Spearing the Dragon

NINE

Her eyes watched him like a nightmare as Loridian stepped inside the conference room. They weren't full black, but they might as well have been. Sometimes he wondered what had stopped her from murdering him in his sleep the last two hundred years, so obvious was her disdain for him. He took his place at the head of the table, Lillevenn seated at the first chair to his right, his ball and chain next to him. He was brave, that son of Loki.
     Terynzia looked away from him as though she didn't care whether he lived or died, her coldness as clear as her hatred.
     "Where are we?" Lillevenn asked without preamble, folding his hands in front of him.
     "The army is assembled and waiting for deployment," Alvaen answered rather than Terynzia, who sat like an angry stone, waiting for a drop of blood to bring her to life.
     "When will they arrive?" Lillevenn asked.
     "Inside a fortnight," the elf replied.
     "So two weeks. Let's hope our friends don't show up before then."
     "I can best a few Ljosalfar vessels," Terynzia said in a low voice.
     "They know what you can handle and will plan accordingly," Loridian said in a sharp tone. His mate looked toward a wall as though exercising patience.
     "The frost giants will not have vessels of their own, correct?" Lillevenn asked as though they hadn't spoken.
     "They are not space-faring," Alvaen replied in his ever-calm voice. "They will be traveling through the bridges. Some may be kept on Ljosalfar vessels, but they require certain accommodations."
     "Due to their size?" Lillevenn asked.
     Alvaen nodded. "They span from seven to nine feet tall. Just like them, their needs would be large, and the voyage to reach us would take them at least four days."
     "What preparations should my grandmother be taking? For the ground assault."
     "No one need worry about Hel," Loridian said, earning a sharp look from his mate though he couldn't imagine why, other than the fact that he'd spoken. "Let us move on. What about Midgard's defenses?"
     "Commander Brandt informs me an armada will be arriving within the next few days."
     "What are the numbers in an armada?" Terynzia asked.
     "Twelve," Lilleveen replied quickly.
     "Battle cruisers?"
     He gave an acquiescent nod. "The equivalent."
     Terynzia narrowed her eyes. She looked at Loridian.
     "Perhaps we should call on Muspelheim."
     "Absolutely not," Loridian disagreed immediately. "That subject is closed." He looked to Alvaen and asked a question about numbers, Terynzia pressing her lips together in frustration, but said nothing more.

Lillevenn sat on the couch, sharing a glass of red wine with Loridian, discussing strategy when Terynzia strode inside, looking like she went to war. Lillevenn gave her an appreciative gaze but Loridian stiffened, his hand tightening on his glass.
     "This is my private space, Terynzia—"
     "Why send for me if you're just going to shut me down in meetings?" she said in a near growl but Lillevenn's gaze gentled, seeing she was offended. Loridian leaned forward, setting his glass down on the table loudly.
     "I didn't send for you, you came early—"
     "You asked me to come and provide aid—"
     "With the rest of the armada!"
     Her features hardened and Lillevenn could see her mate's words had hurt her. He wondered how the man could be so intelligent and not see what was right in front of him. She straightened her spine, giving him a cold look that only went skin deep.
     "We all know how much you resent me—"
     "Who's fault is that?" he snapped.
     "I'm just trying to protect you!"
     He stood with fire in his eyes.
     "I don't need your protection! I have a guest! Is it beyond the great Teryznia the Terrible to ring the bell?"
     She pressed her lips together, her hands fists at her sides, Lillevenn expecting her eyes to go black any second. Instead, she turned and stormed from his suite. Lillevenn looked after her compassionately while Loridian sat heavily.
     "My apologies," he said in a defeated voice.
     "I think you should go after her."
     Loridian looked at him in surprise. Lillevenn rose.
     "I promised Ingrid we would spend some time together tonight. She raised a reasonable question, you know."
     He shook his head. "The elf is out of her mind. Everyone knows the fire giants don't play well with others, they're the closest thing to evil in this universe—"
     "She's thinking about winning, not their morality," he interjected and Loridian leaned against the back of his couch, his eyes softening.
     "I'm disappointed you're leaving."
     "Your mate needs a word with you, Loridian," he said before turning away, chiding himself on sounding so abrupt. You can be a real dick sometimes, he told himself as he left his suite.