Chapter 3 | Ravinica

Chapter 3

Ravinica

MY NAME HAD BEEN A point of contention in my life as long as I'd been alive. It was the one thing I could never control—the most damning thing against me.

My family name. My heritage. The very thing I'd fought to reclaim last night, and would continue to fight for in the coming years. As long as I was ridiculed and treated like a lesser being, I would wage war.

Naming conventions were convoluted in this corner of the world. Girls and boys were typically named after their fathers, because that was the line through which our warrior blood supposedly flowed.

A "dan" suffix denoted a son, whereas "deen" was a daughter.

Runeshapers had different names attached to them by the academy once their inherent magic came to light. I didn't need to worry about that because my magic was being smothered by some unseen force. I was certain of it.

I was named after my mother—already a tally against me, because it was considered a weaker lineage than being named after my father.

But how could I be named after my father when I didn't know who he was? When I'd never met him?

As a bastard daughter, the "myrr" replaced "deen" and followed me like a dark cloud—an infestation of my being, no matter how hard I fought against it.

I had proven myself as a stalwart defender of the Old Way. The strongest at Selby Village. Entirely capable of becoming an initiate at Vikingrune Academy.

To many, it didn't matter. I was tarnished.

To make matters worse, the true reason I was treated as inferior to my peers, stemmed from my slightly tapered ears.

I was a bog-blood. Half-bred. Born from elven stock, which was the worst slight of all, because elves were the enemies of man. Had been for generations. Didn't matter if they were light Ljosalfar or dark Dokkalfar elves. We hated them all equally. There was precedent for that hate, too.

As I trained with Korvan that afternoon, I stabbed my spear at the moving targets and imagined them as a combination of the little whelps who'd thrown rocks at me, but with the pointy ears of my people's enemies.

I growled and bared my teeth in a snarl, throwing my spear down once I was finished so I could pick up a sword and hack at the targets with a different form.

Korvan watched from the side of the wooded glade, raking his hand through his beard. "You attack the targets as if they're going to attack back, girl."

"Isn't that the point?" I snarled, swinging again, missing the mark, and cutting into the branch that held the target.

Korvan had utilized his green elemental powers to make the spindly tree limbs duck, bob, and weave around my attacks. In truth, they could strike back if he let them. This was supposed to be a training session focused on form, however, which I was decidedly lacking when I sliced into the branch, snapped it, and sent the target tumbling to the ground.

I heaved when I stood straight, lowering my sword. More shame filled me for losing myself to anger.

"You're sloppy," he said, pointing out the obvious. "What is going on with you?"

I shook my head. Didn't want to talk about it.

He pushed off a tree and walked toward me. "Your footwork is tighter than Damon's. You're breathing deep because you're out of breath. Your arms move like they aren't attached to your body."

"These are all things I know, Swordbaron."

"Why?" He circled me, taking note of my stance, and kicked lightly to broaden my legs out into a firmer, steadier foundation. "You should be elated at your victory from last night. Yet you seem angrier than you did before it even started."

With my free hand, I rubbed the back of my neck, embarrassed. How can I let little whelps like that anger me so badly?

"You're no berserker, Ravinica. Which is why you're one of Selby's best. Don't lose yourself to fury, or whatever it is marring your skills."

I faced my tutor and gave him a short bow. "Yes, Swordbaron. My apologies."

Korvan frowned, putting his hands on his hips. "Don't apologize to me." He nodded to the ground. "Apologize to the poor branch you just cut in half." When I said nothing, he gave me a small smile beneath his beard. "Come back when you have a better head on your shoulders, girl. You're dismissed."

I bowed again. "Yes, Swordbaron."

With that, I turned to leave the training glade. When I made it to the ring of trees surrounding the meadow, Korvan called out: "Ravinica."

I looked over my shoulder.

"Tonight will be a spectacle. Don't lose sight of what you've trained so hard to accomplish. Not when you're this close to realizing your dreams. Yes?"

I bowed a third and final time, and gave him a tiny, crooked smile. "Yes, Swordbaron."

I left the meadow feeling sadder and more weighed-down by the burden of my future. If Korvan knew I had an ulterior motive for attending the prestigious Vikingrune Academy—to reclaim my family honor and punish those who brought shame upon our name—he'd be heartbroken.

The last thing I wanted to do was disappoint someone who actually cared about me.

The sun began to set behind the ocean when I arrived back at Selby, less than a mile from the training glade. Dots of campfires sprouted up throughout the village, people beginning to cook dinner in the open air.

