Page 94 of The Last Valkyrie

“And you say the dark elves have returned to the Isle on theYellow?” Kelvar asked afterward, standing with his hands splayed out on the table.

Canute nodded. “TheYellow Wraithwasn’t at the dock when we arrived, obviously.”

“Which means they must be sailing around the eastern or western edges of the island.” Kelvar tapped his chin, lost in thought. “I’ll send scouts to patrol.”

Hersir Jorthyr paced endlessly, chewing on his nails with his head bowed, clearly exasperated and in a state.

Tomekeeper Dahlia rose from her seat. “Do the students know about Sigmund yet?”

Canute shook his head.

“Let us keep it that way.”

I scoffed. “Good luck with that.” I motioned behind me, stepping aside, and my mates marched in holding the stretcher with Sigmund’s body on it, the cloak covering his frame. “Everyone saw this. And they had questions.”

Dahlia hissed. “You idiots brought himhere?”

“Careful with your tone, woman,” Thane Canute answered in his gravelly voice. He folded his massive arms over his chest. “I would not leave the Gothi to rot beyond the Isle. He belongs here, buried among his family and other great men and women of Vikingrune Academy.”

I admired Canute’s deference to our dead chieftain, even if I felt he was misguided in who he should be protecting and following. As Kelvar had once told me, the Whisperer was not beholden to any single man or woman, he was beholden to the academy itself.

Canute did not share that feeling. From what I could tell, he took Sigmund Calladan’s death personally. I suspected they had been friendly after knowing each other for so many years. Maybe evenmorethan friendly. I wasn’t going to start that rumor or judge it even if it was true.

Kelvar began pacing, perpendicular to Ingvus. It was comical seeing the two aged men relegated to anxious children, nearly bumping into each other as they walked and crossed paths.

The Whisperer said, “A vote will need to be held.”

“A vote?” I asked.

“To decide the next Gothi. This school cannot remain leaderless for any length of time.”

Ingvus and Dahlia were nodding.

Dahlia said, “I’ll assemble the council on an emergency basis. Doesn’t matter if it’s in the dead of night. The Hersirs will come.”

Seemed that situation was in hand. In my mind, it didn’t matter which one of them took the reins. Sigmund had been a force and apresence—anyone other than him leading Vikingrune Academy would be a mere shadow of the man. I did not envy the person who took that position.

“The students will have questions,” I said, trying to play the game by giving the Hersirs a chance to tag in.Even if I don’t use their words, it would be nice to be on the same page as them.Maybethisis how I bring Ingvus and Dahlia on my side, using the Gothi’s death as a uniting effort.

Crazier things had happened.

The idea that Sigmund’s death could be agoodthing made me feel like a piece of shit. I also had to remember his secret nickname had been the “dragonslayer,” and I was the only dragon at the academy. So, that aspect made me feel less like a piece of shit when I proverbially danced on his grave.

Kelvar looked at Canute, then at me, then at my five silent mates lined up behind me. “Ravinica, I’ve seen you work firsthand, in Alfheim. I’m not afraid to admit I was wrong about you. Perhaps you can be our conduit—the person who can speak to the academy on our behalf, as I said before, while we get this situated.”

To hear him say he wanted my help—the academyitselfwanted my help—in public for everyone to hear, shocked me. I blinked and slowly nodded. “I . . . can do that. I think.”Is he asking me to relay the thoughts of the Hersirs . . . or to be their mouthpiece? Because one is very different from the other.“I won’t cover up the truth for your sakes, though.”

The corner of his lip lifted. “I would expect nothing less.”

“We have questions also,” Dahlia said.

My gaze swung to the gray bird-nest hair atop her head.

“You left with more people than you came back with,” the Tomekeeper went on. “And I don’t just mean Sigmund. What happened during the dark elves’ ambush?”

My shoulders sank. I shrank before their scrutiny and bowed my head. “Damon Halldan is dead. Eirik Halldan escaped with the elves.”

“What?” Hersir Jorthyr gasped, spinning to us on his heels. “The Drengr of two terms ago turned coat?”

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