Page 98 of The Last Valkyrie

Grim, towering over everyone behind our line at the wall, said, “Those are the frowns of focused warriors, Sven. You may not know anything about what a warrior looks like, but—”

“Okay, okay,” I said, hushing them so they’d stop bickering. “I think we can all agree the elves look dashing and dangerous at the same time. Sven is right though, we won’t know their intentions until we speak to them. Corym, do you see who’s leading them?”

He squinted, looking out past the initial congregation of elves nearest the gate. They were on foot, no cavalry to be seen, with white and red cloaks flapping against their burnished armor. Some soldiers were still walking up the winding mountainside path, out of sight.

“Not yet. Soon. Perhaps I should go down to get a better look. It would be wise to have an emissary to greet them.”

I nodded. “Right. One of their own. Good idea.”

With that, Corym took off, hurrying down the stairs behind us. He seemed like a kid in a candy shop, excited to provide aid and see the faces of his people again in Midgard.

I shouldered Sven once he was gone, glowering at him. “Do you have to be an asshole all the time? Even if you’re right? Saying shit like that dims Corym’s light. Makes him feel like nothing he can do is enough.”

He returned my glower twofold. “Are you speaking for the elf now, little menace? He’s a grown-ass man, and he can handle himself. Besides, look around us.” He motioned with his chin, trying not to make a scene at the students standing at the walls to our left and right.

I glanced both ways, leaning forward over the parapet, and grimaced.

“The humans have nastier frowns on their faces than the elves even do,” Sven said. “They look ready for blood.”

Damn. He’s not wrong.

Grim said, “They’ve been taught to hate the elves their entire lives. Of course they—”

“Exactly,” Sven cut in sharply. “Which is why we must be cautious. You saw what happened to us half an hour ago with Ayla and that crew. And those were humans—comrades. Now we’re adding a whole new element to the powder keg.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek as my mates fell quiet. As oppositional as Sven acted, he was turning out to be quite the leader, knocking us down a peg when we were getting on our high horses. I respected it, even if I didn’t enjoy it.

I caught Corym down below among the elves, pushing past the Huscarls at the gate to embrace the first row of them. He spoke excitedly, hands circling, saluting, and it made me smile.At least someone sees the potential of what this means. If the light elves are here, we might have a chance.

“More mouths to feed, too,” Magnus pointed out. Seemed he was leaning into Sven’s Debbie Downer routine. “Remember what the Hersirs said last night? Not having enough food to helpthe Isleton folk was one of the main reasons they didn’t want to let them into the academy.”

Arne nudged his sharp chin over the wall. “They brought wagons. Surely there’s food in there.”

“Yes, but how much? How long are they expecting this campaign to last? Can we count on the elves to stick with us until the bitter end, no matter how violent and deadly it gets?”

These were all great questions Magnus posed. They were also questions we couldn’t answer, because as the Hersirs had made abundantly clear last night, we were merely cadets, not leaders.

“Then we hunt,” I said.

The guys look at me askew.

“What?” Sven asked.

“We know Delaveer Forest. There’s plenty of game in there.” I shrugged, trying to stay optimistic. “If we’re worried about food supplies, we find more. If we’re worried about their allegiance, we negotiate and compromise with them. Give them things they need, whatever that may be. Money? I hear your father has a shitload of that, Sven.”

He blinked at me, astounded.

Grim chuckled. “I don’t know how far human currency of any kind will go with Ljosalfar, lass, but your point is made.”

I smiled at him. “Thank you.”

Still resting with his chin on his forearms over the parapet, Magnus tapped his chin. “I wonder if the Skogalfar are also en route, or if they got cold feet. They have even less of a reason to fight, because they hate the Dokkalfaranddislike the Ljosalfar.”

My smile flipped into a frown. “Don’t give up hope, guys. Give it a little time.”

“How much time do we have?” Sven pondered.

I took it as a rhetorical question.

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