Chapter 71
Solveig hadn’t been lying. Westley rubbed her back as she emptied the contents of her stomach for the third time this hour over the side of their boat.
Her skin had paled to the point that Westley was unsure if she could lose any more colour until a slight green tinged her usually lively face. A deathly pallor had come over her once they’d set sail, and it had not subsided for days.
He’d been quite alarmed at how quickly the nausea had set in and despised being completely useless as his mate struggled through their journey.
She slumped to the ground, her head between her knees as Westley tried again to calm the seas. Even his power couldn’t combat the storms they’d faced, though not for lack of trying. The water was easier to settle for stretches of time at night, meaning he could rest and hold Solveig close.
Food was a different story.
He was starting to worry that she couldn’t keep anything down and fretted over every bite that went into her mouth, making her chew mint leaves to help calm her stomach. Thankfully she took them without argument.
During the day, he sat beside her, her head resting on his shoulder.
The dark grain of the wood made intricate patterns that he traced with his eyes.
His mind raced at the prospect of going to Hel.
It wasn’t an unfamiliar thought for him.
With the life he’d lived, it was only a matter of time before he ended up there.
He just never thought he’d be going voluntarily. Or while alive.
But there were a lot of things he never thought he’d do. Wind whipped across his face, forcing his attention away from the deck and up to the top sails.
The faded canvas billowed with the fresh gust. Westley only had a second’s notice to throw his magic out to the sea and pray the ship didn’t rock too much.
He was constantly syphoning off the excess power, calming the waters as best he could for Solveig.
As such, his magic was intertwined with the sea surrounding their ship.
He reached a hand to stroke her hair, sighing.
“What are you sighing about?” she asked irritably.
“This is not how I imagined our sailing adventures,” he said with a low laugh, trying to keep the strain out of his voice.
“How did you picture them?” She could barely get the words out.
“Well, for one thing, you were vomiting a lot less.”
Solveig made to elbow him, but she lost her resolve and dropped her arm.
“That was pathetic,” he said, placing a kiss on the top of her sweaty head.
“You’re insufferable,” she mumbled and leaned into him for more support. “Tell me more.”
“I love the ocean. I love the rocking of the ship, the way it rolls and dips with the movement of the waves—”
Solveig groaned, interrupting him. “That is not helping,” she whined.
He chuckled. “Sorry. What I meant was, I feel comforted by it. Safe. The sea is teeming with life below, and of course, the water fuels my magic so I feel strong and powerful all the time. I get very . . . excited.”
Solveig lifted her pale face, her eyes flashing with a bit of light.
“I bet seeing me vomit all over the ship is the most arousing thing you’ve ever witnessed,” she joked weakly.
He laughed again as she laid her head on his shoulder. “I would’ve said that everything you do turns me on, but after this I don’t think I can say that anymore.”
They were quiet for a time until Solveig’s strained voice broke the silence. “Sorry I ruined all your sex plans.”
“Not to worry. I have hope for us yet.”
“How do you suppose?”
“I’m assuming you avoid being on a ship for any reason?” Silent confirmation. “I’ve known sailors who have had this reaction, and it just takes time and practice to get their sea legs.”
Solveig groaned at the idea.
“It doesn’t last the whole time, does it?” he asked.
“It gets better after a few days but never entirely goes away.”
“So there is hope. Plus, once magic is back, you can take a tonic.”
“The tonics don’t work for me.”
He tried not to jostle her as he manoeuvred her so she was more or less sitting in his lap. “That’s strange. I wonder why?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“As in, you don’t know?”
“As in I can’t tell you.”
Westley sighed. There were so many things she couldn’t say, and though he knew she wanted to, it still frustrated him. What kind of vow had she made that kept her silent, even from her mate?
Not to mention the strength of magic it would take to bind someone like Solveig. She was more powerful than anyone he’d ever met.
“Do you think if we were fully mated you’d be able to tell me?” he wondered aloud.
“I don’t know,” she said after a pause. “I suppose we’ll find out in forty-five days.”
“Forty-four days,” Westley corrected immediately. She chuckled softly.
“Forty-four days,” she confirmed.
“Come on, let’s get you into bed,” he said, helping her stand.
He’d learned his lesson and placed her on her feet instead of carrying her like he wanted to. Apparently it made everything worse if her feet weren’t on the floor. So instead, he supported as much of her weight as she’d allow and half dragged her over to their cot.
They’d moved the mattress from the captain’s quarters out onto the deck. Westley had to admit, sleeping under the stars, out on the open ocean with his mate—albeit his sick mate—tucked into his side was the most peaceful he’d ever felt.
Solveig slept better in the open air, without the “intolerable suffocating hull that creaked with each movement of the ship,” as she put it.
