Page 72 of The Last Valkyrie

Sigmund did not apologize for being late. Of course. “Had to wrangle up these stragglers,” he said as a way of introduction, and then marched past us toward theGray Wraith.

“Brothers,” I said at Eirik and Damon as they followed their Gothi like lapdogs. “Joining us, are you?”

“Thought you could keep something so important from us, did you?” Damon sneered. His face twisted, eyes narrowing. “I’ll remember that, sister. She’s our mother too.”

Great,I thought, rolling my eyes at my mates once Damon’s back was to us.Another perceived slight to hold against me so he can claim his vengeance one day. When will this asshole give up?

Eirik tried his best at giving me a smile, but it came off as timid and unsure. “Memories, eh? Kind of nice to be heading back on the ol’Gray, isn’t it, sis?”

I flared my nostrils and nodded at him—nottohim, but at him. “It is, E. Quite ironic.”

My heart was beating faster than it should have. TheWraithwould be packed full of people now, and I didn’t really trust four of them. With Sigmund, Canute,andEirik and Damon, we wouldn’t have much room to move around on the sleek ship.

Granted, we still had them outnumbered.Is that how I’m looking at things now? With E and Damon as actual enemies?Theyhadarrived with Gothi Sigmund, after all. Who knew what kind of shit they had discussed before heading here?

I had hoped to discuss things in hushed voices with my mates en route to Selby, just to make sure we were all on the same page. Now I didn’t think we’d be able to, because there would always be a lingering ear nearby.

As we boarded theGray Wraith, Eirik put his hand out to help me over the rail. I didn’t take it, opting to use my own frail womanly hands to haul myself over the ledge.

“Why didn’t you tell us about the letter, Rav?” he asked once I was aboard, with his hand still dumbly stretched out. He looked at his palm and flattened it against his tough leather armor. “We would have listened.”

“Maybe I didn’t want you listening, E. You’ve only been my ally again for, oh, I don’t know, three days now?”

“Damon is not your enemy,” he assured me.

I snorted and walked off toward my mates at the starboard side of the ship. Sigmund and Canute stayed near the curved prow, while Damon and Eirik stayed portside.

The lines were drawn in the sand.

I had always wondered how the captains of these ships got the damned things moving, because I assumed there had to be something magical afoot.

Sure enough, my question was answered when Gothi Sigmund Shaped a few runes and brought a thick bank of gray fog rolling up around us, seemingly out of nowhere.

One minute, we were bobbing in the black, icy water with the hull gently rocking against the dock. The next minute, the ship seemed tosettle. Almost as if we were suddenly riding the cloud of fog itself, rather than the water.

“Take your positions at the oars, cadets,” Sigmund called out, not bothering to look over his shoulder. “We’ll drop the sail once we get beyond the wards.”

We took our spots on the rowing benches, two to a bench. I sat beside Grim. Sven and Arne took the spot behind me, while Corym and Magnus took the bench in front of me. On the other side of the ship, Eirik and Damon sat and pulled at their oars, while Canute took a single bench by himself.

We started rowing. The longship creaked and dragged across the cloudy water with Sigmund at the helm. He wagged his hands, making odd shapes and gestures, directing the prow to angle us toward the mass of gloomy clouds ahead that never seemed to fully go away. It seemed like he was guiding the ship telepathically, but I knew that was crazy.

There was no thunder and lightning, at least, which gave me hope the chieftain and his lieutenant knew what they were doing.

Things seemed . . . smaller now. When I had taken this ship the other direction, the entire grand world of the Isle filled me with dreams and a surreal sensation that I hadmade it.Now, theGray Wraithlooked like every other longship I’d ever been on—dull, wooden, narrow, with heaving and grunting men pulling at the oars in unison.

It was clockwork for us, falling into a rhythm like we were practiced sailors. Part of growing up in the Viking vein meant learning how to sail a ship at an early age. We used the same wood as our ancestors; had shipbuilders in every village who knew the ancient techniques.

I was filled with pride as we rowed, grunting and smiling at my mates all around me. Within a few minutes, my dreary outlook changed. As the icy wind began to slant across my face and wake me out of my funk, I took a deep lungful of air and exhaled slowly.

We were on the open sea. There was a sense of freedom in that which only a few people ever got to experience. It was somewhat like the feeling I’d gotten when I flapped my dragonwings for the first time and took to the sky. The great unknown waited for us—a vast ocean in all directions, or a vast blue sky in respect to my wings.

Over my shoulder, the coast of the Isle dwindled. From here, it looked minuscule, certainly not like the last bastion of defense against species from different worlds. With every minute that passed it shrank further and further away, until we were surrounded by only flat ocean and high winds. Even the meager icebergs and crags sank away before long, out of our vision.

Grim and Canute took the gray sail down less than an hour later, after Sigmund announced we had slipped past the wards.

The wards in this sense were spells of great power, enchantments that never truly dissolved, meant to keep outsiders away. Vikingrune Academy was not a known entity to most of the world—only other supernatural, magic folk. At least that was the theory.

I’d read in Thorvi Kardeen’s history classes—gods protect her—that no one really knew where the wards originated from. They were different than, say, the wards put into place on the Isle that kept us locked away from extraplanar portals.

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