Page 95 of The Last Valkyrie

“Swordbaron Korvan has mindshaping powers that rival Hersir Kelvar’s. Not only did he reveal himself as a dragonkindark elf, he also controlled the minds of my brothers to do his bidding and fight us, while he escaped with my mother like a coward.” I spat the last word, moving my gaze between all three Hersirs.

Dahlia said nothing, her lips firm as she stared at me. I wilted from her gaze, as if she was trying to see how I felt about my brothers. She clearly had an opinion about all this because her own daughter had died getting too close to me.

Is that a now-you-know-how-I-feel look she’s throwing me?

Kelvar showed a hint of concern. “Your family faced a tragic loss, Ravinica. For that, I am sorry. It should have never happened.”

“Stealing away to Selby Village at a time like this was foolish to begin with!” Hersir Jorthyr exclaimed. His frustration made his voice crack, and I thought I saw a blur of tears welling in his eyes before he blinked them away. “Sigmund would know what to do about the jotnar on our doorstep.”

“Would he?” My blasphemous words earned gasps from Dahlia and Ingvus for besmirching our courageous leader’s good name. I shrugged in response. “He led us to the Selfsky Plains, and look what that got us.”

“Intelligence about the state of our enemy,” Kelvar said, as if speaking to a child. “It was not for nothing. Yes, we took heavy losses. So did our enemy.”

“Problem is, they have unlimited resources to draw upon,” Thane Canute chimed in. “If the draug don’t need to eat or sleep, and can be constantly reanimated, we can’t expect to keep up with that.”

My mates stepped forward, apparently having their own silent conversation with non-verbal language and looks behind us.

Corym said, “I can return to Alfheim and demand to knowMaltorVaal—”

“No,” Dahlia interjected harshly. “No one is leaving this academy until we have a plan. No more gallivanting through the Isle. Not while terrors such as this are upon us.”

There was something in her eyes when she said it. More than sadness and concern. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I got the sense that there was another reason she didn’t want us staking out to the elf portal alone.

She likes to watch people, I know that. Even more than Kelvar does. Magnus and his trek to the elf encampment, with Huscarls cherry-picked by the Tomekeeper to be his assassins, is proof of that.

So what was I missing? Why didn’t she want us going out therethistime? As I already knew, she hated us.Wouldn’t getting rid of ushelpher?

“I’m in agreement,” Hersir Jorthyr said with a nod. “Obviously this little mission to Selby Village was ill-advised. All it led to was more death.”

“And more information., revealing the man we must face in order to get our enemies off our shores.” Kelvar pulled at his chin. He stared far off, to the floor, sitting again.

“Yes, and about that,” Dahlia said, “why do you think he chosenowto reveal himself?”

I took a deep breath. Now that Sigmund was dead, I felt there was no need to hold back.Here goes nothing.

“I believe it has something to do with the fact that I, Hersirs, am also a dragonkin.”

The next morning, rioters were out in full force. I woke up early to the sounds of raging students. Shrill voices and shouting filtered in through my longhouse window.

My mates had stayed with me, no one trusting that the Hersirs had our best interests at heart. We trusted Kelvar, but Dahlia and Ingvus were wild cards. They didn’t exactly react well to my news about being a dragonkin.

We unanimously decided we needed to stick together for the foreseeable future—hopefully forever, in my mind—to keep everyone off our backs. Last thing we wanted was one of us getting picked off for any reason, as some kind of vengeance for Sigmund’s death, meant to punish the lot of us.

It was a good thing we stayed together, too, because the first conflict came ten minutes after waking up.

We were headed to a cafeteria to fill our bellies for the morning. The mess hall closest to my longhouse in Eir Wing, east, always had stale bread and unfathomably wet cheese, but the western cafeteria near Gharvold Hall, which fed the garrison and most of its workers, was solid.

A wall of fire rose up in front of us, sizzling and causing Magnus to tug me backward.

My mates quickly surrounded me as a group emerged around the two hillocks on the side of the road. In the group were Ayla, Gryphon, and Telmont. The bald-headed, beady-eyed initiate Telmont Perridan was the last of Damon’s clique, while Ayla and Gryphon were my brother Eirik’s lovers and comrades. Behind them stood five other men and women looking angry, hands tapping on the hilts of their hip-swords.

Ayla took the lead, the corded young woman crossing her arms over her chest and scowling as we stopped and went into a battle formation in the middle of the road. My mates surrounded me in a shield wall.

“What in Hel did you do with Damon and Eirik?” she called out. “What black magic is afoot in the Isle, bastards?”

Shit. They think we played a part in my brothers’ deaths. And why not? We were enemies. Eirik was ready to faceoff against Sven and Grim months ago. Damon constantly badgered me. Even though we came to an understanding shortly before his death—not to tell Sigmund about my dragonkin heritage—he still loathed me.

Admittedly, our situation looked quite suspicious.

---