Chapter 65
Westley was blown back by the force of his grandfather’s actions.
Otherworldly magic reached out and stretched its fingers as it claimed the power that was meant for North—the power that ruled over all of Idavoll.
The crown on Ragnvald’s head shifted, almost melting until it melded to the ones he already bore—Hel, Midgard, and Jotunheim.
Now he owned Idavoll’s as well.
Solveig’s shock flitted through him as she stared at North, still embracing Munin on the ground. She lunged forward, but Westley couldn’t reach his sister before Solveig struck, throwing her dagger directly into Munin’s neck—where the sword had been placed only moments ago.
Ragnvald’s brows shot up, and the room fell silent as Munin crumpled to the floor. A dirk covered in blood dropped from his fist.
North gasped in pain, hurt and confusion breaking through her composure. Munin’s hands were stained red as he slumped to the floor, a cold cackle leaving his bloodied mouth. North placed a hand on her abdomen, trying to heal herself as Solveig dragged her back.
“Well that’s a pity,” Ragnvald said with a sigh. “I was really counting on that.”
He waved his hands and his legion attacked, Maddock leading the charge with a satisfied smile.
The coronation guests were woefully underarmed, only the guards’ swords and bows at their disposal.
Westley sprang into action, catching the handful of arrows Viggo tossed to him, and began stabbing and slashing at the Jotunheim soldiers. His Fae speed was on his side, and he managed to wipe out the first line of attackers.
He spared a glance at Solveig. Her dress was already ripped, but thankfully she was not injured.
The hall filled with light as Solveig called on her magic. Before she could wield it, she was thwarted by Ragnvald’s increasing power. An invisible force snuffed out the glow.
Westley could only summon drops of water, and those could barely do any damage—though he did manage to send them forcefully through two guards who were approaching Solveig’s back.
Why can’t we use our magic?
I’m not sure. It’s like it’s bound again. It feels like the Block, she answered with a grimace of pain.
Indeed, his own magic cried under his skin, screaming as it was shoved back inside. Westley thought he remembered how much it hurt to have his magic stripped from him, but he was wrong.
He fell to his knees in agony as his magic seared through his veins.
Fight it, Solveig said through gritted teeth.
She managed to send a blast through the Block at Ragnvald, who had not been prepared. When her magic found its target, a burst of shadow unfurled from the king. He did not flinch.
What the Hel? she exclaimed, looking over at Westley to see if he had seen what she had. The shock he felt was mirrored on her face.
They continued to fight through the Jotunheim soldiers that relentlessly poured into the throne room, surrounding them. Idavoll soldiers eventually joined, escalating the battle into a bloodbath the likes of which the throne room had never seen.
Both sides were relentless, showing no mercy as soldiers fell on both sides.
Bodies began to pile up while Westley struggled to reach his wounded sister. Ragnvald’s magic was affecting her too, slowing her healing.
We have to get out of here, he called to Solveig.
A tug came from where she was fighting, pulling him towards her. Her fiery dress was in tatters as she darted through the room, a dagger in one hand and her limited magic in the other. She threw a bolt of light at Maddock, which he narrowly avoided.
Solveig leapt over the bodies towards Ragnvald, who stood by the door cleaning his fingernails.
Without looking, Ragnvald waved a hand, blasting Solveig back.
Westley shoved a dagger into the Giant attacking him and launched himself across the room. Solveig collided with him instead of with the deadly throne that would’ve impaled her.
Ragnvald smirked and casually reached behind him to unsheathe his sword. Westley leaned down to grab two swords from fallen guards, tossing one to Solveig without looking.
Westley twirled the sword in his hand, and with his other, he tried to force as much magic into a blast as possible. The strength of it surprised Ragnvald, forcing him back a few steps as Westley and Solveig advanced together, drawing strength from each other.
They struck down anyone who dared stand in their way until they reached their target. Ragnvald’s brows furrowed as he fended off their brutal advances, their awareness of each other working in their favour, until an evil smile curled his lips.
All it took was one flicker of his gaze behind him and that bead of dread in Westley’s stomach erupted a second before a scream pierced his ears.
