against Helle, she focused on Gerrie, her shieldmaiden, her friend. Thankfully there was no pity in her eyes, only concern. Solveig opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t bring herself to make a sound.
Gerrie nodded. “It’s okay. You’re not ready yet.”
Solveig swallowed the lump in her throat and slowly reached her hand forward, grasping Gerrie’s. That damn breeze blew by again and she stiffened, memories flashing before her eyes. But the feel of Helle’s warmth and the soft pressure of Gerrie’s hand kept her in the present.
“The breeze?” she asked. Solveig shook her head and Gerrie frowned, taking a few more moments to think.
“The scent?” Solveig nodded. “That makes sense. We could fashion some sort of nose plug if you’d like.
We could make it so spikes adorned the outside.
It could be fearsome.” Solveig smirked. “Pretty soon all the soldiers will be wearing some sort of nose weapon.”
Solveig’s smile vanished as another gust of wind blew the cave smell across them.
She held her breath and closed her eyes, but Gerrie gripped her harder and said quietly, “One. Two. Three.” Solveig released her breath and inhaled through the wave of nausea that accompanied that horrid smell.
Her heart rate slowed and her eyes opened again.
“You got out,” Gerrie affirmed like she could read Solveig’s mind.
I got out. I got out. I got out. I got out. Then in a small, raspy whisper, she repeated, “I got out.”
“Yes, you did.”
“I got out.” A little louder, but still just as hoarse. Her throat hurt from disuse.
“And you’ll stay out,” Gerrie said firmly. Solveig broke, tears streaming down her face as she began sobbing.
“I. Got. Out,” she cried between heaving sobs that wracked her body. She couldn’t stop the shaking as those words carved themselves into her soul.
“I GOT OUT!” she screamed, the words bursting out of her scorched throat.
Gerrie beamed at her. The trees swallowed her throaty scream, leaving no trace of the sound that still rang in Solveig’s ears.
She could speak without fear of breaking. Her words no longer needed to stay locked up for her people’s safety.
It would take some time to get used to. Even now, with only Gerrie here, fear crept into her heart. What if this was all a trick? They had forced her into hallucinations that had felt almost as real. But she never spoke in those dreams, and she spoke in this one.
She reached back to run a hand along Helle’s shining auburn coat. The feel of it as familiar as her own skin.
“I got out.” She believed it a fraction more. “This is real?” she whispered to Gerrie.
“Yes, Solveig, this is real. You are real and you are here.” Solveig nodded, but when she still showed hesitation to believe, Gerrie sighed. “How can I convince you?”
She shrugged and Gerrie was quiet for some time. Solveig recognized the quiet contemplation on her face.
“I swore I would never speak of this to anyone, but here goes. Remember that time I . . . got that rash on my lady bits?” Gerrie finally said.
Solveig snorted a laugh and nodded.
“You pushed and pushed but I never told you how I got it.”
“How could I forget?” Solveig whispered, chuckling.
Gerrie grinned. “I suppose it’s hard to forget when I was walking like a witchling with a full cloth for a week,” Gerrie said with a sigh.
Solveig smirked at her friend, grateful for the distraction.
Her friend feigned a scowl. “Well, you’d walk like that too if you had blisters the size of pine cones all up in there! ”
“The story?”
“Will it prove to you that you’re really here?”
Solveig stopped laughing at the reminder and thought about it for a moment.
“Maybe,” she responded slowly.
“Oh, I think it will.” Gerrie took in a deep, exaggerated breath.
“I was on my way back from a long visit in Alfheim with Queen Eir. It had been such a frustrating and fruitless journey, trying to get the Elven back into the Trifold so I needed some . . . tension release while we were travelling home. I didn’t want to put in the effort of bringing someone to bed, so I took matters into my own hands. ” Gerrie hesitated.
“This is not embarrassing, Ger.”
“That’s not the embarrassing part. No, um, instead of using my hands, I wanted to be a little adventurous.”
