Chapter 8 | Ravinica

Chapter 8

Ravinica

FOR ALL THE KIND WORDS and pretty excuses Eirik made about allowing me on his ship— wanting me at the academy over Damon—it wasn't my elder brother who had come to my aid.

It was this stranger, Arne Gornhodr. A cunning man, no doubt. I had been minding my own business, lost in the gentle rhythms of the waves lapping against the hull of the ship. A stranger berated me, trying to make a name for himself by picking on someone he thought was the weakest link on the boat.

I would have loved to skewer him with my spear, to give him a wake-up call.

Arne had prevented me from doing that. By drawing the attention away from me with a few well-placed barbs, then freezing that man's feet to the damn floorboards, he stopped the bloodshed before it began.

Probably saved my spot at the academy, given all my hotheadedness and rebelliousness. That's something I'll need to work on at the academy, for sure.

Arne was right, though I didn't want to admit it to his face. All my life, I had made enemies easily, while it had been harder to find friends. I was hesitant to trust. Arne had done something I couldn't remember anyone ever doing: He came to my assistance out of a sense of justice. Arne saw someone on the verge of attacking me, and reacted. Not because or despite my bloodname, not because I was a woman, but because it was wrong .

No one had ever caped for me like that.

Then again, I couldn't be sure of the man's motives. Maybe I was mistaken, and he wasn't altruistic at all. He had something of a mischievous bent to his demeanor.

The man was undeniably handsome, in a pretty way. I wasn't used to men being pretty . Not in my village. Much different than the strapping, physically intimidating men I had grown up around . Men of Norse and Viking blood typically grew into large, meaty guys.

I didn't hate it.

Arne had a sharp face of fine features. A dashing smile that held secrets. Sparkling blue eyes behind a mop of yellow hair that looked like a wheatfield blowing on a summer day. He wasn't small or frail, yet his strength came from his words rather than his wiry build.

At first blush, the man was not imposing. Seeing him dance his fingers around in the air, quickly freeze a larger man in front of him, and talk to him about nonchalantly breaking his bones through his skin? This is a man I could come to appreciate.

As Arne went back to his rowing bench, I watched him. He had a sort of feminine sashay to the way he walked—a saunter that told me he was supremely confident, bordering on arrogant. Most men I'd known were arrogant, so that didn't come as a surprise.

Biting my lower lip and tossing my pride aside, I approached him once he'd sat down and picked up his rowing oar. "I'm sorry if I was a bitch after you helped me," I said.

He stared at the ground, grunting while his arms flexed and veins popped in his biceps as he began to row. "You weren't a bitch, lass. You were on edge. For good reason."

I was unable to take my eyes off the way his corded muscles flexed while he rowed. He was more fit than I'd originally given him credit for. "I don't have any friends here, or at the academy."

His sharp chin nudged toward the prow. "You have your brother."

"Half-brother. He's not the one who came to my aid. You are."

"He was far away."

Why is this man resisting taking my apology, arguing with what I say? "Eirik did not—"

"Eirik Halldan is a Drengr, a warrior, and has earned his place captaining this ship," Arne spat, lifting his head. "He's not going to show you preferential treatment. He's doing you a favor that way. Trust me."

I was startled at his outburst, yet I agreed with it. "Good," I said simply. "I don't want special treatment. I want to pave my own way. Which means making friends."

"You aren't supposed to have friends this early on. Look at Rolf. He's as friendless as they come." Arne tossed his chin back over his shoulder, at the large, sullen-looking man behind him on a bench.

"Don't be a dick," Rolf grunted. "That's not nice."

"It's true," Arne replied. "I'm not nice, Rolf. I'm honest."

Rolf shook his head, muttering to himself, and continued to row.

I raised a brow, watching them converse. Arne could say whatever he wanted about friendship, but I knew comrades when I saw them. These two men knew each other more than they were letting on.

"How do you know how to do all that Shaping and rune stuff as an initiate?" I asked Arne.

"I'm not an initiate. I'm a second-year cadet. Rolf is my ward; the initiate chosen from my village this year. I am to him what Eirik is to you. Except we're not related."

I smiled. "Ah, so you do know each other."

"Of course we do," Arne drawled. He was starting to sweat while rowing, so he put the oar down in his lap to stare up at me. "I wouldn't call someone I don't know friendless. That's a douchey thing to say. I'm not like Ulf Torfen over there."

I followed his to the man who had tried to accost me. He was nursing his humiliation over portside, with a few other boys he talked to.

Ulf reminded me of Damon. He reminded me of many men from my village, like Ivan, those kids who threw rocks, my stepfather. The list went on.

