Page 33 of The Last Valkyrie

“If the humans do not understand their enemy, Hersirs, then allow me to seek assistance outside the scope of humanity. From people who understand the jotnar better.”

Corym E’tar strode forward, tall and gallant, recovered from his bull-riding stint with only a few small scratches and tattered clothes to show for it.

“Mind your place, elf,” Thane Canute growled.

I frowned, losing some respect I’d gained for the huge-shielded commander while watching him fight the bull. It seemed many people’s opinions about the elves were fully set in stone, and it pained me to hear.

Kelvar said, “The elf fought for us just as hard as anyone, Canute.”

The Whisperer earned a few raised brows at that, because he had only ever been critical and nasty about elves in his lifetime, from what the other Hersirs had seen.

But I had seen another side of him—the father, the protector, the open-minded assassin willing to change his views if presented with facts that supported a change. And Corym E’tar had done nothing if not fought hard enough to deserve changed opinions about him and his people.

“Kelvar is right again,” Axel said, folding his arms. “The elf deserves listening to.”

“What is it then?” Sigmund demanded in a clipped voice.

“Let me go to Alfheim, sir,” Corym said. Gasps swept through pockets of the army. “Allow me to return to my home, where I am a commander among my people, and request assistance from my nation’s lord.”

Sigmund snorted. “You’re a commander in the elven throng?”

A prince, actually, asshole.

Corym gave a stern nod. “I am.”

I saw the calculation in Sigmund’s eyes. He didn’t want to lose the elf forever . . . then his eyes landed on me, behind the radiant elf. And I understood, in that moment, Sigmund knew he wouldn’t lose the prized elf forever as long as I stayed behind and became his reward for returning.

I gulped hard, feeling sick to my stomach, noticing the scheming on Sigmund’s face. If Corym was going to return to Alfheim and the Nation of Heira and the Fifth Company that he led, then I desperately wanted to go with him.

Sigmund wasn’t going to let me. I could tell. And this mission was more important than my own ego or desires.

“Very well, elf,” Sigmund said at last. “You will return to Alfheim and your people, but you won’t go alone. At least onehuman will join you, to watch over you and make sure you aren’t fleeing at the first sign of trouble.”

Corym made a disgusted, offended face. “I would never abandon people in their time of need, Gothi. The notion is insulting.”

“I don’t care. I don’t trust you. We will further discuss at Vikingrune Academy who will join you.”

Gudleif tilted her head, saying, “So wearereturning to the academy then?”

Sigmund nodded morosely. “Yes, Hersirs. You have changed my mind. Thank you for your counsel.” He gave me one last glance, and was that a hint of a smirk I saw there?

As long as he didn’t see my wings when I whipped them out in Delaveer before he was there, and no one tells him about it, I should be safe.

Alfheim would have been a great place to go to avoid him. Alas, I had my own things I needed to do, here on Midgard.

Mother. I’m coming.

The Gothi of Vikingrune Academy turned to the students and cleared his throat. “We’re returning to the safety behind our walls, soldiers, so we can properly mourn the dead and train for the future. You have fought valiantly. It is regrettable that this campaign has been a loss, yet it has not been a total failure. I vow to you the next one will not end in such suffering. It will end in victory.”

His words received no cheers or hollers this time. Just sagging shoulders, drooping chins, and numb nods.

“The next one,” he says. How many people have to die to see our failure and try a new strategy? When will this madness end?

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