“Oh no.”
“Oh yes. You remember those fruits that grow in the trees near the Alfheim palace? Their shape is blatantly phallic.” Solveig started laughing and Gerrie glared at her. “You’ve thought it before too and you know it!”
Solveig nodded, her foreign grin making her cheeks ache.
“We’d eaten the fruit with the Elven so I didn’t think anything of it. They were ideal for what I needed, so I picked one with the perfect curve, long and thick. It was a beautiful piece of fruit really. I think you would’ve liked it, it had just the right amount of—”
“Gerrie.”
“Right, anyway, I brought it back to my tent. I got all comfy and cozy, you know how it goes. I even lit a few candles and got myself warmed up before the main event. I started with some nipple—”
Solveig lost it and fell over from laughing too hard, the lack of muscle strength to hold herself up apparent.
“I want you to get the whole picture! I was primed for it, Solveig, so ready to get a good long—”
“Gerrie, I get the picture.”
“Apparently, when you pick the fruit, you’re supposed to wear gloves and wash it because it has a toxic membrane.
I didn’t know that, so halfway through my endeavour, the burning started.
” Tears were now streaming down Solveig’s face, and Gerrie started laughing with her.
“So not only did I develop a horribly painful rash, but I didn’t even get to finish! ”
The tension in Solveig’s body eased as the females took a moment to laugh together. She was lighter, grateful for this moment with Gerrie.
“Okay, okay, I believe you. This is real,” Solveig whispered.
“Glad my shame could help.”
“There’s no way I could’ve dreamed that up.” Solveig’s laughter faded to giggling. Gerrie pretended to glare in response.
“If you breathe a word of this to anyone, anyone at all, I will go back to Alfheim, carefully pick a whole bag of those fruits, and secretly fill your bed with them.”
Solveig grinned. “I will take it to my grave,” she swore. She even put her hand over her heart in mock sincerity. Gerrie nodded seriously and then smiled. Solveig leaned back against Helle and closed her eyes.
“What if . . . What if I can’t ever escape?”
Gerrie must’ve understood she didn’t mean physically. “You probably won’t. Not fully.”
Solveig was grateful for the blunt answer. “When I close my eyes, I can feel the cave where they kept me,” she said quietly.
“Did you ever get to leave?”
“No.”
Gerrie waited for her to continue but she didn’t. “All you have to do is open your eyes and you’ll see that you’re not there anymore.”
“What if I open them and you aren’t here?” she answered quietly. The way Gerrie paused made Solveig’s heart clench. Gerrie never hesitated.
The mood shifted and Solveig knew her shieldmaiden well enough to know Gerrie was gearing up to tell her something she wasn’t going to like.
Solveig braced herself, feeling the pine needles on the ground, Helle at her back.
The clean air that carried more than just the scent of the cave.
The smell of pine, the fresh scent of Vanaheim’s change from summer to fall.
The crisp cool breeze on her skin. She grounded herself as she braced for whatever Gerrie was about to say.
“You deserve all the time you need to get through this, but unfortunately we can’t give you that.
” Solveig’s brows furrowed. When she didn’t say anything, Gerrie continued.
“When we assumed you were . . . not coming back, we had to tell the queens and explain the situation. Koa put an immediate end to the raids. Recently, Aelfsi sent word that emissaries would be arriving to establish new leadership here.” Solveig still didn’t speak or open her eyes. “Sol . . . the Fae are coming.”
“Which Fae?” Solveig whispered, dread pooling in her stomach.
“From both Asgard and Idavoll.”
Solveig’s eyes flew open and terror seared her insides, her magic flaring under her skin. She shook her head violently, as if she could shake the situation away. This couldn’t be happening. She had just gotten out.
No no no no no no.
Gerrie reached out and grabbed her other hand, letting her break until her breaths started to come easier and her head didn’t feel so light.
“When?” she whispered. When Gerrie didn’t answer right away, she asked again. “When, Gerrie?”
“Thirty days.”