Chapter 21 | Ravinica

Chapter 21

Ravinica

ARNE WAS brUISED AND broken. Sven was helping me. Grim had snapped into a berserk state the moment he saw me. Magnus looked weakened, even paler than usual.

It seemed I had returned just in the nick of time for these men. I wasn't selfish enough to equate all their struggles with my disappearance . . . but I knew them well enough now to understand I played a big part in their mental and physical wellbeing.

It was insane to me that I had such control over these burly Vikings. All of them were strong in their own way. Proud and powerful, with abilities that would put a normal human to shame. Masters of combat, the cream of the crop in runeshaping.

And yet, their strength was tethered to my prosperity and health. My safety.

As I tried to ignore the sadness that filled me with every step further away from Corym E'tar in the opposite direction, a thrill of something needy and fiery took root in my belly.

The four men surrounding me, alone with me now and circling me like gargoyles watching over a precious castle, did that to me. They filled me with the kind of desire and heat no man before them had ever accomplished.

At the end of the day, I was happier Corym would be safe with the Lepers than in constant danger at Vikingrune Academy. Gods knew I already had too much to focus on to worry about him—namely, my safety and getting back to the academy unharmed.

I wished I felt relief at returning to Vikingrune Academy. If I belonged nowhere else in this world, it was there. I needed to spread the word, somehow, that the Hersirs and higher-ups had been lying to us. The elves weren't all bad. I wasn't sure how that would play out, or what kind of trouble it would get me in, but it seemed like the good kind.

With every footfall that brought me closer to the windswept hilltop where the academy sat, my muscles grew tenser, my shoulders stiffened.

We had left Isleton immediately after parting ways with the Lepers Who Leapt and Corym in their midst. The five of us avoided villagers as we headed for the eastern mountain, then veered north along its base and gained the rocky crags leading to the underground tunnels.

During our first hour of walking uphill, slogging through the dark caves, it dawned on me this was the first time I'd had all four of these men so close to me, in one room.

It wasn't a joyous or momentous occasion, sadly. Everyone was deathly, eerily quiet, lost in their own respective thoughts. Heads bowed, tired, putting one boot in front of the other.

When I started to feel the impending dread washing over me in our second hour of dark travel, and my body tautened, it was Grim Kollbjorn who put a calming hand on my shoulder. In one swift move, he eased the knot. I gulped in a deep breath, glancing up at him with a small smile.

He smiled back at me with a tiny nod, and for some reason it nearly brought me to tears. I had so badly missed those little gestures—the quiet stoicism of the bear shifter, the kind smiles given only to me, the protectiveness of his presence. I hadn't realized what I had with this mountainous man until he was gone, and then I'd been too wrapped up in simply surviving to give the nuances of our blooming relationship much thought.

Gods, Vini, I thought with a sniffle, wiping my forearm over my nose as I looked away from him back to the ground. When did I become such a snotty sap? The villagers at Selby would eat me alive if they saw how a simple kind gesture from a man buckled my knees now.

Then again, I had been through a lot with this particular man in the short time I'd been at the academy. From our first meeting at orientation—intensely drawn to the loner giant who was a head taller than everyone else—to our nightly strolls through the woods in the center of campus; our tryst out in Delaveer during the full moon a couple months back. The way he protected me against Sven and his Torfen siblings . . . riding him in his bear form like I was some barbaric shield-maiden of legend.

The list went on. Whereas my bond with Magnus had formed over an intellectual likeness—stealing away to study in Mimir Tomes, learning about our histories, celebrating those wins with ravenous heat neither of us could deny—my time with Grim was based on action and few words.

I think I prefer it that way, with him. I hope we can get back to that, so long as we're all safe. I didn't even know what he'd been doing the past month, but I was dying to know.

There was also the small nagging of guilt I felt when I looked up into that chiseled, bearded face. He had just seen me kissing another man in front of everyone. A renegade elf, no less, who was universally hated by our people.

And still, Grim had shown no disrespect, no jealousy, no hate toward me or the elf in question. His tiny smile and head nod showed so much about who he was as a person, and it spoke to his love for me.

