Chapter 20 | Grim

Chapter 20

Grim

I COULDN’T STAY WITH Ravinica all the time. But whenever I had the chance—after her classes ended, when I wasn’t on field duty, and when I wasn’t sleeping—I was by her side.

Sven had been relinquished of his Huscarl-in-training work after putting four Lanfen siblings in the hospital and leaving his dragon-badge on the ground of his own family den with a note threatening their safety.

Since then, he’d been slinking around campus like a pariah.

Out of all Ravinica’s mates, I understood Sven the best. It was odd, given he had been my rival before my little sneak brought us together.

Arne was tricky and cunning, and I’d never felt I could trust him completely. Magnus was mysterious and vague, and his emotionless tendencies unnerved me. Corym I didn’t know well enough, and I suspected none of us humans did.

But Sven Torfen? He was a man who made his intentions clear. Like me. He was brash and arrogant. I knew how he operated. In a way, I respected his straightforwardness.

As a child, my biological family had betrayed me, literally sending me out to the wolves in the wilderness, with no hope of surviving or returning. I had beaten the odds through sheer grit and determination to stay alive and prove myself.

My foster fathers had found me, taken me in like a miracle child they couldn’t have on their own. For a few short years, there was bliss in my life, as we lived in the forest in a little cottage, away from civilization and prying eyes. Kerr and Koll taught me the meaning of family—a true family—and that it didn’t need to be dictated by blood.

Ravinica had only driven home that point further. I’d found my new family in the most unexpected of circumstances. Rival, spy, enigma, elf. The four men I now called brothers.

Of course, the bliss with Kerr and Koll could not last. My biological family couldn’t stand to see me succeed. They came with their pitchforks and fire, with their soldiers, and burned us out of house and home.

When my fathers were murdered in front of me, it sparked the inner rage, triggering something inside me I’d fight for the rest of my life to stuff down. And, in that rage, I killed the people who gave birth to me.

Comparing my painful past with Sven’s current situation, I found the similarities easily enough. While Sven’s circumstance triggered my trauma all over again, I felt I had a duty to try and guide him through the emotional turmoil he’d never admit to feeling, because I had been through a similar experience before.

Betrayal was the worst feeling I’d ever known. It cut much deeper than any blade. It awoke something visceral and primal inside you. I wondered if I couldn’t stray Sven off this path of retribution and vengeance, before it was too late. Before he ended up like me. Unless it already is too late for the temperamental shifter.

During one of Ravinica’s classes, when I found myself alone with my thoughts, I strolled over to the nearest mess hall and found him there, sitting alone and eating.

My heart hurt for the dark-haired man, hunched over his bread and meat, clawing into his food like it was going to attack him. Bears are meant to be solitary. Wolves are not. A wolf without a pack is no wolf at all.

I passed other lounging cadets in the hall, lumbering my way toward him. My size brought more than a few stares and awkward glances from my peers, and I ignored them.

I was staring at Sven’s hunched back, coming at him from behind, yet I knew with his senses and his current situation he would feel me coming.

Sure enough, at the last second, he spun on his bench with an eating knife gripped between his fingers, ready to lodge it into my throat.

I stepped back, my large hand whipping out and clutching his wrist to stop him before he could attack me. “At ease, wolf,” I grunted, pushing his hand and knife away.

He grunted at me, eyes narrowing suspiciously, and sat to continue eating. As I moved to sit across from him, he said, “What do you want, bear? I’m busy.”

My hands clasped together on the tabletop. “This self-imposed misery is not like you, Sven.”

He didn’t look up, chomping away violently at his food. It made me wince.

When no answer was forthcoming, I continued. “Ravinica wouldn’t like to see—”

“This isn’t about Ravinica.” The man flared his nostrils, snarling up at me.

I slipped a small smile out. “You know, for how handsome of a man you could be, this enraged, victimized expression you’ve been wearing is quite unattractive.”

If I couldn’t play to his logic, maybe I could play to his hubris.

His jaw went slack, chewing slower. “Are you seriously telling me I would be prettier if I smiled more ?”

I chuckled. “I’m not hitting on you, mate, I promise. I’m simply saying—”

“I know what you’re saying. I also know you have no room to condescend or criticize me. You may act the lovable teddy bear, but we both know you’re one mistake away from snapping like a wildfire.”

My smile vanished. Leave it to Sven to steal any breath out of a room. He always had to be such an asshole.

“Your dramatics are tiring, wolf.”

“Fuck you, Grim. I didn’t ask you to sit here. In fact, I’d prefer if you left me alone.”

I sighed, wondering if Sven realized how much he sounded like the old me. The me that existed before Ravinica brightened my world. Is he truly going to let his family spat get in the way of the love he shares with that amazing woman?

He was squandering his chances. His aura of resentment would only lead to a mutual feeling from those around him—those who tried to call him a friend.

I was no therapist, but I reckoned Sven Torfen could have benefited from the use of one more than any of us.

“I know what you’re feeling,” I said lowly, leaning forward, trying to take on his gloomy, heavy air and give his situation the gravity it deserved. “I’ve been abandoned by kin as well, in case you’ve forgotten. I’ve done things I’m not proud of, and despite it all, and how unexpected it is, I don’t want to see the same thing happen to my . . . friend.”

Despite my heartfelt words, he kept his head bowed, finishing his meal with a scoff. “We’re not friends, Kollbjorn.”

A cloud of anger flew over me, so sudden I had to catch my breath before I said or did something regrettable. I tried again, determined not to give up on him. “Losing yourself to rage feels like the only answer. It feels like it will complete you and make everything better—justify your awful actions. I’m telling you it won’t. It will only leave you emptier.”

