Chapter 12 | Ravinica

Chapter 12

Ravinica

CUTE, DAMON. REAL CUTE . “Bad blood.” Like your little overturned-bucket-full-of-blood trick. The sarcasm in my thoughts was steep.

As Damon waltzed into the dining hall, he said over his shoulder, “I’ve already set a place for you at the table.”

I was intensely suspicious. My blood boiled, until Grim put a calming hand on my arm.

“I don’t think this is smart, sneak.”

I glared at him, though my anger wasn’t meant for him. “I know it’s not. But I have to do something .”

“Sven had an idea what that something could be . . .”

“What, murder him in his sleep? He’s still my half-brother, Grim.” I smiled sadly at my tall protector. “I’d rather try to mend our bad relations than let them fester.”

“You think he’s being honest here?”

“Probably not.”

With a chuckle, we headed into the cafeteria.

Grim said in a low voice, “I’ll be close.”

“I know, love. You always are.” I shoulder-checked him, but it was me who moved, not him—the damned wall of muscle that he was.

Things had been looking so good, too. Me and Grim, locked in a tender embrace as I consoled him over the tragic story he’d told me. I loved finding out new things from my mates. Learning how they arrived at Vikingrune just added to their fascinating lore.

I’d heard his and Arne’s tales. I just had a couple more to run down. But first, this.

And this was not what I wanted to see.

Damon had made friends in the three weeks leading up to his first term at the academy. He was here early—a full year had not even passed since the Wraiths went out to round up the newest group of initiates.

Our recent losses—Astrid, Corta, the countless Huscarls, caused by me and my men, mostly—had put Gothi Sigmund in a desperate situation to bring on more recruits.

We were fodder to the academy. Damon just didn’t know it yet. Here he was, sitting at a table with two sniveling initiates I didn’t recognize, and four people I did.

My older brother, Eirik, was one of them. He was smiling at something Damon had just said, clapping him on the back from his rousing tale.

Everyone was smiling at the table, in fact, while Damon’s hands gesticulated with the force of his story, speaking past a mouthful of bread. Without a care in the world.

I didn’t mind seeing Eirik and Damon together. They were full-blooded brothers, after all. No, it was the expression on Eirik’s face that made me bristle, and my heart tug. The casual way he conversed with Damon like he was the most important man at the table. Like they were best friends.

My elder brother had never shown me that side of him my entire initiate term. Eirik had brought me to the Warden as his first order of business. There, I’d been promptly threatened with exile, before orientation had even started.

Then my half-brother tossed me to the wolves—quite literally, as he was nowhere to be seen when Sven and his pack first attacked me. It had been Grim , a stranger, who saved my ass.

Ever since Astrid and Corta’s deaths, and my part in them—however indirect—Eirik had become even more distant. It was like someone had told him to stay away from me, because I couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t be looking out for his little sister at this cutthroat academy.

I had looked up to him as a younger girl. As kids, he had been my hero. Hel below, Eirik talked as much shit about Damon as I did! And now this? Paling around with him over pancakes and bacon?

It hurt. It hurt to see, it hurt to relive, and now the anger bubbling up inside me mingled with sadness and resentment.

It took everything I had to keep my temper down as I approached the table, Grim setting up shop a few feet behind me at a smaller one.

The other people besides Damon’s trio and Eirik were Eirik’s part-time lovers and full-time groupies, Ayla, Gryphon, and Tyrus. There was a single empty spot at the longtable, with a tray of steaming flapjacks, bacon, and eggs waiting for me, as well as a clear glass of orange juice.

My stomach growled in protest as I hesitantly sat down, eyeing the whole table. When my eyes made it to the orange juice, I raised a brow. “OJ? Haven’t seen this here in months.”

Orange trees wouldn’t survive in this current climate.

“I got it specially imported,” Damon said, bobbing his eyebrows like it was a well-kept secret. He cracked his knuckles, smiling. “I still have my connections, you know.”

“Sister!” Eirik cried out as I settled in next to him. He was finishing his laughter from Damon’s story, rubbing his eyes, and when I sat next to him, he clapped my shoulder. “How has hibernation been for you?”

I shrugged.

Damon sat opposite me, his eyes never leaving my face.

