Page 102 of The Last Valkyrie

The first guy scoffed at the passing Ljosalfar in their gold armor and proud posture. “You believe this shit, Dairn? Whose cock did we have to suck to get them to help us?”

“What are they getting out of it, huh?” Dairn answered.

A third man chipped in. “Too many questions, boys. I don’t like any of it.”

The first guy helped rile them up, saying, “What’s stopping them from waiting to help us when the time comes, until the dark pointy-ears wipe us out, so the light pointy-ears can take our academy and claim it as their own?”

“Probably after the whole Isle, knowing the fucking elves,” Dairn said too loudly.

I stepped in front of them, against my better judgment, folding my arms over my chest. I felt a bit naked without my mates with me, heading toward the western gate again.

The trio stopped, brows rising apprehensively. They knew who I was—everyone did at this point.

“They’re not going to do that,” I said calmly, almost threateningly.

“How do you know, giant-slayer?” Dairn asked. He was a tall, lanky Viking with runes tattooed on the right side of his neck.

“Because I’ve lived with them. Dined with them. Fought with them.”

“Fucked them, too, the way I hear it.”

I fought down the surge of exasperation.Fucking dunce.If any of my guys had been here to hear this cadet speak to me in such a way . . .

It’s sort of freeingnothaving them smother me with their protectiveness sometimes, honestly.

Ignoring his intentionally coaxing words, I said, “The elves are honorable people. Soldiers like us. They’re here because they know their realm is next if the Dokkalfar and jotnar destroy Midgard. Call it mutually-assured survival, if you want.”

The trio grumbled, sharing looks that said they weren’t anywhere close to being convinced.

“You trying to speak for all humans when you say stuff like that?” Dairn asked. This time, it wasn’t said with spite—he actually sounded genuine.

I thought about it for a moment. My ego wasn’t big enough to think that I spoke for all humans . . .But maybe it’s not the worst thing if I do. Kelvar asked if I would speak for the Hersirs, to try and unify the cadets in ways that they can’t, being their superiors.

Maybe it was time to give that a try.

“I don’t speak for everyone, Dairn,” I said. “But I’m especially qualified to judge the Ljosalfar, for all the reasons we both just said.”

He snorted. “So you’re special, you’re saying?”

“I am.”

“How?”

The idea came to me in a flash, a light bulb going off in my head. “Come to the Cliffs of Dorymir tomorrow and I’ll show you.”

His lips pursed. He glanced at his two buddies to the right and left of him, clearly confused.

I hoped my vague, cryptic invitation would have him thinking for the rest of the night. It was satisfying seeing his mind ticking from righteous indignation to confusion to curiosity.

“Fine,” Dairn said. “Game on, giant-slayer.”

I smiled as they walked past me, Dairn making sure to shoulder-check me on his way by.

Now I just need to make sure to put on a show worthy of my cryptic invitation.

Every night near sundown, after finishing training with my guys, I hit the western gates before meeting them for dinner in one of the mess halls.

My reason for being here was always the same. I would watch the gates from a distance as they opened, letting in the scouts sent out from that morning. I would follow them to Kelvar the Whisperer’s office, near the jailhouse and Hersir Jorthyr’s jurisdiction.

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