His head shot up, a twitch to his upper lip. “Why are you talking so much? I like you more when you shut the fuck up.”

The man’s jabs had little effect on me. Nothing Sven could say would push me to the brink of my rage or bring out the berserk spirit inside me, as much as he was trying to hurt me. When would he understand that?

Nonetheless, it was clear he was not ready. The hurt was too recent. The betrayal too bright. Only time, I feared, would callous his heart from this situation.

I simply worried he’d be too lost by then. It was best to fix a dog’s bad habits before they became engrained and permanent.

And that was what made me realize my plan here was folly. I can’t fix this man. Wolf shifter he might be, he’s no dog to train. The only person I can think who might get through to him, if he’s willing to have an honest conversation, is Ravinica.

It was obvious he didn’t want to have an honest conversation with me . I had to respect that. I hadn’t asked his permission to bring up these feelings, and I could tell he resented that and wasn’t taking kindly to my tactics.

I drummed my fingers on the table with a heavy sigh, resigning myself to defeat.

“Sven Torfen.” The voice rang out at the entrance of the mess hall.

Every face in the hall whipped over to the sight of Eirik Halldan standing in the archway, eyebrows arched angrily. His hand was on the hilt of the sword at his hip.

Sven sneered, his handsome face growing uglier, more disgusted. “Oh, thank the gods. Something interesting. ” He stood up, plate clattering. “What’s the get, Halldan?”

At one point, Sven and Eirik had been tenuous allies. They had teamed up for certain trials during their initiate year. They understood each other.

That was before Ravinica came here. Clearly, a lot had changed since then, from our first term to our third term.

Around Eirik, his three comrades—Tyrus, Gryphon, Ayla—swarmed in to surround him. They had their hands near their weapons, stern looks on their faces.

Cadets around the mess hall were beginning to clear out, noticing the bad blood they sat between. It was like an old Western, the tavern emptying out as the opposing cowboy gangs met up for a shootout. All we needed was some stray tumbleweed rolling between us.

“My family put you up to this, Eirik?” Sven called out, just as the last handful of students were leaving the room to let this impending brawl play out.

Eirik tilted his head. “I don’t give a shit about the Torfens, Sven. I never have. I do give a shit about my brother. And you laid hands on him.”

Sven lifted a finger, wagging it. “Technically, I laid hand on his girlfriend.”

Eirik snorted, disgusted. “Are you proud of that, shifter? Wounding a woman—”

“Gertrude Lanfen is an initiate of Vikingrune Academy. She doesn’t need you white-knighting for her, Drengr . If she didn’t want the smoke, she should have never stepped foot into the furnace.”

Eirik spat, “You fucking mongrel.”

Sven played up his villainy. “If she can’t dodge a baton thrown at her, I worry for the time she has to dodge a spear thrust at her.”

At that, Eirik’s eyes widened. “You’d threaten her further , Torfen? You’re despicable. No wonder your kinsfolk betrayed you.”

The lighthearted viciousness left Sven’s body in an instant, replaced with tension and flexed muscles.

I stood from the table, standing behind him.

Out the corner of his mouth, Sven said, “You want to make yourself useful, bear? Then stop psychoanalyzing me and fight with me.”

I didn’t want to fight. It went against everything I had just been saying—that violence would only beget more of it, and it would drag Sven further down into the abyss of revenge and animosity.

Luckily for him, I didn’t much like Eirik Halldan, either. Just like my original family, his group had abandoned me and pushed me aside after I accidentally killed Anders Rennarfen during our initiate year.

I knew these four intimately. I also knew how well they fought, and that Sven didn’t stand a chance four against one.

He needed a bear to help even the odds a bit.

“Gladly,” I grunted.

Sven pulled a sword from behind him, yelling out, “So, you fight your little brother’s battles for him now? How quaint. Are you going to stand there and crow all day, Eirik, or are you going to do something?”

As one, Eirik and his three comrades drew their weapons.

I cracked my knuckles, stepping up beside Sven Torfen, our standoff complete. There were at least four wide tables separating us. This was not a grand place for a duel, yet the duelers rarely set the parameters in real-life brawls.

My eyes scanned left to right, planning my strategy and anticipating their moves. In the calm moments before the storm of battle, Eirik and his ilk were doing the same.

“Stand down, you fucking children,” called a new voice.

The air left Eirik’s body, deflating him, as he spun around on a soft gasp.

“Drengr, I’m disappointed in you.”

My brow furrowed. Glancing at Sven, both of us confused, we recognized the voice.

Kelvar the Whisperer pushed through the barricade of Eirik, Tyrus, Gryphon, and Ayla, black cloak swishing near the floor.

To my utter surprise, Arne Gornhodr followed him.

Does the Whisperer have a new initiate?

“What’s going on, Whisperer?” Sven demanded. “I have a right to defend my—”

“Tell it to someone who gives a shit,” Kelvar interjected, his face a mask of gaunt fury. With his half-lidded eyes, he looked utterly indifferent. “Your familial usurpation will have to wait.”

With that, Kelvar pointed at Sven, and then at me. “You two are coming with me.”

I opened my mouth to question the Hersir’s authority, but knew it wasn’t in my best interest.

After Kelvar gave a quick up-and-down look of disappointment to Eirik—as if wondering how the promising Drengr had fallen so far, relegating himself to backroom brawls—he spun on his heels and left the mess hall, taking all the vitriol and air with him.