Chapter 51
Westley paced the length of North’s rooms. Noren and Viggo had dragged him here by his sister’s order.
He had listened to North as she spoke of how the Asgardian queens had approached her with a plan after learning of Solveig’s capture. They hadn’t told her that he and Solveig were mates, but he already knew they’d figured that out just by watching them at the ball.
The queens had a lot of explaining to do, and hopefully he would hear from Solveig soon.
She was no longer depleted—he could feel her strength returning—but he would leave her to rest, knowing she needed it. But he was restless. After everything North shared, he needed to figure this out with Solveig.
After the initial fog of his animalistic instincts abated, he could listen clearly as his sister spoke to him of Idavoll’s prophecy.
Transcendent blood will bond and destroy
An unsuspecting heir falls prey to their whims
Idavoll will sink, the penance for an unbidden ploy
A mate will rise, kings shall cower, light be dimmed
Ne’er to escape the shadowed lands
Trapped in a grip too tight to break
What was once power now turned to sand
If there be not strength, a trapped darkness shall wake
A chill went down his spine when she said the words, like he’d heard them before but couldn’t place them.
It was clearly about Solveig. He didn’t quite appreciate being referred to as an unsuspecting heir falling prey, but he supposed it was true. He’d let Solveig hunt him down to the ends of Yggdrasil if that’s what she wished. She very well might.
Though a trickle of hope remained in his heart. She hadn’t outright objected to the bond. As far as he knew, however, her betrothal remained intact.
He understood now why he’d never met the queens’ daughter—why he’d heard her name but never encountered her. Anger built within him—rage at his parents for letting him believe he had no mate, that he was destined to be alone. This might very well still happen if Solveig rejected the bond.
His whole body revolted at the notion.
“So, you’re working with Asgard?” Westley asked, unable to keep the accusatory tone from his voice.
“Yes, for some time now,” his sister answered unapologetically.
Westley huffed. “Why did you not tell me?”
“You weren’t ready to hear the truth.”
“Did you ever try?”
North pinned him with a hard look. “Do you remember, about one hundred years ago, the cataclysmic fight we had that nearly took out half the south wing?”
“How could I forget? That was right after South died,” Westley replied, his voice roughened with grief.
“Souther believed with his whole being that what he was doing was right, and it led him straight to his death. I had tried to explain to you that there might be a better way, and you went off on me, nearly drowning me.” North’s face was full of sadness.
“You implied that he had died for no reason,” Westley said, his anger rising.
“No, West, I said that he died for a cause based on lies and falsehoods,” she corrected.
“That’s the same thing,” Westley exclaimed.
“No, it’s not.” She laid a hand on his arm, and he fought the urge to shake it off. “Our brother was many things but most of all he was loyal. To you, to us, to Idavoll. That is as good as any reason to die, but I did not want you following in his footsteps,” she said firmly.
“You were too stubborn to see, so I had to change tactics. I softened you by showing you what was best for Idavoll, giving you the same fight as Souther—the fight for your people. You just didn’t realize Asgard was fighting it too.”
Westley ran his hands through his hair, which now reached past his shoulders. This was a lot to take in. When he’d thought he was a leader, he had only been a pawn in other’s games. He would not let it happen again. He would not let it happen to them.
A small knock came at the door and North gave Westley a look of warning.
As she let Steffen and Vali into the room, the tension in Westley’s shoulders strained against his shirt. Though he was finally cleaned and changed from his travel attire, he was still uncomfortable—would be uncomfortable until he could speak with Solveig.
Westley bared his teeth at Steffen, who just grinned right back like he wasn’t on the top of his kill list. He may be a pawn, but he was a pawn that struck hard, killed ruthlessly, and most importantly, protected his mate at all costs.
He was about to lurch across the room when he felt Solveig’s hand press against the walls of his mind. It was an unconscious decision to let her in.
Listen to what they have to say.
Is that an order?
Always.
And then she was gone again.
“You’re lucky Solveig is fond of you, otherwise you would’ve taken your last breath upon entering this room,” Westley said through gritted teeth.
“I’ll have to make sure I thank her properly later,” Steffen said suggestively.
Westley growled, and North punched Steffen hard in the stomach. The Elven prince hadn’t expected it so he buckled over in pain. Westley grinned at his sister, but she was glaring at him.
“What?”
“Behave,” she ordered.
Goddess, he was letting the females in his life lead him around by the balls. North rounded on Steffen and Vali. “And you two. If you continue with your idiotic plan to rile him up, I won’t stop him the next time he goes for your throat. You should know better than to antagonise an unmated Fae.”
She spoke of him like he was a feral animal, and he hated to admit when she was right. His sister was always right. It was infuriating sometimes.
He was a wild, savage animal. The need to claim Solveig was strong now that she was aware of the bond. He was overwhelmed with it and needed to sink his teeth into her, his tongue, his co—
Focus, Solveig ordered.
Kind of hard to do right now. It was true—his mind played images for him, images from his deep imaginings inspired by their kiss and Sol’s dreams from the Southern Wilds. From when he’d helped her pleasure herself.
Am I supposed to apologize? Her voice was sharp. She was clearly still pissed.
That would be a nice change of pace.
She stuck her middle finger up and he laughed, thoroughly distracted.
“Has Solveig calmed you down?” Vali asked, now lounging on the couch in the sitting room. North sighed.
“Why are you two here?” Westley ground out, trying to be civil, though his thoughts alternated between violence and passion.
“We came to let you in on our secret.”
“Yes, you knew we were mates, and it was all a ploy to get us to admit it to each other. Bravo, you did it.” Westley’s patience with the Elven was wearing thin.
Steffen frowned. “You’re no fun. You need to fuck Solveig so you can lighten up. I know it worked for me.”
Westley lunged, slamming his fist into Steffen’s face with a loud crack. Blood spilled from the wound, a bruise immediately beginning to bloom.
“I told you to cool it,” North ordered. She muttered something that sounded like “younglings” under her breath.
Westley let Vali peel him off his brother, getting in one more blow to the ribs before taking a step back. “Is there anything else you want to share?” Westley spat. Steffen must have a death wish, because his bloody smile took on a teasing glint.
Thankfully for everyone involved, Vali interrupted Steffen before he could say something stupid, like sharing about his night with Solveig.
“Yes, we want you to know that our mother is likely not happy with us. She was not aware of our plan, though she cannot argue with the cancellation of the wedding,” Vali said with a sigh.
“You think Eir had no idea?” North asked with her brows up, her mouth breaking into a smile.
“Of course not. You look surprised—why?”
“She should probably tell you herself, but this is too fun. Eir and the queens are quite close. It was she who slipped the snake into Solveig’s towel. She knew the two of you would never beat Solveig on your own and all of this”—she gestured around the room—“had to go according to plan.”
Three pairs of male eyes blinked back at her with varying degrees of anger. When she noticed Westley’s stunned face, she must have realized he hadn’t known.
He whirled out of the room, producing twin waves to soak the Elven brothers in his wake.