Solveig turned first with a gasp, abandoning their fight with Ragnvald to sprint over to Koa, who lay flat on her back. Westley glared at his grandfather before following his mate, right on her heels.
Ragnvald did not chase after them—he seemed content to let his soldiers do all his dirty work.
Maddock stood on the other side of the room, a bow pulled taut with three arrows, aiming right for Koa.
Westley watched in horror as Koa tried to get up only to be flattened again, this time by the Queen of Alfheim.
“Mother!” Steffen called a moment too late.
Queen Eir was draped over Koa, three black arrows jutting from her back as Vali and Steffen ran to kneel beside their mother.
“Mother!” Vali parroted his brother as they worked together to lift her off Koa.
Eir struggled to take in breaths as her sons attended to her. The tips of the arrows protruded from her chest.
“Koa?” Eir asked weakly.
“I’m here,” Koa grunted. “You shouldn’t have done that, my friend.”
A gurgling chuckle came from the Queen of Alfheim’s lips. “You would’ve done the same for me.”
Westley helped Solveig get Koa to the nearest wall. She leaned her back against it with heaving breaths. He could see no fatal wounds, thankfully. Aelfsi quickly appeared to take over for them so Solveig could attend to the Elven queen.
I need you to help me heal her, Solveig said.
Do you think that’s going to work?
We have to try, she insisted.
“Solveig, please,” Steffen begged, cradling his mother’s head in his lap, her ragged breaths drowning out the sounds of battle still raging around them. Vali brushed the hair back from her face.
“I’ll do what I can,” she swore. “On the count of three, we’re going to remove the arrows.”
Eir screamed as Vali, Steffen, and Solveig each grabbed an arrow and tugged. Blood gushed from the wounds before Steffen and Vali could cover them, applying as much pressure as possible to staunch the flow.
Steffen stared at Solveig with desperate hope.
She placed her hand in Westley’s and he gripped it firmly, giving her the strength she needed. She called on his power, and he let it entwine with hers as she tried to push her magic into Eir.
Their combined power slammed into a brick wall.
“Mother,” Vali cried.
Solveig furrowed her brow in concentration as she sent pulse after pulse of magic, trying to get it into Eir, but it only returned to them like a wave returning to the ocean.
Eir gasped, coughing as she spat out a mouthful of blood.
“My sons,” she whispered before her hand fell limp and lifeless down to the ground.
“No! Stay with us, please!” Steffen begged, a sob bursting out of him.
Vali pressed his forehead to his mother’s, his tears washing through the streaks of blood.
The air shifted beside Westley, but he was too late to stop Steffen as he leapt up in a rage, taking the sword Solveig had abandoned to attend to the queen.
“Steffen, no!” Solveig cried, trying to catch him. She was too late.
Steffen charged towards Maddock. The Elven prince raised the sword above his head, the rage in his eyes fuelling his attack. Maddock only grinned, lifting his bow again to aim it at the grieving prince.
He shot the first arrow, but it was blasted back by a bolt of light from Solveig.
Frustrated, he shot again and again but was thwarted each time by Solveig as she cleared the path to Maddock for Steffen.
Westley felt her weakening with each strike, but she pulled magic from deep within her. When she was too tired, Westley took over, knocking arrows out of Steffen’s way with droplets of water.
They were so focused on their task they did not see Ragnvald step in.
Before Steffen could strike Maddock down where he stood, Ragnvald skewered the prince with his sword.
“No!” Vali cried, springing to his feet. Westley whirled, prepared to stop him from enduring the same fate.
Before he could act, North crashed into the Elven prince from behind, pinning him to the ground. North fought hard to hold Vali back, sorrow painting her face. He thrashed against her, but she refused to let go. The Elven heir would not be able to stand against Ragnvald—Alfheim had lost enough.
The battle persisted around them, and those who were able were forced back into the fray.
They were losing.
More and more Fae fell at the hands of Ragnvald’s soldiers. He was shielding them with that invisible force, somehow, and they were outnumbered.
Westley met Solveig’s stare and knew they were thinking the same thing.
Retreat was the only option.