Page 22 of Elf Shot

The ballroom had been set with wide round tables, a full bar, and walls of glass that overlooked the water on one side, and a balcony and garden on the other.

The tables had been decorated with centerpieces much like the wreath used in the ceremony. They were made of burning white candles, freshly cut pine and fir leaves, and clusters of yellow cloud berries and bright red lingonberries. The ceiling above them was made of white panels and shone with small pieces of mirror that had been set into them in swirling designs.

Layla decided she loved Scandinavia, especially when staying in a luxury hotel and having a shifter helper, keen to bring her drinks. She took a quick selfie with the water and the beautiful room and sent it to Ciara.

See? This is how you need to do the wild north, near a fire and with a glass of delicious mead in your hand. The cold on the outside.

Layla could imagine her cousin seeing the picture and scoffing. After the trip to Germany, Ciara knew exactly how much Layla appreciated camping rough. As in not in the slightest and never again even if the apocalypse was happening.

Layla didn't mind the outdoors; she just preferred to be able to get into a warm shower and bed at the end of the day.

Layla sipped her honey mead and watched as elves, dwarves, and shifters all mingled together. There didn't seem to be any other ceremony for the night, just people hanging out and catching up. It wasn't the stuffy vibe she had been expecting at all.

"I'm going to grab another. I'll be right back," Tor said. He grinned at her playfully. "No chatting up any handsome elves while I'm gone."

"No promises. The place is packed with them," Layla replied. She wasn't wrong either. She'd caught the eye of a few, but they had changed their mind about approaching her when they had seen Tor beside her. He was meant to be her wingman, but perhaps she should have chosen someone less intimidating.

A tingle swept down her spine, and Layla knew who was behind her long before his scent of fir trees wrapped around her. A warm hand closed around hers.

"There you are. I have been looking everywhere for you," Arne said, making her turn.

"Hey," she replied, looking up at him and trying not to blush.

"Quick, we have to hurry, or we will miss it," he said and tugged her gently through the crowd. He opened a glass door that led outside and down into a garden.

"God, it's freezing out here," Layla complained.

"Yes, but look up," Arne said excitedly.

Layla glanced up at the sky and almost dropped the glass she was holding. The sky was burning with flames of green and blue and purple.

"What are the chances?" she gasped, unable to tear her eyes away.

"The elves will take it as a good omen for the proceedings," Arne said, drawing her closer and into his warmth. Layla didn't look away from the lights, too awestruck to form words. She was aware of the hand that slid to her waist but didn't object to it being there.

"What do you think? The gods are riding the Bifrost?" she asked. "Just light? Magic dust that links universes?"

"The elves believe the lights are the souls of our ancestors," Arne replied. "I like to think that they are keeping an eye on us."

Layla smiled. "Mine are probably furious with me being here right now, with the enemy, but fuck them. Racist dicks."

"The enemy, am I?" Arne laughed softly.

"Not right now, you aren't." Layla finally turned her gaze to his face. "I don't think I could have stayed mad at you for much longer to be honest."

"No?" Arne's golden eyes glowed softly. "You were doing a pretty good job of it for the past few weeks."

"I can't stay mad for long. It takes too much energy. I especially can't stay mad at someone who's so pretty," she tried to tease. The heat in her cheeks kind of ruined it for her.

"After this summit, would it be okay if I asked you out again?" he said softly.

"You are persistent, but I don't know if that's a good idea."

Arne frowned a little. "Can I ask why?"

"Because you are a prince for a start. Shouldn't you try and date princesses or something?" Layla said, her heart starting to pound.

"No. Elves don't really care about that kind of thing. Tonight's ceremony is about as formal as we get." Arne twisted one of her curls over his finger. "Any other objections?"

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