Chapter 66
Solveig snapped into action, calling for retreat through the secret passage. She thanked her Hamingja Westley had shown it to her earlier.
She stood at the door as she called soldiers to flee into the tunnel, with the strongest warriors staying back to fight off the encroaching army as best they could.
Aelfsi brought Koa, bruised and limping from Maddock’s arrow, through the door. Coronation guests hurried after the queens, leaving the fighting to the dwindling soldiers.
Solveig’s eyes flitted around the room as the massacre continued.
More of her people dying—Westley’s people alongside them.
She thought everyone who couldn’t fight had escaped, but from across the room she saw Sten still battling, struggling to reach the door.
Viggo and Noren pulled a distraught Vali off his mother’s lifeless body. They dragged him to the passageway with North and Gerrie on their heels.
Time to go, Prince, she thought to Westley, who was helping the front line of soldiers keep the Giants back.
Just get yourself out, I’ll be right behind you, he replied, not looking at her.
Bullshit. You think I don’t realize you’re going to stay until you’re dead? If you’re not going, I’m not going.
He swore but didn’t bother to deny it.
“Conalle, let’s go!” Solveig called.
Conalle emerged from his hiding spot behind the throne. The Fae lord was used to battles with words, not swords. Gerrie came back into the room and gripped the lord’s arm, covering him as they made their way over to Solveig.
She stabbed a Jotunheim soldier in the leg before slashing at his throat as he attacked. Blood sprayed across her shredded gown.
“Solveig!” Sten’s loud voice called over the crowd, his eyes wide with terror.
He bolted towards them, grabbing an arrow in his young hand on the way, stabbing Maddock in the back.
Maddock, who had been aiming an arrow at Gerrie.
Solveig shook with the effort of keeping the door open. Maddock flung around, grabbing the arrow from his back and ripping it out with a roar of pain. Sten stumbled back, eyes going completely white.
“Sten!” Solveig cried, trying to throw a burst of light towards Maddock, but she couldn’t—she was drained and Blocked.
Maddock’s face contorted into a cruel mask of violence as he gripped Sten by the arms, forcing him to his knees and picking up his fallen sword.
The young Seer’s head was severed within seconds, his eyes never leaving Solveig’s until his head rolled onto the floor.
“No!” Solveig cried, resisting the urge to go to him. Her comfort would be useless.
Instead, she fixed her gaze on Maddock, her magic swelling as the grief of losing Sten filled her.
Bodies littered the floor, bodies of soldiers who had signed up to serve their rulers. But Sten was an innocent, and his body did not deserve to lie on such a battlefield.
The unjustness, the brutality of it snapped Solveig’s restraints. She burst with unmatched power, overcoming whatever hold Ragnvald’s magic had on her. Ragnvald, who still stood over Steffen’s lifeless body.
Solveig, Westley said, but she paid him no mind—Maddock had opened his eyes to his final morning.
Westley fought anyone who entered his path on his way to her. He was by her side in seconds.
He’s mine, she snarled, not taking her eyes off Maddock.
Allow me to help get him for you, General, Westley said with a viciousness that fed her own.
If you wish to help, be a distraction.
You want to use me as cannon fodder?
She didn’t answer as she slipped into the shadows of the hall. The battle was dying out with most of the remaining Idavoll soldiers escaping.
Viggo and Noren returned, fighting alongside Westley as he drew Maddock’s attention away from Solveig with a surge of power, creating a wall of water, blocking them from view.
The throne room was dark and bloodied, the shadows of Ragnvald’s magic curling in the air—unintentionally creating the perfect cover for Solveig to move undetected. Jotunheim’s forces were slowly gaining ground as brave Idavoll soldiers fought and fell, protecting the last line.
Solveig kept her steps light as her magic grew within her, vengeance fuelling her. The scent of her own blood told her of her wounds, but she couldn’t feel them.
Her eyes remained locked on Maddock.
Maddock, who had betrayed her people, who had forced her capture in the mortal village, who had killed Sten—a young witch with no fault but befriending her. She wanted to savour it, like she had wanted to savour his brother’s death.
She couldn’t then and she couldn’t now, but at least she would get blood on her hands this time.
Gods damn the monster this war had turned her into.
The darkness inside her swelled, her magic absorbing it as she let the light illuminate her position behind Maddock.
He turned, freezing mid-strike. Solveig scented the fear rolling off his traitorous body. She smiled as his eyes widened. Her light danced around her arms, snaking up and down like the tendrils of a storm.
She saw herself in the reflection of his fear-rimmed eyes, and her smile widened to a snarl as she bared her teeth, though she had no long canines like her mate.
Westley was at her back, his awe and power seeping into her.
Solveig raised her sword, also teeming with light, snapping Maddock out of his daze.
He barely had time to react but managed to block her initial blow. She shoved him back with her sword, and before he could recover, her foot connected with his chest. Maddock stumbled, tripping over a body at his feet.