My people were an outside people. Yes, we had hearths and pits to cook our meals inside our hovels, but during the mild summer months we opted to cook outdoors. It was better for community-building, the elders said, and who didn't enjoy the various spices and scents of different meats and herbs cooking as you walked down the road?

I kept my eyes on swivel when I entered the village this time, and saw him before he saw me.

Inwardly, I groaned.

Ivan pushed off the wall of a cabin and approached me with a smile on his face. The haughty young man had become a nuisance ever since I'd let him inside me. I still regretted doing that.

"Ravinica," he said with a small nod, joining my side as I walked down the main road toward my longhouse.

"Ivan," I answered back, instinctively gripping the spear in my hand a bit tighter.

He walked alongside me just like Anna had earlier, though the vibe was much different. His tone was dour and frustrating, while Anna's was carefree and humorous. He was taller than me, which automatically put me on edge. Especially given our history.

"You know," he began, "that wouldn't have happened earlier today if you were with me."

I clamped my jaw, freezing before continuing to walk while staring forward, not bothering to look at him. "You were there when those kids threw rocks at me? Watching?" I asked out the corner of my mouth. "And you did nothing?"

He shrugged easily. "Those boys had every right to hurt you. You're unprotected. If you were my property, they'd never dare."

The unmitigated gall of this man made my blood boil. It took everything inside me not to shove my spearhead into his soft belly and out the other side.

The Old Way certainly had its faults.

I stopped short again, facing him in the middle of the road as others streamed by. My eyes narrowed, searching his jittery orbs. "I'll never be your property, Ivan. What we did was a mistake. You are a mistake."

With that, I continued on, turning away from him.

He followed, keeping a short distance behind me.

Over my shoulder, I said, "Don't follow or pester me any longer, man-boy. Unless you want to feel what Damon felt last night." I raised my spear to give him a clue.

He stopped walking and laughed after me. "You can't fight your way out of every problem, Ravinica!"

"Watch me."

Inside my longhouse, I ate from a bowl of fish chowder. Fish was common here in Selby, because the sea was so close. My mother had a knack for flavoring the salmon, trout, and cod in different ways every time, so we didn't get too bored of it.

I sat on the ground with a small table between my family. Across from me sat Damon, legs crossed, eyes downcast to avoid looking at me. To my right was Ma, and to my left sat my stepfather, Hallan.

My stepfather slurped his bowl and set it down, then glanced at me. "Your spirit is heavy, daughter. What ails you? Is it your bog-blood coming to life? Your moon cycle?"

I bit back a sharp response. I'd had enough debasing words thrown at me for one day. This was how my life went, and I knew I needed to get a thicker skin. Korvan was right. "No, stepfather," I replied simply.

He flared his nostrils. "You'll refer to me as Da or nothing in this house."

"Very well, Nothing," I answered back snidely, unable to hold back my bite a second time. Leave it to him to always find fault in whatever I—

Thwack!

Needles shot through my cheek as my head whipped to the side from his sudden slap over the table. My chowder spilled over the side of my bowl, slopping onto the ground.

Ma hissed. Damon chuckled.

"Insolent bitch, as always," Hallan grunted, then flattened a hand over his tunic to compose himself. "You're still under my roof, girl, and I won't be ridiculed or disrespected, no matter how good of a fighter you think you are. Understand?"

I slowly nodded, burying my rage. "Yes . . . Da."

I supposed I deserved his slap, given my snide attitude. I was in a dark mood. It hadn't been his fault I'd opened my big mouth to ply my jest.

My mother didn't see it that way. She stared daggers at her husband. Even though I wasn't Hallan's child, I was her child, and striking me in their home was an affront to her.

Lindi stood from the table, pulling her gown tighter against her round frame. "Come, Ravi," she said. "Let us go to the shore. The mists will part soon."

A rush of excitement ran through me.

It was almost time.

"Good," Hallan muttered. "Since you refuse to wed, perhaps I can finally get the stink of you out from under my home, Ravinica."

I ignored my stepfather's barb and smiled at my mother. It hurt the right side of my face from the red handprint left by Hallan.

Ma walked around the table and I moved to follow her outside.

But not before my stepfather cleared his throat.

We froze and looked back expectantly.

Hallan nodded to the stew splattered on the ground next to where I sat—splattered because he'd slapped me. "You'll clean that before going anywhere, young lady."