Chapter 82
Westley knelt beside Solveig, bringing her to her feet as the old healer took a half step towards them.
A low growl rumbled from his chest and the male backed off, a curious expression on his face.
He didn’t know Laeknir well enough to interpret it, but he wouldn’t take his chances allowing him anywhere near Solveig.
“Solveig,” the woman beside Laeknir said. “I’m—”
“Astrid,” Solveig finished.
“Laeknir told you about me, he wanted you to understand—”
“That’s enough, Astrid,” Laeknir huffed.
“Don’t you interrupt me,” she scolded. Westley would have laughed at the big healer being admonished by his wife—for those were rings of twine wrapped around their fingers—but he couldn’t because Solveig was still barely breathing.
Astrid continued. “He hoped you would understand, when the time came, that he was broken.”
That was not what Westley had expected her to say. Solveig, too, seemed surprised at the direction of Astrid’s thoughts.
“Broken,” Solveig repeated slowly, unable to keep her eyes on Laeknir.
“Yes, Solveig, broken.” The woman’s gaze flicked between her and Westley. “And I think you may have a better understanding now.”
“Now?”
“Now that you have a mate,” Laeknir said carefully.
“Mate.”
Westley was beginning to worry at her one-word answers. The panic that lingered in his bones after her confession just moments ago intensified. Was she in the right state of mind to handle this confrontation? He didn’t know, but he would follow her lead.
“Would you like to come inside? We can talk where the wind won’t hear us,” Astrid offered.
“No,” Solveig said, though there was no malice.
“We cannot stay, we are searching for . . .” Westley hesitated, not knowing how much to say, whether they could trust the healer and his wife.
Laeknir’s head bounced between the two of them, and Westley saw understanding flash in his eyes. He knew then.
“Solveig, you cannot be serious—he cannot be trusted,” Laeknir barked.
It was the wrong thing to say.
Though Solveig’s eyes blazed with anger, Westley was relieved to see some life return to her hollow face.
“Trust?” she asked with a laugh that held no humour.
“Aye, Sol, trust,” Laeknir insisted. “As I trusted you to do what you had to, I beg you to trust that I did as I had to as well.”
Solveig shook her head, taking a step back. Laeknir tried to follow, but it was Astrid who stopped him.
“You have to give her time, love,” she whispered gently. “She does not know.”
“Know what?” Westley asked.
“Please, come inside,” Astrid insisted. “We know of your journey, and you are going to want to talk to us before you continue.”
“We can help,” Laeknir added, speaking only to Solveig.
Solveig turned to Westley, a plea in her eyes. The feel of her, of the bond, sprang to life.
I cannot go in there, she said into his mind. She must’ve been working to loosen her magic again, though he could still barely feel his own.
We have no one else to help us, he tried.
I cannot trust him.
I know, and you don’t have to.
Go without me. I will stay out here.
Absolutely fucking not. I’m not leaving you alone.
I promise not to get into any trouble, she said with a weak smile. Westley sighed—he would not win this particular battle. He turned to the couple.
“Show me the way,” he said, gesturing in front of him.
Laeknir lingered as Astrid led Westley into their cottage. He didn’t take his eyes off either of them until Laeknir heaved in a breath and turned away from Solveig, who made her way to the edge of the cliff. She sat down and closed her eyes.
I’m alright, she whispered.
If you lose yourself, I will find you, he said before turning to enter the house.
“Please, have a seat, Your Highness,” Astrid said formally.
“Just Westley,” he corrected out of habit. Astrid nodded and bustled around the kitchen.
The dead needn’t eat in Hel, so Westley wondered what she was up to. He couldn’t see what she was doing when she opened the cupboard doors. She returned with arms full of different crystals and pinch pots.
“I thought mortals abhorred witchcraft?” he asked.
Laeknir dropped down into the seat across from him and Astrid sat at the head of the table, laying her ingredients out carefully, one by one, in a row.
She emptied two pinch pots of white salt onto the table, flattening the pile into a smooth surface before she answered without looking. “You’ll find, Westley, that when one dies and spends an eternity in Hel, your beliefs change.”