With my confidence lifting as I thought about my past victories with these men—two of them in particular—we made it to the end of the tunnels that led to the ladder.

Our necks craned to stare up at the dark grate closed above the ceiling, casting down an outline of faint light. Outside, afternoon was upon us, the sun was out, and it was the middle of the week. Students would be in class, the term winding down as winter waited on the wings with an icy breath.

For what it was worth, the autumn on the Isle had been mild and breathtakingly beautiful. I would know, too, since I'd seen much of the Isle—almost the entire west side leading up to the Selfsky Plains past the Niflbog—during my time away.

"We ready?" Magnus asked in a low voice.

"Ready for whatever pops its head out of that hole, draug," Sven answered.

The bloodrender lifted a brow. "It's going to be our heads popping out of that hole, wolf."

"Then let's not lose them."

With that, Magnus moved to take the lead at the ladder, but Grim barred him with an arm and stepped in front to go first.

I furrowed my brow, noticing the relieved flash of thanks dash across Magnus' pale features. The grate was heavy, and he looked ready to collapse. He wore a Vikingrune tunic he'd stolen from a dead man, but even the tattoos lining every inch of his arms looked faded and wrong.

What's going on with him? Did he exert that much energy bloodrending during the battle?

The ladder creaked and groaned from Grim's heavy weight. He slowly climbed to the top, took a deep breath, and pushed the lid aside.

His head jerked as blaring light beamed down on him, the bear hissing from the suddenness of it. A light was on in Mimir Tomes' storeroom, and after being trapped in near pitch-black darkness the past few hours, we all felt like vampires beneath its glow.

No sword waited to behead Grim as he climbed out of the floor. My heart picked up its rapid rhythm, worried as I picked at my nails and bit my lip.

The wait was agonizing. Eventually Grim motioned down for us. Sven climbed next, then me, then Magnus, and finally Arne.

Within minutes, we were in the familiar storeroom of Mimir Tomes. Alone, with only our thumping hearts making any noise. We helped each other to our feet and wandered through the shelves packed with brooms, buckets, and cleaning supplies.

It was comical how slowly we walked, heads poking around every corner as if we expected a closet ninja to pop out and alert our presence at any second.

At the door, another ragged breath passed between us. We looked to each other like lost children, blinking, and finally nodded.

I did the honors of pushing open the door . . .

And was greeted by a couple passing students meandering down the red-carpeted hall.

I froze in place in the doorway.

The students didn't even glance over. They were busy in conversation. In fact, light conversation filled Mimir Tomes—despite it being the academy library—as initiates and cadets walked up and down the halls, through the nearby rooms, and mostly kept their attention away from us.

I was baffled still. With a slight nudge from Grim, I started walking, my legs feeling boneless and wobbly.

Only two acolytes, in their dark hooded robes, gave us any notice at all. It was nothing more than a quick glance before they shuffled off, curious more than suspicious.

No one recognized me, or at least they didn't say anything as we strolled down the hall toward the exit. Gods above, we might actually make it!

I could see the wide double-doors ahead, open to let in sunlight and students for midday studying.

Smiling, I reached the doors and the breeze—

And a loud voice cleared behind us, freezing our feet to the floor like kids caught staying up too late.

"Magnus Feldraug, how good of you to make your appearance. I'm glad you're not avoiding the Tomes."

The voice was deep and guttural, feminine. We slowly turned to face the round frame of Tomekeeper Dahlia Anfinn, in her black robe and birds-nest hair that looked like it had something living in it.

The Tomekeeper's chins wobbled as she gave us a sickeningly sweet smile that I trusted about as much as my stepfather.

What was that comment about—avoiding Mimir Tomes? Is she subtly saying she knows what we were doing here weeks ago?

I stiffened when her eyes met mine. Eyes so much like her silvermoor daughter's, Astrid Dahlmyrr.

I hadn't thought of Astrid in ages. Now I shuddered while wondering how the girl was going to torment me since I'd returned. At least I'd be able to show her up in Runeshaping Basics, with my magic being alive and all.

I actually relished the thought of putting that bitch in her place and off my back, once and for all.