Say nothing for Damon Halldan, but he was a talker. He had a way with people, charismatic, as evidenced by the two initiate friends sitting next to him.

They weren’t friends from Selby Village, because only one initiate per village was chosen each round. Which meant he had befriended them in the short time he’d been here.

One of them was a skinny fellow with a bald head and big bug-eyes. The other was a strong-looking lass with shoulders wider than mine—which was saying something—and a glint in her eye every time she looked over at my brother, who was smaller than her.

Damon caught me glancing at them. He gestured to his left, at the bald boy, who looked around eighteen. “This is Talmont Perridan, from Hesther Village. You know Hesther, right? Just up the road from Selby.”

I blinked. Interesting he’s made a friend here from a neighboring village. I felt there was more to the story of their friendship. I also wouldn’t underestimate Talmont, despite his size, because it took grit to make it to Vikingrune Academy. That, or funding from a rich family . . .

Pointing to his right, hand on the large woman, he said, “And Gertrude Lanfen.”

I nodded slowly. My eyes snappd wider as I recognized the surname, Lanfen. Wolf shifter. Rival pack with Sven, the same pack that ambushed him.

I glanced down at my food to hide my surprise, humming my acknowledgement to the newcomers. With the pleasantries out of the way, I started eating. The orange juice was a nice touch, with the pulpy burn of it washing down the bacon and eggs.

“Your older sister’s made quite a name for herself in the year she’s been here, D,” Eirik said.

“Oh?” Damon said innocently, perking his brow.

Eirik tossed a thumb over his shoulder. “See the big bastard over there? One of the best fighters at the school.” He smiled wide at me. “Vini took him down.”

Damon gave me an impressed pout, which I ignored while I kept my head bowed and slightly blushed from the compliment.

This wasn’t like Eirik—cheery, relaxed, shooting the shit. Honestly, I didn’t like it. Maybe I was just being a sourpuss, but I felt extremely uncomfortable sitting around the table of near-enemies.

Gods, girl, get a hold of yourself. Eirik isn’t your enemy! The only thing Ayla, Tyrus, and Gryphon have ever done to me is accidentally flash their goods when they answered the door. Well, Ayla hadn’t “accidentally” done shit. She had purposefully arrived at the door with her tits out.

That had been a surprising situation, learning my brother was getting as much tail as I was. I’d never taken him for a man to indulge himself in . . . extracurricular activities.

“I thought you were the best fighter, E,” Damon said, nudging his chin across the table. “Or should I say, Drengr .” He finished with a mock bow.

Everyone around the table snickered, except me. Gryphon looked at my elder brother with stars in his eyes.

Eirik gave Damon a crooked smile and winked. “I said Grim was one of the best, brother.”

You kidding, E? Grim would eat you alive, I thought.

Granted, I’d never seen Eirik fight in recent years. He was too busy locking himself away in his cabin with his fawners, or out on field duty. I still didn’t really know what Eirik did here, or what made him so important. How did he earn his title of Drengr, warrior, anyway? I’m assuming the reason it didn’t go to Grim was because of Anders Rennarfen’s death.

There was as much politics at Vikingrune Academy as anywhere else in the world, I’d come to notice. As much subterfuge and lies, too.

“So, you became a badass, sis?” Damon asked, chewing into some crispy bacon.

I shrugged again, not wanting to grant myself any accolades. I didn’t have my bearings.

“She’s humble,” Eirik said. “But yes, she has.”

Why the hell are you being so nice, E? You’re making it hard to be angry at you. That was probably his plan, I realized.

Damon shrugged, sitting back. “Well, that makes sense. You always were a baddie back at Selby . . .”

I continued eating, head bowed.

“. . . even when you betrayed me.”

I choked on my food, coughing once, and glanced up. He stared at me with a menacing smile, which was unnerving. More so than straight-up rage. The malice in that smile, in his dark eyes, nearly made me shudder.

Then I remembered I had beaten Damon’s ass all over Selby Village for years. Nothing had changed. I could do it here too, if it came down to it.

“I’m assuming that’s why you’ve been a pain in my ass since coming here, brother?” I asked him in a low voice.

The lighthearted banter and soft conversation ceased, everyone falling quiet and finding their food much more interesting.

