“Lord Conalle, while the reason for your visit is a shame, you are welcome here.”
She allowed herself to assess his companions, fear spiking as she studied each form, hoping but also dreading that her captors might be present. She cursed inwardly—she couldn’t tell from where they sat on their horses.
“Lady Tordottir,” he said, stumbling over his words. “Thank you. General Arlanson was just about to show us to our lodgings.”
“Ah. You see, Lord Conalle, you should not have spoken before I finished,” she admonished, and his pale cheeks flushed pink. “I would’ve thought you had received word of my return. Latham Arlanson is not the acting general, though he did an admirable job while I was ... away. Since I am clearly not dead and have not been dishonourably stripped of my title, I am still the general. This is my camp, and these are my people.” Her words quiet and firm.
“Apologies, General Tordottir. I meant no disrespect.” He bowed his head to her. Solveig could practically see the steam puffing from Latham’s ears.
“That will do.” She paused once more, letting a strained moment of silence stretch between them before her face broke into a grin. “Come now, let us set this useless business aside and celebrate your arrival!”
Conalle’s body relaxed, and she clapped him on the shoulder. He returned her smile but some of his wariness remained. Solveig steered him through the dissipating crowd towards their dining hall.
When Latham tried to join them, Gerrie just happened to block his path so he had to dodge around her, ending up following behind the pair.
“I have a great deal of respect for the Asgardian queens, as well as the king and queen of Idavoll, and so you are indeed welcome here,” Solveig told Conalle, her voice softening. “I hope your men have recovered from my last trip to Asgard.”
“Not all have, unfortunately,” he said, still hesitant.
She couldn’t hold her composure much longer, nudging the Lord with her elbow. “It is good to see you again, Connie.”
He chuckled at the nickname and relaxed further. “My warriors’ egos were quite worse for wear after your visit, I will admit. But it has made the ones who survived stronger, so I thank you.” He faced her. “You look well, Sol. I’m glad.”
“I am well, thank you.”
He swung an arm around her shoulders and whispered in her ear, “But if you ever call me Connie in front of my people, I may just have to report back to the queens how absolutely garish you’ve become.” Solveig laughed out loud and shoved his arm off.
“You’ve just guaranteed that I will call you Connie very loudly at least once a day while you’re here.”
TheFaelordroaredwith laughter as he told his companions of Solveig’s last stay in Asgard. He was currently entertaining them with the time she’d taught a very valuable lesson to a group of males.
“So these males refused to be trained by a female, especially a Vanir female”—he tilted his head towards her—“no offence.”
“None taken, Connie. Go on.” She grinned at him over her mug when he narrowed his eyes. She just laughed and took a healthy swig of water.
“These males formed a protest of sorts. They recruited as many as they could and refused to attend the lessons. How they could think they were above a female instructor when we havetwoqueens sitting on the throne is beyond me!” He chugged his tankard of ale and slammed it down on the table. “It’s a pity really that the queens brought General Tordottir in as a special guest instructor since she’s, you know, the head oftheir armies!”
After a dramatic pause, he continued, “I thought she was going to tear them a new one or challenge them to a fight. That’s the general I knew back in the day. Always looking for trouble and a reason to knock the shit out of any Fae who glanced at her the wrong way.” He winked in her direction.
“What else was a witchling to do? Being young and stupid is a rite of passage,” Solveig said, smirking.
“Ha ha! That it is! So anyway, much to my surprise, she didn’t force the males to fight. Instead, she held the training anyway. It was mostly females who attended, and she worked them hard. Harder than she’d originally planned, I’d wager.” Solveig’s silence was confirmation. “The queens eventually got word that males were skipping their training and ordered them to attend the lessons. I cancelled my own lessons so I could see the general take them down, but she didn’t!” Another dramatic pause.
“What did she do?” one of his companions asked, slurring his words.
This lot were drinking their weight in ale, and it was starting to show. Vanir ale was strong and delicious, but she was not taking chances. She couldn’t afford to lose her inhibitions, so she drank water, hoping one of the Fae would slip up in their inebriated state.
“She welcomed them and told them they were in luck, it was evaluation day. The students who won their matches would earn a coveted spot in one of the queens’ elite battalions. You should’ve seen the smug looks on their faces! They puffed out their chests and strutted around the room like animals rutting in mating season.”
A burst of laughter roared through the crowd.
“She paired up the males who hadn’t attended her training with the Fae who had. And then, one by one, those males had their asses handed to them!” Another roar reverberated around the hall, most of the attendees’ attention on Conalle’s story.
“Wait,” he said, waving his hands around to quiet the hall, “you haven’t heard the best part. General Tordottir invited the queens to the assessments.”
“What did the queens do?” another asked.
“What could they do? There wasn’t actually a battalion for the winners to join, so the queens created one on the spot! They even went so far as performing the rites to induct them into an elite force of shieldmaidens.”
