Chapter 38 Solveig
Though her position as general was in jeopardy, Solveig wouldn’t shirk her responsibility to her people.
As she did before her capture, she passed loaves of bread out to the families of her soldiers, especially those in need.
She could feel the prince’s stare on her, already attuned to the weight of it, but she didn’t look back.
Her head pounded from the relentless onslaught of her magic. She needed to talk to Laeknir about it but hadn’t yet told anyone about its awakening. Though she didn’t want others to know, this constant pressure was putting her on edge.
Under the guise of delivering more bread, she entered Signe and Idunn’s tent, finding them tangled up in bed along with Veda and her husband, fast asleep.
She smiled at their naked forms and peaceful faces, regretful that she had to wake them.
She coughed lightly and her three shieldmaidens jerked to attention immediately.
Veda’s husband groaned, covering his face with a pillow.
“Don’t you all look cozy,” Solveig said with a smile.
Signe grinned back while they searched for their clothing. “Let us know if you ever want to join in. We’d gladly kick this sad sack out of our little group for you,” she said, nudging the male still in the bed. Veda shoved her playfully and leaned in to kiss the top of her husband’s head.
“I’m sorry to interrupt the love fest,” Solveig said sincerely. “I need a word with you.”
Solveig filled them in on Conalle’s plan with the prince. She wanted extra eyes on him at all times. The prince was not to be left alone for a moment during his stay. He had secrets and Solveig would have them exposed.
Their expressions turned grave as they considered the ramifications of Solveig’s words.
They agreed, of course, and when Solveig left their tent, she heard them making a plan while disrobing to get back into bed.
She smiled at the sound of Veda’s husband’s rough laugh followed quickly by a deep moan. She left them to it.
She greeted her people as she strode through camp, stopping to check in with them before making her way to the jarl’s tent last.
Solveig was the general of the army and the head of this war camp, but with their growing population, she had appointed a clan leader to oversee civilian issues.
She’d put off her visit to Quillon long enough.
She wanted an update on how her people were faring, what they needed, and how she could be of service.
She also wanted to ask his opinion on Latham’s short stint of leadership. Though he was only one vote, his voice carried weight within their clan.
The jarl was already outside his tent when she rode up.
He greeted her with a fist to his chest and a deep bow.
She returned the gesture. Quillon Bjornson had earned her respect, and she greatly appreciated his kind yet firm leadership.
She dismounted Helle and tied her to the post. Solveig gave her an apple and handed the rest of the loaves to Quillon.
The jarl would know which families needed the food most.
He gestured for her to follow him into his tent, where his wife was tending to their new addition. Solveig grinned at the babe asleep in his mother’s arms. Quillon kissed his Hjarta before she left to put the baby down.
“How is the newest Quillonson?” she asked.
“He’s a right near perfect babe, as feisty as his sister was,” Quillon said with pride in his voice.
“And does he have a name yet?”
“Not yet, no. We’re waiting a bit to see his character grow.” Solveig understood. The Vanir took great pride in naming their offspring—it was not taken lightly. “So, General Tordottir, what can I help you with, aside from distributing the food?”
“I’m sure you have an idea of what I need to discuss with you.” He nodded solemnly, and when he didn’t say anything, dread pooled in her stomach. “I’m here to ask you—”
“Before you continue, I’ll tell you what I told Captain Arlanson,” he interrupted. “I am loyal to the people first and foremost. Whoever is in their best interest is who I will support. I cannot be swayed by flowery words and empty promises.”
“Latham has been here.” It was not a question, but he answered her readily.
“Yes. The captain has been . . . persistent.” Solveig was worried for all of two seconds before she caught the irritation in the jarl’s voice and the deep frown on his usually friendly face.
“I see. Well, one of the reasons I wished to speak with you was about my position, yes. However, I was going to ask you to tell me about the months I was missing. I’m sorry for not being here sooner to discuss it, but it has been a difficult transition for me.
” The fact that she could even admit that spoke volumes of how much she trusted the male.
His face softened and he looked a little chagrined.
“Yes, of course, General Tordottir. I’m sorry for assuming.”
“Please do not apologize for upholding the integrity of your post.”
