Chapter 33
Solveig watched from her rooms as the prince took off like the speed of the sea itself. He did not look back, nor did she expect him to.
Her unbidden tears followed the tracks down her face. She’d had to rewrite the letter three times so no tears stained the pages. It was so new, this . . . this feeling for him.
So new and yet doomed from the very start.
Her heart broke as a sudden blast of pain overwhelmed her, mixing with her own. It vanished as quickly as it had come. The prince was blocking himself from her. She almost sent her own pain back but kept it buried, not wanting to make the separation harder than it already was.
Instead of wondering why this was so difficult, she buried the questions deep within herself. It would do no good to dwell on what could not be.
Without meaning to, she thought of Latham. When she had a similar conversation with him, he fought her. He blamed her, argued, guilted her. His feelings were more important than anything else, even more than her own decisions.
Before, she’d thought it had been a sign that he loved her too much. But now she knew—it was because he was selfish.
The prince’s affection—she would not think of the word he’d said—was built on respect, and so he’d left without argument. He may hate her for it, but after the dust settled, she knew he would understand, even if he didn’t like it.
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.”
“As do she and I,” Steffen countered with a wicked grin, much to Vali’s surprise. He looked to Solveig to confirm, but her face gave nothing away. She was dying inside, but at least she could have fun with these two.
“Be that as it may,” Vali continued, though not as confidently, “Solveig is a serious person, and she has no need of a partner who makes light of every situation.”
“That’s exactly why I would make the better suitor. She needs someone who can brighten her day, help bring some joy to her life,” Steffen countered.
“You could always share her!” Conalle interrupted. Solveig and the two princes turned on their horses to face the lord, varying displays of amusement in their expressions.
“What?” the Fae lord exclaimed. “Why choose, Sol?” he asked with a waggle of his brows. Why choose indeed?
Solveig flashed a wicked smile in his direction before turning around.
“I think,” Gerrie interrupted from beside Conalle, “that it depends entirely on who is better in bed. You are both fine Elven and would make great husbands, so it all comes down to your skills in the bedroom. Solveig, which one was better?”
But Solveig was no longer paying attention. Her mind was elsewhere, following the beating heart of another who moved farther and farther away with each of her rapid breaths.
“Solveig?” Conalle’s voice jarred her from her thoughts.
“Sorry, what?”
“Nothing,” Vali and Steffen muttered at the same time.
Solveig needed some space to breathe. Her magic was weak and her current emotions were not enough to fuel her power. The pull of the prince grew fainter until it was only a yearning beneath her skin.
This must be done, she repeated to herself as many times as it took to banish all thoughts of him.
Her walls came up, funnelling her emotions to her magic without letting them touch her heart, as she had taught herself to do long ago.
She gave Helle her head and they flew across the desert expanse of Asgard towards Alfheim.