Council of war. Not the dwarven king. The twins. Myself. Kanesha. Thruor. Loki.

 

Not Mike. I’d seen him, he was apparently enjoying himself talking to the dwarven police. Yes, they had police, although the penalty for most things short of murder seemed to be a fine and a night in the drunk tank.

 

Loki’s presence really had been solicited. “We may need a trickster,” Jorun said with a grin.

 

“Oh, I agree. I was just surprised.” He wasn’t, after all, the most popular person in the Nine Realms. “Given…”

 

“Given he’s generally viewed to be on the side of speeding up Ragnarok not stopping it.”

 

At that he gave her a sardonic grin. “Well, my daughter went and put herself right in the middle of things.”

 

That made me relax. Maybe I really had stopped Ragnarok. I had certainly done my best. “Not my fault Surtur developed a crush on me.”

 

The sardonic grin was turned on me. “Oh, I don’t know.”

 

“If I’m subtly altering my appearance I’m not doing it on purpose!”

 

He laughed. So, after a moment, did everyone else.

 

I laughed too, but my cheeks had turned slightly scarlet. Maybe I was…no. If I was doing something subconscious wouldn’t it be to keep Surtur away?

 

Unless I was more attracted to him physically than I wanted to admit. Not much I could do about that.

 

“So, Loki suggested ambushing Surtur and taking him out and hoping his army melts away. He’s using conscription, so…”

 

Ebba shuddered. “Ugh. Although at least conscripts are generally easier to fight. Just…ugh.”

 

Clearly she thought it was utterly dishonorable. Or maybe she didn’t want to fight people who didn’t want to fight. Maybe she felt that was something akin to murder.

 

Or, no, that was my own personal feeling, and I probably shouldn’t transfer it over to her or anyone else. That it was wrong to kill somebody who had not chosen to fight, freely and willingly.

 

That had to…no, maybe it did come from my father.

 

“And he’s about to come after my daughter,” Loki said grimly. “Who has the right…” He glanced at Kanesha. “…to choose her own consort.”

 

He might not agree with my choice, although I knew it was because he was worried about me being hurt by transience, not because he cared about her being a woman.

 

“So does Surtur,” I joked. “The problem is that his right to choose stops at somebody else’s right to not be chosen.”

 

That got a round of dwarven laughter.

 

“So, let’s come up with a plan.”

 

We were talking assassination. As the more honorable option. I wondered what that said about us or the situation.