Chapter 5 | Ravinica

Chapter 5

Ravinica

"TELL ME EVERYTHING ," I implored my brother as we sat across from each other at the campfire outside our longhouse.

Most the villagers had returned to their homes to put their kids to bed, the festivities finished. A few lingered nearby, hoping to hear Eirik's tales. Tomorrow would be a larger feast to celebrate the return of our Vikingrune cadet.

Ma stayed at the fire, as did Hallan and Damon. The brothers gave stiff nods and embraces. Same with Eirik and his father.

It had always been that way with this family, the whole lot of them unable to express their feelings. I was the same way, honestly, because I'd been raised in their image.

"I'll tell you what I can, sis," Eirik said while ravenously slurping down his second bowl of chowder.

Ma was ready at his side with a third, should he want it.

"Is it true the Wraith didn't come to Selby's shores last year because no one here had been worthy of attending the academy?" I asked.

His shoulders rose to his ears. "That's above my pay grade, Vini. Just rumors, I think."

I nodded along, leaning forward on my overturned log so I could get a better look at him through the fire.

He sported two scars that weren't there two years ago, back when he'd been a fresh-faced youth. One through his right brow, another near the left base of his jawline.

"Have you made friends, son?" Ma asked, in the most motherly way imaginable.

"Of course, Ma."

Lindi patted his back. "You never did want for allies."

"Or enemies," I pointed out.

Eirik chuckled. The golden child. Must be nice.

I didn't want to ruin his grand return with my belly-aching, so I kept quiet for a bit. He regaled us with tales of his time at Vikingrune Academy, but kept everything vague and lighthearted.

Ma had told me it was policy of Vikingrune not to speak about the academy to laypeople. It kept the intrigue and mystery of the school palpable, while also helping to maintain its secrets and strategies.

I went to bed that night thrumming with excitement. Hardly able to sleep, I tossed and turned for hours. It's my time. I'll finally be able to leave this place. Row for our lives, row for our prize . . . row for our lives, row for our prize . . .

My eyes opened to a crack of sunlight coming in through the single longhouse window. Everyone slept in the same large room, which gave us no privacy—another holdover of the Old Way. Dorms were another thing I was looking forward to.

I noticed no one was in the house but me, and could hear movement and voices outside. It was late morning. I shot up from my small bed, thinking, Shit, I've overslept!

I grabbed some bread and cheese on the way out of the empty house, squinting against the morning sun with a hand shielding my forehead as I went outside.

People gathered around the village square, where I'd dueled Damon two nights before. Wheelbarrows were dropped unceremoniously in the middle of the street. Laborers dusted their hands off; shopkeepers closed their doors, shuttering their windows for a couple hours.

The announcement was coming.

Heart racing, I jolted toward the crowd, not caring that I still wore the same shirt and pants from yesterday.

A small wooden stage had been raised in the center of town. "Stage" was a reach, since it was little more than some wooden pallets stacked on top of each other.

Eirik stood on top of the pallets, six feet over everyone. His eyes searched the crowd, yet didn't land on me. Unlike last night when the entire village had shown up on the shores of Selby to watch the parting of the mists, fewer villagers arrived for the announcement. Still, there were dozens of people in the crowd.

I shouldered my way through, trying to make it to the front. No one wanted to let me through once they saw who it was. I earned sneers and some shoulder-checks, which only fueled my frustration.

I resigned myself to stand near the back, since I'd been late. They'll have to let me through once the announcement is complete. Bastards.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I scanned the audience, situated in a half-circle around the stage and Eirik. I spotted Damon on one end with his sycophants, and my mom and stepfather a little ways away. Anna was near them with her family, holding her palms together as if in prayer.

Why does she look more nervous than I feel? Silly girl. I smiled, shaking my head.

Eirik reached under the leather hide of his chest and pulled out a piece of folded paper. He cleared his throat. "I know, I know, it's the moment you've all been waiting for."

A smattering of chuckles rose from the group. The people seemed surlier this morning than they had last night, when awe had stricken all of us. Too much ale for many of them, undoubtedly.

"I'll make this quick. I've never been much for fanfare, and I know you all want to get to the feast."

People nodded. I gritted my teeth, my nerves fraying. I had no one around me for support—Ma was through a thicket of people, Anna was elsewhere. I hadn't even seen Korvan yet.

"After much deliberation," Eirik said, reading from the paper in front of him, "Vikingrune Academy has named its chosen initiate delegate from Selby Village."

Some whoops of excitement filled the air, everyone proud to hear of our little hamlet named in the same sentence as the magical academy.

Eirik's brow tightened, his face taking on a serious expression. He didn't move his gaze from the paper. "This year's initiate," he said, "is someone you all know well, and who I know well." He let out a tiny smile.

My heart beat against my ribs. Sweat lined my brow. Just get on with it, brother!

He folded the paper, tucking it away, then looked out to the crowd. His eyes finally found mine . . . and his piercing gaze stabbed my heart.

"It's Damon Halldan."

I was shocked still for what seemed like hours. Heels frozen to the ground. Heart lodged firmly at the soles of my bare feet. Vaguely, I could hear hollering and cheering coming from the audience.

The throng of villagers shifted away from me, crowding around my younger half-brother to swaddle him in embraces, cheers, congratulations, and well-wishes.