Sten’s body.
Solveig roared and slashed at Maddock, swinging her sword with abandon as he met her blow for blow from his position on the ground. She attacked relentlessly until she disarmed him, his sword flying from his hands.
Gripping the Giant by the throat, she picked him up and slammed him against the gilded silver trunk of the tree.
His black blood splattered behind him, mixing with the red of the Fae.
Magic crackled under her palm, sending a charge deep into Maddock. Shadows lingered there, but she didn’t care. His soul was rotten—the shadows did not change much. She sent charge after charge, Maddock’s face contorting in pain, delighting her.
Solveig. Westley’s voice came through the fog of vengeance in her mind. Not a reprimand, but a gentle reminder of who she was.
She sent one last blast through him before slamming her sword into his stomach, driving it into his heart. He choked on his last breath, and Solveig dropped him unceremoniously, her arm giving out under Maddock’s dead weight.
Solveig met Westley’s gaze as Maddock’s body thumped to the floor. His eyes were alight with his own power, and whatever darkness he saw in hers did not frighten him.
She must have sent that thought towards him because he stepped forward, placing a bloodied hand on her cheek.
“Never, elska. Your darkness sings to me,” he vowed, planting a hard kiss on her mouth.
“Uh, love birds, now may not be the best time for that,” Viggo called. Westley and Solveig snapped their attention to him.
He was holding the door open, waiting. Solveig marvelled at the wall of water Westley had constructed. It was falling bit by bit as his magic waned. It would have to be enough to get them out.
They didn’t hesitate, escaping to the passageway.
“You have escaped me this time, daughter of shadows, but are you really safe?” Ragnvald’s cold voice bled through the wall of water, chilling her to her bones. The stone and silver door fell shut behind them, sealing them in.
They raced down the dark corridor towards those who had already escaped. Voices greeted them sooner than Solveig expected and when they turned a corner, they almost tripped over their waiting friends.
“Does Ragnvald know where this lets out?” Noren asked, helping a limping Conalle move faster.
“Considering this passage leads to multiple places, I doubt it,” Westley answered.
“I didn’t even know it existed,” North muttered, still clutching her side. She hadn’t been able to heal herself yet, and Solveig worried the blade she’d been struck with was poisoned. Westley smiled at his sister.
“Good thing I’m a better spy than you are,” he said proudly.
The sound of banging on the wall grew fainter and fainter as they travelled underneath the palace, moving quickly through the tunnels.
They ran until they came to a small circular room, which Solveig lit up with a globe of flickering light hovering over their heads. The room resembled a wheel—spindles of tunnels jutting out into darkness.
“Where to?” she asked Westley out loud for the sake of the others.
“That’s up to you, General,” he answered. Solveig took in the remnants of their people. Only a handful of soldiers carried their wounded, slumping against the walls in exhaustion. They could not fight, and she hated having to flee again.
Her mothers even appeared to be at a loss. Koa had not Seen this coming. Solveig drew herself up to full height, her mind working fast as she created a plan.
“Vali,” she said, turning to the Elven prince. “Is Alfheim ready to fight?” She knew the answer before he spoke.
“Alfheim is ready to avenge our queen and our prince,” he said viciously, no trace left of the easygoing heir she had come to care for.
“Very well. Take half of the Idavoll soldiers and any Idavoll citizens who managed to escape to Alfheim. Bring North and keep her safe there. Prepare your legions, and await my call,” she ordered. Vali nodded and began dividing up the Idavoll soldiers.
“I can protect myself.” North bristled, her shoulders squaring.
“I know, Your Majesty,” Solveig said, turning to face North. She used the title the rightful queen of Idavoll deserved. “But we need to be smart, regroup. You will be able to help your people far better from Alfheim than from Asgard. There is less prejudice there.”
North looked like she was about to protest again when Easta laid a hand on her arm.
“Take this tunnel. It will lead you past the armoury and out towards the stables,” Westley told them. He walked over to his sisters. Easta held North in an embrace on the ground.
Westley pried Easta’s arms off their eldest sister and brought her to her feet. “You must go to Alfheim to recover. Take your people.”
“I am not their queen,” she whispered.
“Crown or not, you are their queen, North. Lead them as you vowed you would.” Westley’s voice was harsh but effective.
North steeled herself, only one word leaving her lips: “Munin.”
“He betrayed you,” Solveig said as gently as she could, approaching to stand with the royal siblings. “He was not your mate. And I promise we will find out how your bond was tampered with.”
North shook her head in disbelief. “That’s impossible.”
“I no longer believe anything is impossible when it comes to Ragnvald,” Solveig said, his name bitter on her tongue.
Westley spoke quietly to North as Vali ushered the Idavoll soldiers down the tunnel. When they were gone, North took a deep breath, glancing between her sister and brother.
She steeled herself, and without a word, the would-be queen of Idavoll ran.