Page 10 of The Last Valkyrie

Then again, I’d only known I was part-dragon fordays.More and more things would come to light over time, I suspected. The people closest to me remembering some esoteric tidbit about my history would break my world all over again. I wasn’t looking forward to those moments.

The previous conversations with my mates and various people kept coming back to me, drawing me away from the present, dire situation we were in.

A talk with Arne, for instance, both of us abed and fooling around while he spoke about his time as Gothi Sigmund’s spy. We had been guessing what the Gothi wanted with me—why he’d sent Arne to spy on me.

“If I had to guess, little fox, I would say it has to do with Hallans’ beautiful stepdaughter . . . Who oddly, fascinatingly,has the heart of a human . . . but the features of humanity’s most hated enemy.”

Back then, it had been a blithe statement for Arne to say to try and satiate my desire for answers. Now, it took on whole new meaning.Yes, humanity’s most hated enemy. But it’s not the elves or the giants. For Sigmund, it’s the dragons that killed his ancestor!

It frightened me. Did that mean Sigmund had some inkling about my true nature, before I did? Wasthatwhy he watched me like a hawk, to prove some hypothesis of his? Or was it truly because my ears showed me to be part-elf, and humans like him simply didn’t trust elves?Am I a novelty to the Gothi . . . or a threat that must be extinguished?

If I was a threat, he would have ended me already. As the chieftain of the academy, he had ample opportunity to do it. In truth, I wasn’t sure I could stop him.

All of this was leading me down a dark path as blind corners started to come into focus. Recollections of my conversations with Lady Elayina—about my “specialness,” my origins, and eventually my existence offering a key to her prophecy—swam through my mind like a river bending over a waterfall.

One clear thought rang in my head over and over again:Ihaveto speak with my mother!

Now more than ever I needed answers. As Elayina had suggested, Lindi was perhaps the only person who could answer my questions.If Ma knows who my father is, this can all be clarified. Does she have any idea of my dragonblood?Couldshe?

Hallan Borradan was not my father, obviously. My stepfather had always hated me. For years I understood it was because I was themiddlechild in his and Lindi’s relationship. My brothers bookending me—younger and older—were born from Hallan and Lindi.

So what happened? How did Ma have a child while married to Hallan—a child who wasn’tfromHallan? She’s never answered that.

In the past, she shut down when I asked. We nearly came to blows in one vicious exchange during my teenage years when I’d been feeling particularly rebellious and outraged.

The most glaring answer, and the one that stayed with me for many years, was adultery. It was the simplest excuse: Lindi cheated on Hallan, got pregnant, decided to keep me, and my stepfather had hated me since the day I was born.

If that was the case, I guess I couldn’t blame Hallan for loathing me. Even if I hated the guy, it would suck to be in his predicament, having to look at my face every day and be reminded of his wife’s infidelity.

But Ma had never confirmed nor denied that answer, so it wasn’t so simple.

“Don’t spiral, love,” said a voice next to me. Grim marched at my side, watching as I put one foot in front of the other and stared down at my boots.

“Oh, it’s much too late for that, big guy. I’ve been spiraling since we set off from camp.”

I wasn’t even sure how long we had walked. It seemed like minutes yet my legs ached again, leading me to believe it had been hours.

Grim inclined his chin. “Pure night ahead, Vini. The trees are clearing. We’re coming up on the plains.”

“Shit.” I gulped, trying my hardest to push aside the thoughts plaguing my mind.I’ll sail to Selby Village immediately after this. Do whatever I have to to get there, especially if Ma’s sick. I’ll get the answers I need, even if it hurts her to tell me.“Time to get down to brass tacks, huh?”

Grim gave me a small nod, his features tight and tense. “Best get your spear ready, love. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long night.”

We were ordered to stay awake all night, making a tight camp near the tree line, looking out into the purple moon-swathed Selfsky Plains. The moon shone high and bright. The wind swept through the rushes in waves of grain. Behind us and all around, it made an eerie whistle through the trees and branches.

The plains were relatively flat, save for a few rolling hills and high knolls scattered about. Miles ahead, it gave way to the base of the Telvos Mountains—huge, looming towers of gray stone. The high peaks were lost in the clouds when I craned my neck.

Worse than not allowing us to sleep, Hersir Osfen ordered no fires be lit. We had to maintain silence and secrecy, so any enemies out in the plains would be blind to our presence.

I sat in a grim circle with my mates and Dagny. Nearby, Axel Osfen had set up a makeshift, open-sided command tent where he discussed the coming battle with Hersir Kelvar and a few other high-ranking captains. They spoke in hushed voices, and I couldn’t make out what they were saying.

After a scout rustled from the eastern trees—nearly getting a blade drawn on him from our flank watchmen—he disappeared into Axel’s tent. Soon after, word spread through the ranks that we’d be marching up the gut of the plains at dawn, once sufficient light guided us. Sigmund’s troop was ready northeast of us, hiding under starlight.

By the time we charged, the eastern force led by Gothi Sigmund and Thane Canute would be well on their way to flanking the mountains, causing any enemies to fight on twofronts. The western company led by Hersirs Kardeen and Selken would be ready by then and would provide a third front for us to wrap around the enemy.

I bounced my knee incessantly, waiting for the command. My shield and spear were on my thighs. Sven sharpened a sword on a whetstone, while Arne picked arrows from a quiver and examined the heads. Magnus would use his strange bloodsword. He sat still in the darkness, his pale face glinting moonlight through the trees. Grim stood against a tree—nearly as tall as it, with the head of his huge war-axe planted in the ground. Corym sat beside me, checking his magical dagger while keeping his shining elven sword sheathed so it didn’t reflect any light.

We were ready.

---