Spearing the Dragon

SIX

Commander Brandt stood to one side of the doors leading to the conference room, Lieutenant Commander Farmiga on the other side as they took long strides through them. Ingrid didn't look at her, she didn't want to be distracted from the matter at hand by whatever judgements she saw. There would be enough of that inside.
     The chill settled into her bones when she saw the three obscenely tall spectral figures standing beside the table, in long, thick black jackets. One turned toward her on slender legs, his eyes like pieces of ice in his snow white face. She hid it underneath intense features, but she couldn't shake the cold of the room. The individual she assumed was Chancellor Loridian walked around the table, his eyes drawn to her head before he looked away as he walked.
     "I'm surprised you have enough of the blood to sprout horns," he murmured, but his deep voice seemed to fill the room. She had expected him to refuse to be seated with her in the room. He took a seat on the head of the table not far from where they stood. Lillevenn led the way to the right side of the table, the other two Dokkalfar sitting across from them. One of them gestured to her hands, Ingrid looking down to realize her nails had elongated.
     "We only extend our nails during battle."
     She tucked away the information but not her hands as she would have a few days ago, looking up at the direct, calculating gaze of the chancellor, who sat curiously silent. The elf she'd seen on the viewscreen a little over a day ago would have spat on her on sight, but in person he seemed more watchful than disdainful. Those icy eyes of his she couldn't quite make out the color of shifted to Lillevenn, a silent command to commence. She found herself in awe of the authority he wielded without uttering a word.
     "What do you know?" Lillevenn asked without greeting them.
     "About as much as you, I'd wager," the one who had spoken replied, the chancellor keeping his silence. "The frost giants and the Ljosalfar approach Helheim in preparation for their campaign for rulership."
     "Rather ungrateful of them, considering we aided them during Ragnarok."
     The chancellor's comment drew her attention and she saw sardonic amusement in his eyes. The other elf brushed some dust from his sleeve.
     "Yes, well, that is the Ljosalfar for you. Dishonorable cows."
     Ingrid grunted a laugh before she could stop it, the chancellor looking at her with eyes she didn't care to translate.
     "Our language might not translate exactly into yours," the third elf commented.
     "An accurate description, anyhow," the chancellor said with sinister amusement in his eyes Ingrid realized she found charming. Lillevenn cleared his throat.
     "What can you tell us about their defenses?"
     Loridian tapped long, graceful fingers on the table.
     "The infamous Lillevenn doesn't know already?" Ingrid recognized the playful tone, wondering if this was truly the same elf she'd seen on the bridge. Lillevenn gave him a guarded look. The chancellor leaned forward, giving him eyes of malicious enjoyment. "You are quite the appreciator of their kind, are you not?"
      "I've only met one," Lillevenn said flatly. He glanced away from him. "She gave me a rather ominous warning, which may or may not have been for the present moment."
     "Ah, sounds like a Ljosalfr female," Loridian said in a tone dripping with mocking. Subtle smirks appeared on the other elves' features. He flicked his hand. "I'm surprised she didn't pull a fancy sword from her skirts, with some dribble about destiny and your name being written in the stars."
     Lillevenn looked down, and she could tell he tried hard not to smile.
     "Anyway," he went on, Ingrid grunting in amusement. "I know next to nothing about them."
     "Did one appear to you in your dreams, son of Loki?" Loridian teased him. Lillevenn glanced at her briefly before looking away, the chancellor's chuckle dark and indulgent, like potent red wine. "This one give you more than a prophecy, young one?"
     Lillevenn gave him a warning look but Ingrid smiled down at the table.
     "I would have if I could have made my glamour stronger."
     The other elves gave low laughs.
     "You require training, halfling," Loridian chided but she didn't hear the disdain she would have expected if she spoke. Lillevenn gave him a sharp look but said nothing, most likely because of the slur he chose, which was slightly better than "halfbreed" though she supposed it meant the same thing. They're laughing at you, not with you, Ing, don't get it twisted.
     She looked up when his gaze drew her attention, those icy eyes giving her a look of dominant sultriness that warmed her in places she didn't want to think about. She looked away quickly, Lillevenn once again clearing his throat.
     "Let's discuss battle strategy, shall we?" he asked in a tone that put an end to the idle chit chat. Ingrid tried not to look in the chancellor's direction throughout the meeting, mostly because she couldn't be sly about it with him sitting on her other side.