“That happens in the world above as well,” he answered thoughtfully.
Astrid met his gaze, her eyes softening like she recognized his inner turmoil.
“It is a difficult thing to manage, when one’s foundation crumbles because of lies and deceit, especially by those we loved and trusted.”
Westley only nodded as she focused on her task.
She drew three runes in the salt. Westley craned his neck to look at them properly.
The first was a line with two arrowheads pointing north.
Divine energy. The second, a straight line with short diagonal strokes in opposite directions at the top and the bottom and a small arrow in the middle of the line, pointing east. Protection from evil magic.
The third was a line with two diagonal dashes on the right side, turning down. The Ansuz rune, for gods and ancestors.
Astrid took another pinch pot, revealing black salt. She created a perfect circle around the runes. Once finished, she took her crystals and laid them one by one on the outside of the black circle.
“Could you tell me what these are for?” Westley asked, unfamiliar with the use of the different coloured crystals.
“Clear quartz, for guidance through the fog.” That one she placed at the very top of the circle.
“Selenite, to purify the space and enhance our spiritual connection.” She placed this white stone at the bottom of the circle.
“Smoky quartz, to ground us in the earth and bring a sense of calm.” This one went to the right.
“Rose quartz, for love, healing, and strengthening of bonds.” She placed on the left side—the four points of a compass.
“And the others?” Westley asked when she made no move to continue. Astrid had her eyes closed, her hands hovering over the remaining crystals.
“I’m trying to sense if any of them wish to join.”
“You believe this works?” Westley asked Laeknir.
The old healer huffed. “Just pay attention and be quiet.”
Astrid picked up the black stone.
“Obsidian?” Westley asked.
“Hematite,” she corrected. “For strength and protection, courage and fortitude.”
She placed the black stone beside the rose quartz—Westley had a sinking feeling in his stomach as the temperature dropped a few degrees. Astrid looked at Laeknir and he collected the remaining crystals, rewrapping them in their linen cloths and placing them carefully in the cupboards.
He came back with an empty crystal pitcher.
Astrid and Laeknir looked at him expectantly, like he should know what to do. She nudged the pitcher towards him before he understood.
Focusing hard on his bond with Solveig, he pulled at it, trying to get to his magic. Solveig responded immediately, and he could feel her concentration, sending her own power towards him. It was muted, but there.
He reached deeper and placed his hands over the pitcher, cupping them. Water slowly began to fill them, and he allowed the liquid to spill into the pitcher. It took time, but eventually it was full.
He slumped back against the chair, exhausted.
“Thank you,” Astrid said, and Westley could only nod.
Astrid poured the water directly into the circle. He thought it would wash away the runes drawn in the salt, but it didn’t. The water flowed around the obstacles in its path, curling to fill in every free space.
When the pitcher was empty, there was a circular pool on the table, the black salt keeping the water from leaking out. It was like glass, and Westley was tempted to touch it. He refrained, but his fingers twitched at his side.
“We need Solveig for the next part,” Astrid said softly.
He didn’t know if he could get her in there, but hopefully the time alone had helped her process. Opening the window, he looked out, his heart dropping when he didn’t see her.
Panic drowned his senses, and he jumped through the opening, stopping short. She was at the threshold of the house, looking unsure.
You scared me, he said, coming to stand beside her.
I’m sorry, I felt I needed to come in, but I can’t make myself open the door.
I can help with that. He reached for the handle, but before he could open the door, she put a hand on his arm, stopping him.
Wait.
For what?
She reached up and placed a soft kiss on his lips before pulling away, but he didn’t let her get far. He brought her back into him and kissed her thoroughly—kissed her like it was the first time.
Her body fell into his, and he just wanted to live in this moment. That pit of dread moved to the back of his mind as if it knew that this would be their last chance to embrace. He could not think of it.
If I loved you any more, the world would not be able to hold the force of it, Solveig, he said, breaking their kiss and looking intently into her eyes.
He didn’t wait for her reply before opening the door, and they entered the cabin hand in hand.