He nodded. “I’m not sure what you’ve already heard, but I will try to give you a succinct account of what happened.”
“I would greatly appreciate that, and please do not try to spare my feelings.”
He took a deep breath. “The beginning was chaos. When the raiders returned, families rushed out to see who’d made it home.
Sighs of relief were heard all through the camp at the reunions.
” That made Solveig smile. “But when Latham, not you, brought up the rear, we were shocked. I honestly don’t know how long the silence lasted.
Then everyone was yelling over each other with questions and accusations.
Gerrie called a clan meeting, and within ten minutes, everyone was gathered to hear what happened.
“The captain was not there to defend himself—Laeknir had taken him immediately to the infirmary. You would’ve thought the people were ready to storm the hospital with torches and pitchforks. Gerrie was not forgiving in her telling.
“You were probably right to not make her your second—she was quite frightening.” Solveig chuckled at that, but her laughter died quickly as he continued.
“It took Captain Arlanson about three days to recover, and in that time, Maddock returned. Gerrie informed us of his desertion, but he came back to Vanaheim bandaged up, telling us he had been struck with a poison and had to leave or face death. I do not wish to speak ill of other realms, but I don’t trust Jotunheim or its prince.
“Unfortunately, most believed him, and Maddock spoke in favour of Captain Arlanson, calling him a hero.
Gerrie was furious. But the seeds of doubt were sown, and when the captain gathered the legion, he told a harrowing version of the story in which his misdemeanour was but a small step outside the lines rather than the disgraceful choice it was.
“He quickly established his place as general and buckled under Jotunheim’s pressure to ally with them. He demoted several people and promoted others, currying much favour.”
He paused while Solveig took it all in. She hadn’t known such changes had occurred. By the look of things, Quillon didn’t agree with Latham’s choices.
“Who exactly did he replace?” Solveig asked hesitantly. Quillon took a deep breath.
“All the females.”
A heartbeat passed before Solveig’s magic surged, the air charging around her. The jarl seemed confused about where the shift had come from. She stilled, trying to calm herself.
“All the females?”
He nodded.
“Including Gerrie?”
Rage crossed Quillon’s face and Solveig abruptly stood. What. The. Fuck. Gerrie hadn’t told her this.
She tried to keep her voice steady. “Thank you. I’ll be back to hear the rest, but I have some business I must attend to.”
Quillon nodded in understanding. “I am sorry for all that you endured, General Tordottir. Your loss was felt here. Captain Arlanson has pretty words and grand promises, and I will always support those who act over those who simply speak.”
“Thank you, Jarl Bjornson.” She untied Helle and walked her back to the stables.
A lethal calm settled over her, drawing whispers as rage sprouted inside her, filling her with determination.
She could not let this go unpunished, position be damned.
She took her time with Helle, letting the emotions move through her.
Making a rash decision wouldn’t help, especially not in front of her people.
Within minutes of exiting the stables, she heard the sounds of running footsteps. Soon enough, Gerrie caught up to her.
“Solveig, what’s happening?” Solveig could not answer. “People are nervous, and I’m not surprised. You look like . . . Well, you look fucking pissed.”
“I am fucking pissed, Gerrie.” She whirled on her. “How could you not tell me?” she hissed. Gerrie stared blankly at her until it clicked. Solveig had rarely seen Gerrie falter.
“You were dealing with so much and I didn’t want—” But Solveig’s glare silenced her.
“How could you keep this from me? You tell me I need to deal with my problems. That I’m not fit to lead, and then I hear you’ve been keeping this from me? How can I lead when I don’t trust my people?” Gerrie flinched as though Solveig had struck her, but Solveig was past caring.
Her rage was an inferno, and she set her sights on the one who’d lit the flame.
Latham stood with a group of males outside the dining hall. They were laughing and joking around in the deserted camp, with most of the clan inside the hall or eating in their tents. Little did they know a storm was headed their way.
Solveig was vaguely aware of the dining hall door opening and the prince and his companions exiting the building. She immediately sensed his eyes on her, but her course was set on Latham.
She didn’t attempt to hide the sound of her pounding footsteps. Latham’s back was to her, but the faces around him fell and they took a step backwards before he twisted to face her.