Page 146 of The Last Valkyrie

. . . I figured wrong.

Standing with my spear leveled, I clenched my jaw together as the figures came into view twenty feet away.

“Randi, and whoever isn’t occupied with Corym . . . I think I need your help.”

The familiar face in front of me broke my heart in two, because it was no longer recognizable. At least it was clearhedidn’t recognizeme.

Randi looked up with a smile across her lips. “But it’s just—” Her smile vanished as she noticed what I noticed.

“Eirik,” I breathed, gasping for air. “That’s . . . not Eirik, Rand.”

Chapter 47

Arne

I WAS MOMENTARILY WHISKEDaway from the battle with the sight of black dragon wings flying overhead, through the smoke.

My stomach tightened as I wondered if it could be Swordbaron Korvan joining the battle, making things even worse.

But no. That radiant face, that lovely frame and body I had become so intimate and devoted to—I knew it was Ravinica.

A smile cracked my dry lips.

Then an arrow whizzed through the air, too close to her, and my smile faltered. Luckily she dive-rolled to the side, wings closing around her body, before swinging open and carrying her out of my sight deeper into the academy.

Snapping back to the fight at hand, rage filled me. “Don’t you fucking dare, assholes!”

My scream joined the chorus of other shouts, cries, and clangs of battle. The scent was a pungent mixture of steel, blood, and sulfuric magic. I was close to the crumbled edifice of the southern wall, joined with Axel Osfen’s soldiers and my mate Magnus, locked in a dire fight to push the enemies back.

My body was tired, but I couldn’t give up. Thane Canute was next to me, singlehandedly fighting the trollish club-wielding jotun and putting up a valiant fight. The shield wall at my backprotected my flank, but I was out of file—a few feet in front of them—and knew I was in danger.

Thankfully Magnus had my back, his cloak fluttering and tattered as he did everything he could to cut down dark elves coming at us.

The bastards were fast. They charged at the barricade of shields with their faces grinning violet in the night, skittering back before any spearheads could touch their flesh.

Vikingrune warriors were trained for defensive, methodical combat. These Dokkalfar were skirmishers, however, and brought a different skill-set to the battlefield. The only solace I got, knowing we were outgunned, was that they weren’t breaking our numbers or hitting us particularly hard.

Almost like they were waiting for something.

Parrying an elf and stepping back, I Shaped a rune near my face. The letters of the rune brightened with a glowing sapphire tone before vanishing in the air, and I reached into Niflheim to power my spell with frigid ice—so familiar and welcoming in my grip.

A flash of white erupted from my hand as I pushed it forward, directing the rune over the Dokkalfar’s head, and the others around him.

Brisk snowfall joined the choking smoke and dust, creating a thick fog of powder.

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