Page 158 of The Last Valkyrie

Arne’s plush cheeks shone red. “Erm. Yeah. That’s what I meant. You have . . . you.” His face twisted like he still wasn’t sure about the way his sentence came together.

I rolled my eyes, croaking out a laugh, and then flew into the sky. When I got high enough, I angled off—no longer worried of any errant arrows hitting me.

I loped over the wall of the academy a hundred feet above it, and the Dokkalfar simply watched. It was odd, gliding over enemy lines without them raising their weapons or trying to stop me with their dark magic.

I coughed as I entered a cloud of smoke and soot, then fluttered down the hill once I had a wide enough berth that I didn’t think the dark elves could get to me even if they wanted.

Here goes nothing,I thought, giving a silent prayer to Odin to grant me wisdom and Thor to grant me strength as I rushed headlong into unspeakable danger.

When my feet lightly touched down on the craggy earth below the steep passage of Academy Hill, I was no less than twenty feet from the throng of enemies.

Korvan turned to me first, ignoring Dahlia’s words and turning his back to her with a grin on his pitch-black face. “Ah, speak of the she-devil.”

My face tightened. I glared at him menacingly as I walked forward and my boots crunched on gravel. “Swordbaron.”

The three jotnar nearby, off to my right about twenty feet, scared the jeebies out of me and made my skin crawl with nervesand goosebumps. But they did nothing to stop my advance on my winged father. They simply stared blankly, their severe, otherworldly faces impossible to discern.

“Just in time,” Dahlia said behind Korvan. “You almost started without me, Linmyrr.”

“Quite bold of you, coming here all alone,” Korvan said, wrapping his corded arms around his chest. He wore a beige tunic and pants, not looking like the absolute threat I knew he was.

“I’m not alone,” I said, waiting for the soundtrack music to play behind me.

It didn’t come.

Frowning, I tried again. “I’m . . . not . . .”

Shadows opened up behind me, darkening in the moonlit patches cast by the tall hillside. Kelvar emerged with my five mates right behind him, the Whisperer panting and taking a knee with exhaustion once he surfaced from his shadow portal.

“. . . Alone!” I finished, pleased with their entrance this time.

Korvan smirked. “Cute. Tell your puppies to stay back.”

I did no such thing. They moved closer, within five feet of me, and I noticed the first twitch of a reaction from the jotnar beside us. For now, they were examining the situation, analyzing with their alien eyes. I wasn’t even sure if they could understand us.

I also don’t think they’ll be waiting around forever.

At the top of the hill, sounds began to pick up—orders in the Elvish tongue from the Dokkalfar speaking in their harsh, stilted dialect. A bevy of action was going on up there, dust kicking up as I assumed they prepared for the incoming attack by Axel, Vaalnath, Jhaeros, and their respective men.

“Have you reconsidered my offer?” Korvan asked.

I scoffed, spitting on the ground between us. “You mean the one where I become your breeding stock,Father, and lose all sense of agency, freedom, and dignity?”

He rolled his eyes. “You make it sound like the proliferation of our species is such a bad thing, Ravinica.”

“Maybe it is, if you’re the one proliferating it.”

The mirth left his face in an instant, replaced with a twisted frown that showed me the true hazard he represented. “Who else will it be? The daft, pathetic boys behind you? Any coupling between non-dragonkin will create sickly,weakexcuses for offspring.”

“Daft? Pathetic? You clearly don’t know a thing—”

“Weak and sickly like my Astrid, you mean, dear Korvan?”

My brow lifted, as did Korvan’s.

Slowly, my wicked father turned around to face the Tomekeeper, who had started creeping up slowly behind him. “Yes, witch. Precisely like her. She never had a chance, shirking her bloodline for the disgusting traits ofhumans.”

As if it was Astrid’s fault her ears never turned out pointy.When my brow leveled, a knot formed in the middle.Wait a second. Dahlia’s tone, her body language.

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