Latham blew out a long breath as the memory swirled in his head.
He had proven his ability to be a strength for her. He’d been her second in command—her support. When he disagreed with her plan of action, he let her know it. She grew into a strong leader because of him, because he didn’t lie at her feet like an animal.
She had yet to invite him into her bed again, though she’d taken other lovers. To hide his devastation, he did the same, always picturing her when his hands roamed the breasts of another. Pretending it was her voice calling out his name as someone else moaned. And when he came, he pictured her coming undone at the same time.
The females always left his bed satisfied, but he could never remember their faces. Only hers. His cock hardened as he watched her walk away—one hundred and fifty years of watching her walk away from him. He would need to relieve this ache before following her.
It would be irreverent to have a hard-on while they worked to form the raiding party, considering at least one of them would die.
He called out to tell her he’d be there in ten minutes. She barely acknowledged him, only lifting her hand in answer, and he went to beat off to the bittersweet memory once again.
Withoutbreakinghertrainof thought, Solveig glanced up as Latham entered the tent. He appeared a little worse for wear. She figured he was just as exhausted with the endless raids as she was. As they all were.
With a raid every six months for fifty years, they’d lost a hundred soldiers. No matter what strategy she implemented or how careful they were, one was always taken and never seen again. Others died in the process for the cause.
A cause Solveig barely believed in anymore.
It had taken decades to settle into a new normal before the fight to get their magic back began. A fight that had so far been fruitless.
The raids began under the guise of stealing provisions from the mortals.
In reality, they were planting spies and attempting to gain information by way of prisoners. They were not always successful in capturingsomeone and even less so in acquiring anyone who would have vital information. Or even vaguely useful information.
Given the mortals’ short lifespan, each new generation brought them further from the information they so desperately needed. Only after capturing and interrogating the daughter of a Midgard ruler had they discovered that their magic was still inside them, suppressed somehow but not gone entirely.
With this new knowledge, the Queens of Asgard aligned with the King of Jotunheim in hopes that the magical races would have more success if they worked together. Jotunheim was intent on the raids, despite very little success, and insisted they continue.
Solveig gritted her teeth. She had tried to advise her mothers not to include the Giants in their alliance with the Trifold. She may have been more successful if the Trifold was still as strong as it once was. But Alfheim had largely kept to themselves since the war, while Idavoll pulled away from Asgard and Vanaheim entirely.
Unrest was a poison spreading through the lands, killing the roots of trust so it could no longer grow.
Unfortunately, with the mortals and their new weapons infiltrating each city, town, and village across the realms, they had no choice but to join forces with the Giants and Dwarven across the seas.
“We should have volunteers. It’s the only fair way,” Gerrie argued as Latham joined their table.
“Last time we asked for volunteers they only did so at the promise of extra grain for their families. I won’t take advantage of those less fortunate,” Solveig replied. Though they tried to keep their camp equal, it was a tough balancing act. Poverty still found its way in through the spilling of blood. It always came down to blood.
“What if we didn’t compensate anyone?” Gerrie offered.
“Last time we did that, no one volunteered.”
“A draw?” she suggested.
“And have luck determine the fate of our people? No.” Solveig couldn’t afford to believe in luck.
“One person from each battalion?”
“I need fourteen soldiers with me. There are only six battalions residing in camp.”
“Have the soldiers play cards and whoever loses has to go,” Gerrie suggested casually.
Solveig rolled her eyes. Gerrie was one of her best soldiers and trusted advisors. She was brash and held no devotion to any one realm, loyal only to Solveig and absolutely ferocious with her spear. Solveig had once witnessed her take out ten warriors without breaking a sweat.
Gerrie would have no problem choosing who would go on this raid—which was why she was not in charge.
Apathy did not make for good leadership.
“Technically we only need twelve more soldiers,” Latham added quietly. Solveig prepared herself as their gazes locked for longer than necessary.