He didn’t want to get stabbed, which she was capable of even in her weakened state, so he didn’t point out that the ship made just as much creaking noise out here.
He laid her down and tucked her in, placing a kiss on her forehead.
“I’m going to grab a bite to eat. Can I get you some crackers?”
Solveig shook her head and he left her to rest. He’d bring her some water at the very least.
Halfway to the galley, an odd sensation surged through his magic, attuned as he was to the sea. Sails that had been billowing in one direction paused, flitting backwards before filling again with a jerk of the ship, just as the current surrounding them shifted.
Something was disrupting the waters.
“Sol,” he called.
Her weak grunt reached him. He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. His poor mate. But all humour evaporated quickly as his magic trembled—whatever it was, it was coming closer. Despite his better judgement, he leaned over the edge and peered into the sea.
Shadows rippled under the surface.
He thought he saw a shimmer of scales, but he couldn’t be sure.
“Solveig,” he called again, louder so she could hear the alarm in his voice.
“What’s wrong?”
Westley didn’t have time to answer. Something big collided with the bottom of their ship, knocking it sideways. He flew across the deck, slamming into the foremast with a loud crunch, wood splintering beneath the impact.
Righting himself as quickly as possible, he raced over to where Solveig had been thrown. Panic for his mate replaced the dread of the attack. The mattress had landed on top of her, and he couldn’t see any movement until he reached her.
His knees hit the deck with a painful bite. Ripping the mattress away with one tug, he scooped her up. Her eyes fluttered open.
“Don’t scare me like that,” he whispered, placing a kiss to her forehead as he helped her stand, her legs visibly shaking with the effort.
“Sorry, next time I’ll aim to land on top of the mattress.” He didn’t have a reply to her sarcasm so he just held her tightly, forcing his heart to calm and silencing the roaring in his head.
His mate was hurt.
Their ship rocked from whatever swam in the depths of the sea.
“What the Hel was that?” Solveig asked.
“No idea, but I bet it’s not something good.”
Whatever it was knocked their ship again, throwing them back towards the quarterdeck. Westley caught Solveig in midair before she was tossed over the edge. They landed with another hard crash, but this time, Westley ensured Solveig landed on him instead of the wood.
Before he could react, a serpent tail resembling a deep lapis gem emerged from the water, taller than any building he’d ever seen, and came crashing down.
He only let a split second go by before reacting, throwing a wave of water at the monster, knocking it out of the way and shielding the ship from its deadly course.
“What the fuck?” Solveig hissed again as the tail continued its onslaught.
“Any chance you feel well enough to help me fight this thing?” he said, sending another wave towards the serpent.
Her weakened state filtered through the bond. He was alarmed at how drained she was. But he had to trust that she could fight through it if she needed to, and she definitely needed to.
The tail came at them again at the same time its giant body crashed into the hull. A spike skewered up the middle of their ship, wood splintering and flying everywhere. Westley had to split his focus, staunching the water that gushed through the hole while battling the invisible monster from below.
Solveig cast her magic, throwing bolt after bolt of light at the creature.
Storm clouds thundered overhead, lightning blasting from the sky and straight into the monster. Westley marvelled at their luck.
The serpent tail disappeared into the depths of the ocean, swimming out of his magic’s reach.
“Is it gone?” Solveig said, her voice hushed.
“I can’t feel it anymore,” he whispered back, like the monster could hear them.
Her thoughts mirrored his own. “That felt too easy.”
Neither relaxed their stance as Westley drew power and continued to block the ocean from flooding their ship.
The sea calmed, the rough surface smoothing out until it was as sleek as glass. It was not Westley’s doing.
He and Solveig traded apprehensive glances—this definitely wasn’t a good sign. Westley’s heart raced at the sight. It was stunning and deadly and there was no way in Hel this was over.
A ripple broke the too-smooth surface, small at first, flowing towards them.
Fear struck him a moment before a giant head broke through the depths and soared above, its scales a million different hues of blue, distracting them with awe before it let out an ear-splitting shriek.
Glowing eyes stared down at them, the height of a mountain away but narrowing at their target. Enormous fangs extended down as a forked tongue the size of a palace hissed out of the serpent’s mouth.
“Is that . . . ?” Solveig’s question trailed off. He could sense her astonishment and terror as they took in the sight of the horrible beast.
The legendary one.
“I think it is.”
The ancient serpent of the gods.
A snake Odin cast into the seas of Midgard—deadly venomous and as vast as the universe itself. Its length was said to coil around the earth, creating tidal waves and storms to ensnare mortals to the depths of the oceans.
It was supposed to have died during Ragnarok. It was said that Thor killed it with a fatal blow of his hammer. But legends could not be trusted—as Westley was coming to learn for himself.
“Jormungandr,” Solveig breathed before the enormous mouth opened, its jaws unhinged, and lunged towards them.