"He'll be planning his retribution," Arne said, "so watch out for him and his clan. The Torfen pack."

"Right," I said. "You call them ‘pack.' With a name ending in ‘fen,' which reminds me of old Fenrir wolf, I'm assuming Ulf is a wolf shifter."

"Correct. They're thick as thieves, the Torfens. Led by their patriarch Salos Torfen. Big donor at the academy. It's why they're such a big deal, and why you need to watch your six from here on out."

My brow jumped up my forehead, deep lines forming. "Donor?"

"What?" Arne scoffed, smirking. "Did you think the school was apolitical? You'll need to toss aside your naivety if you plan on making it at our cutthroat academy, girl."

"I'd prefer if you called me Ravinica rather than ‘girl' or ‘lass,' Arne Gornhodr."

"How about my little fox?" he grunted. "You're as argumentative and smart as one."

I tilted my head. A strange sense of excitement hummed through my body when he gave me the title, even if it was a backhanded compliment. I'd never had someone call me anything other than the various alterations of my name, or bog-blood, swamp-bred, things of that nature. Not very flattering.

Pushing down the thrilling sensation, I gave Arne a small smile. "How about ‘friend'?"

He pouted, tilting his head left to right as if thinking it over. "Nah. I already offered you that once."

I stifled a gasp, taken aback. My eyes flashed wide, which only made his smile grow. He stood from his bench, our heights equal.

"Peace, Ravinica," he said while sticking his hand out for me to shake. "I'm only kidding. What made you change your mind so quickly?"

I shrugged, and this time I took his hand and shook it, as if making a business deal. "I figure I'll need allies to make it at Vikingrune, and you seem like a good one."

"Opportunistic. Survivalist. I like it. Even though I told you already not to make friends this early."

He continued to shake my hand for a moment too long. Instead of it becoming awkward, I was more drawn to him, to his mirthful blue eyes. The man had an impish personality, and I enjoyed having someone I could spar words with. Gods knew I'd been lacking that at Selby.

He surprised me by putting a hand to the small of my back, and my body stiffened from his touch. He was smooth with it, despite throwing me off, and I leaned into his soft touch.

Then I realized he wasn't copping a feel, and I felt silly, my cheeks flushing. Rather, he pointed out to the misty sea, past the railing of the ship, turning my body to face that direction with him.

"Speaking of the academy," he said with a smirk, "go starboard and take in the sights, little fox."

I watched from the railing with my heart in my throat, eyes bulging against the whipping wind.

"But we've only been traveling for a few hours!" I called over the din of fast wind. "We should be in the middle of the ocean, at best." Somehow, we seemed to be going faster now, despite more rowers stuffing their paddles away.

Arne stood next to me, close. It was comforting having someone near me who had experienced this before. "That's why the Wraith is called a ghost ship," he said. "We stopped traveling atop the water long ago."

I glanced over at him, confused—but could only focus on him for a moment before everything changed in front of us.

One second, we were barreling through a corridor of dark mist and fog. The next, we burst free from the stuffy confines and the longship lurched onto crystal water. The fog stopped on a great wall of gray behind us, as if the mist had a specific point at which it ended.

A blue morning greeted us overhead. Minutes before, the moon had been in the sky.

A wave of dizziness washed over me as I took everything in, dazed and disoriented. Even Arne appeared slightly disheveled at the sudden change of barometric pressure and the speed with which the longship sailed.

I felt like I wasn't in Midgard anymore. It was a creeping feeling, one that nagged at me.

Beneath the yawning blue sky sat a landmass stretching from end to end as far as I could see left and right. It grew larger on the horizon as we approached at a breakneck speed. Wind pushed against the large square sail of the Gray Wraith , propelling us toward a peninsula.

I could make out the winding rivers and fjords cut into glistening glaciers and coves. The land sloped up behind the shore, with a great forest and green canopies. The island appeared covered in nature, devoid of human touch. I didn't see large metal buildings or skyscrapers I'd heard so much about in my village, which supposedly topped the sky in so many cities across the world.

This place looked uninhabited and ancient.

Thrilling. Promising.

Trepidation inside me turned into fierce anticipation and excitement. I couldn't fight off the wide grin splitting my face, even though it hurt to do so. Arne had made no mention of the bruise or split lip marring my features.

I wanted to pinch myself to see if I was dreaming. Maybe Arne could smack me upside the head to do the same, to wipe the shit-eating grin off my face.

I'm here , I thought. I've made it at long last.

From my side, Arne spoke in little more than a whisper. I could hear him clearly above the cacophony of wind rushing by.

"Welcome to the Isle, little fox."