As the crowd dispersed, leaving me standing there, I felt more alone than I ever had.

No. It wasn't loneliness that broke my heart.

It was betrayal. Unfairness. Hate.

I lifted my gaze and saw Anna across the way, desperately looking for me with tears in her eyes.

Ma came up to me, her face sunken. "Honey. I'm so sorry."

Hallan, conversely, was cheering loudest of all, pumping his fists into the sky next to his victorious son. To his credit, Damon looked more surprised than anyone, eyes still wide after the announcement.

That surprise quickly shifted to smugness, and he lifted his chin and started taking the well-wishers in hand, thanking them all. He basked in his glory.

"Ravi, did you hear me?" Ma asked.

I blinked at her, fighting back tears. Gently, I shook my head. Still too stunned to speak. All my hard work. All my victories and failures . . . for nothing.

She pulled me close. "You will get there, daughter."

When? I asked myself. I was already on the wrong end of acceptance being twenty-two. Now I had to stay here for at least another year, to toil in hate from my kinfolk and other villagers? To try and do it all over again?

"If not this year, then when ?" I croaked out, sniffling. I wouldn't let the tears fall. I didn't want to seem ungrateful or like a sore loser. I didn't want pity. I didn't want to feel anything—especially not this overbearing sense of failure and defeat that rotted me to my bones. "No, Ma," I continued, burying my face in her shoulder. "I don't think I will. This was it."

She pulled me to arm's length, her face stern like a thunderstorm. "You can't give up, Ravinica," she hissed. "Don't wallow."

I nodded glumly, not really hearing her.

For the next hour, Damon made his rounds. He was literally put on the shoulders of his friends and paraded around town like he'd won the lottery and was about to make everyone in Selby very, very rich.

My younger brother did not take his victory gracefully. He was haughty as ever after the initial shock of his underdog victory wore off.

I had been so confident. Stronger than ever. The elders had even been impressed by my growth and capabilities, despite many of them being chagrined that a bog-blood was proving them wrong.

And now this.

I'd always known that, despite my qualifications, I had a few things working against me. First, of course, my blood and namesake. It had tainted me. Secondly, I had been worried about my inherent physical limitations, being a woman instead of a man. But plenty of women attend Vikingrune. Gods above, even my mother went.

Plus, I had beaten all the boys and men.

Now I was thinking it was the third thing that damned me the most: The fact my inherent magic had not come to fruition. My powers had not unveiled themselves, despite my "advanced" age for an initiate.

Damon had shown me as much the other night when he put his hands in the flame and drew on the fire to light his fingertips, after I'd defeated him in combat. He showed me he could still do something I couldn't, and rubbed it in my face.

It must have been that , I thought as the festivities began in earnest following Damon's crowning. The superiors at Vikingrune must place more importance on magical ability than physical ability, which screwed me in the end. They didn't want to take a chance on me.

I sat on the stoop of my longhouse all afternoon, watching the celebration pass me by. Families brought out roasted hogs, special fish they had brazed and cooked for this occasion, and casks of ale and whiskey to drink the day away.

Damon partook in more drink than he should have, I noticed. He was wobbling around like the village idiot within hours. Bringing shame to our family with his antics and goading.

The people appeared to love him for it, or at least put up with it since he was the man of the hour. He had a few more skirts chasing him around than usual, now that the girls saw him as some great champion of the people.

I scoffed and hung my head, doing the exact thing my mother told me not to do: wallow in defeat.

Anna arrived after a time in a flurry of energy and sadness. It hurt to see her face smudged with tears, her eyes red-rimmed. She brought me in a hug before saying anything. "My mother and father told me not to associate with you anymore, now that you aren't the initiate."

"I don't blame them," I mumbled into her neck.

She pulled me away, scowling. "Fuck them. You're my best friend in this gods-forsaken village, and nothing will change that." Then her face softened. "Oh, Vini, I'm so damn sorry. This is fucked up." She hugged me again.

The dead feeling inside me sputtered with life.

My brow furrowed, unsure what I was feeling.

I gazed over Anna's shoulder, to the loud, boisterous crowd in the village square. Musicians played their stringed instruments, beat on drums, and Damon was dancing in the middle like an arrhythmic heartbeat.

An idea came to mind. I wasn't sure if it was from Anna's sorrowful apology to me, or what. I just knew I couldn't fight it off.

Slowly, I put my hands on Anna's shoulders. I put her to arm's length, cupping her right cheek. "Anna. Thank you for always being kind to me, when no one else is. I don't know what I did to deserve your friendship, but . . . thank you."

With that, I leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

Anna's eyes bulged. She blinked, her pale face blushing with color. "Vini? W-What's this all about? You know I'll tell it to you straight—that sounded like a damned farewell . A suicide letter. Please tell me you aren't planning to do something stupid."

I lurched back, face twisting. "Suicide? What? No! No, Anna. It might be stupid, but it's—I—it's not—"

"I've just never seen you express that kind of emotion before!" She flailed her arms around, clearly flustered. Then, leaning in conspiratorially, her eyes narrowed. "If not that, then what are you doing?"

I recalled my mother's words.

Firming my lips, I said, "I'm not giving up."