Page 68 of The Last Valkyrie

“I am to marry Zentha E’lain,lunis’ai.”

Complete silence and shock. Ravinica’s mouth fell open.

Corym put out a hand, saying, “I am not going to do it, my love. Please, understand that I love only you. And fiercely. Zentha understands, too. But I had to make it look toMaltorVaalnath that I’d go through with it . . .”

The expression on Ravinica’s face was all her worst fears coming true—the initial jealousy she’d had over the beautiful elven handmaid being completely founded, rather than childish doubt.

I hated to see her break that like, and Corym’s words did little to appease her.

She was speechless for a moment. Then, with her voice cracking and tears in her eyes, she said, “What do you mean Zenthaunderstands, Corym?”

“Well, my love, as it turns out, Zentha has no desire for men. None at all. Only women andin’kylin.Furthermore, she isn’t exactly enthusiastic about the idea of becoming theMaltor’s broodmare, which is exactly what she would become if we were to marry. In my world, our liege and mother-father has jurisdiction to impregnate any spouse of their children. A Court-Prince from Zentha, who is related to the warring family rebelling against Heira, would shore up their alliance. It’s all a farce, you see?”

When her face scrunched in confusion, trying to work through the complex hierarchical mechanics of Alfheim, Corym wrapped her in a tight embrace.

“It will be okay,lunis’ai, and we will get our army to help win this battle. You let me handle the messy politics on the other side of it, yes?”

She nodded dumbly, still at a loss for words.

Magnus thankfully broke the awkward silence, before any of our hearts could continue breaking for Ravinica.

“I think that’s quite enough fun for one night, friends. Should we not talk about the big day tomorrow? Because I’m not feeling goodat allabout traveling across the seas with Sigmund fucking Calladan.”

We were all in agreement there, at least.

Chapter 22

Ravinica

I DIDN’T KNOW WHATto make of anything these days. My mates had returned safely, which I was grateful for, and yet I was more confused than ever.

Arne had the Lepers waiting and standing by, perhaps? Would they meet our call-to-arms when the time came, or would they betray us and fight for the Dokkalfar—their martyr Frida’s wishes all along?

Magnus said the Skogalfar were coming to help. That was great. But at what cost? His blood. How much of it? What did they want with it? How would it affect him, as it had so painfully impacted him the first time when Tomekeeper Dahlia sought to suck all the life out of the bloodrender?

And speaking of costs . . . there was Corym E’tar. My selfishness told me what he was planning would destroy us, our relationship. As much as he consoled me and promised me he wouldn’t go through with his marriage with Zentha, how could I trust it? We had never spoken about something like this happening, or even being possible, before he left for Alfheim.

We should have spent more time planning and preparing for possible threads we’d need to cut and mend. Now, I was caught off-guard, feeling betrayed all over again.

I knew where Corym’s heart lay. It was firmly beside mine, entwined, with our unnatural, otherworldly pull bringing us together time and time again. As an elf, he had a different setof beliefs and morals when it came to marriage, unions, and partnerships. He hardly even knew Zentha.

My human side was rearing its ugly, jealous, suspicious head. Part of me wanted to yell at him, castigate him for going along withMaltorVaalnath’s plan. I knew it was foolish to ever think Corym would stray from my side—especially given what he said about Zentha’s preferences—but it was also impossible to ignore what he’d agreed to.

Closer to home, Sven had bad news about Salos Torfen, his father. He and Grim reported the alpha of the Torfen pack had been here for five days now, holed up in Fort Woden with Gothi Sigmund. Gods only knew what despicable things they were discussing, and how they’d affect all our futures.

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