Except for Damon, who continued staring at me in that lizard-like, unblinking way. “What ever do you mean, dear sister?”

I slammed my glass of orange juice down. “Don’t play the fool with me, Damon. The missing pillows from my dwelling? The missing clothes from the riverside where I bathed?”

At that, I felt Grim stiffen out my peripheral vision.

I’d never told my guys about having to run naked back to my dwelling two weeks ago, arms covering my bits as students laughed at me. It was fucking juvenile—the exact M.O. of my younger half-brother.

Damon tilted his head coyly, a mock expression of innocence on his face that was infuriating. “That sounds miserable, Vini. No pillow ? What heathen would do such—”

“And how about the blood bucket?”

“The blood bucket ?” Eirik murmured to his allies.

“I find it quite a coincidence you wanted to get out the ‘bad blood’ today, brother .”

Damon shrugged it off. “Oh, Vini. You’re seeing shadows where there aren’t any, I’m afraid. Has your time at Vikingrune made you so paranoid?”

This damned gaslighter. It was just like him.

And yet, something had changed about Damon since I’d seen him last. Back then, he’d been a drunkard and a whore. Clearly he already had half of that equation in the bag with Gertrude Lanfen here, but that wasn’t it.

No, it was the glint in his eye that was different. He used to be . . . sloppy. Irritating. Pitiful, honestly.

Now? He seemed more calculating. Put-together. Way more confident than he should have been being surrounded by so many people stronger than him.

I knew whatever revenge scheme he was cooking up was on the horizon, yet I couldn’t place what it might be. Everything he’d done so far had been nothing more than nuisances, minor inconveniences. Though the blood bucket had been gross. Whose blood had it been? A pig’s?

He was being his typical annoying self, but I knew it was leading to something.

“Sister, your face is red. I can practically see the smoke coming out of your ears.” Damon tsked, shaking his head. “You’ve got to lighten up. It’s not good to wrinkle your—”

“Shut up,” I spat, pushing my plate. “Just shut up.”

Damon looked struck, head reeling. “Gods, Vini, that’s no way to break bread. I’m here trying to make good on the fact you knocked me unconscious to get here—”

“No you’re not,” I cut in. He wasn’t smiling anymore, his lips firmed. “You’re trying to rile me up. Trying to make me slip. What is it you want, Damon?”

Eirik said, “Please, Vini, things were going so well . . .”

I elbowed his arm, scowling. “You can shut it too, Eirik. Don’t act like we’re some big happy family. You were the one steering the damned Gray Wraith. You left Selby knowing I was on board!”

Eirik’s face darkened.

These two had Fucked Around with me, and now they were in the Find Out stage. I wasn’t going to put up with their bullshit any longer.

My muscles tensed as I leaned forward, closer to Damon. “ Why are you here , Damon?”

“Because I deserve to be!” he yelled, slamming his fist on the table, rattling the plates. Students from other tables glanced over. His eyes were only for me, filled with hate and rage. “And you don’t , you fucking cheat,” he hissed.

I felt the looming presence of Grim. He’d bolted up from his seat when he noticed things quickly going south.

“Ravinica.” His drawl was a warning tone, not to fall into my brother’s trap, or whatever this was.

But it was too late for me. I couldn’t contain my anger any longer—not when I was staring into eyes that hated me.

“I’m not sorry for what I did,” I told Damon, standing from the table, leaning forward with both hands splayed on it. “You didn’t deserve that spot on the Gray Wraith. Call me a cheat all you want. I’ve proven myself worthy at Vikingrune Academy. Can the same be said about you, brother?”

Damon stood, also leaning forward, until our faces were mere inches apart. “I’ve not been idle while you’ve been gone, sister. Why don’t we see who is worthy and who is not?”

My brow furrowed. He can’t be . . . “Name it,” I spat through gritted teeth. “Name it for all to hear and see.”

He stood straight, shoulders lifted proudly. “I challenge you to holmgang , Ravinica.”

Holmgang. A duel. Single-combat used by our Scandinavian forebears to settle disputes. In the past, holmgangs had been to the death. Over time, it became more symbolic and less deadly.

Here? Well . . . I was debating letting it revert to those older ritualistic ways.

“I accept,” I growled in his face.