"Why would I be avoiding the Tomes, ma'am?" Magnus asked flatly.

Her smile only widened. "Oh, I simply thought you might be getting sick of it by now."

More innuendo? Do these two share something I don't know about?

Magnus' body language was guarded and tight. He shook his head firmly. "No, Tomekeeper. I never get sick of knowledge."

Dahlia's body jiggled when she barked a laugh, frightening a passing pair of students and causing them to wheel around her in a wide berth.

"Well, that's good," the Tomekeeper said. "I won't ask what you and your friends are doing out of class and field duties." With a small nod to us, she said, "I'll be seeing you soon for your next appointment, Feldraug."

Appointment? I watched Magnus' inked neck bob. Fear showed itself on his face, only for an instant—I only noticed it because I was staring at him.

Fear was not an emotion I'd ever associated with Magnus Feldraug the bloodrender.

I was more curious than ever when Tomekeeper Dahlia scooted by us and headed down another hall, going to pester some other ill-fated initiates.

"What was that all about?" I asked Magnus.

He passed me with a grunt. "Later, silvermoon."

We left Mimir Tomes. I should have felt relieved to be back safely, with the sun and wind on my face, yet that interaction made me feel off.

What the hell are people not telling me? What am I missing here, and what's been going on since I've been gone?

Clearly, I had a lot to catch up on.

Luckily, I knew just where to go to find out all the latest tea.

The four men escorted me to Nottdeen Quarter in the southeast part of campus near the southern gate. It felt surreal walking down the cobbled roads, through the light dirt paths of the many wooded sections again.

We passed longhouses I recognized, students I was familiar with who were just letting out of class, and all the stark, muted beauty Vikingrune Academy had to offer.

My confidence was lifting. I found myself smiling as I pushed toward Nottdeen. In the background, Sven and Grim argued over who was going to stay and keep watch over me.

I was already moving past them.

I shoved the door of the dormitory open . . .

And there she was. At the front desk, head down, yin-yang hair parted, face buried in a book.

Right where I left her a month ago.

Her head lifted lethargically as I stepped into the main room, to see who had come in. Blinking, she gave me a small nod—her glasses were beside her book—and then dipped her chin again to return to reading.

Her eyes widened a second later. Recognition passed over her face. She scurried to find her glasses, throw them on, and then snapped her head up with her mouth fully open.

"R-Ravinica?!"

I smiled, wetness coming to my eyes for the second time that day. "Hi, Dagny."

She screeched—actually screeched like an unhinged bird—and hurried around the desk to run at me.

My eyes widened when the shorter girl barreled into me and wrapped her arms around my middle, burying her face in my bosom.

I laughed, returning the fierce hug, listening to her weep in my arms. It was a moment I'd never forget—realizing how much someone actually cared about me.

"I . . . I can't believe it," she muttered snottily. Her head lifted to take in my face, and she let out another mewl, cupped my cheek to make sure I was real, and then buried her face in my tits again.

"Whoa there, bestie," I laughed.

She pulled me to arm's length, tears tracking deep grooves in her puffy cheeks. She looked worn and tired as ever. Too many hours losing herself in her books, worrying, no doubt.

Dagny's eyes squinted beneath her cat-eye glasses. "I thought I-I'd never see you again! You've been gone for years !"

"A month, actually. But who's counting?"

I'd never seen Dagny so animated. She was typically the reserved girly, whereas Randi was my bubbly one.

I loved this side of the cat shifter.

She laughed through her tears and took my hand to pull me to her desk. "Gods above, girl, I thought you were dead!" At the desk, she leaned closer, conspiratorially—head bobbing left and right like she thought we were being spied on. "Is it true the elves captured you?"

I nodded. "'Fraid so."

"What were you even doing outside the academy?!"

I pressed my hand down, playing the part. "Shh, lower your voice, Dag. Damn. I just got back. Don't really want people knowing I've returned until I let them."

"Sorry, sorry. I just have so many questions." She tapped her chin, mind going a million miles a minute in every direction. "Wait. I should go find Randi. Can you believe we can't have phones in this damn place? What an inconvenience. Oh, shit. She's probably still in class—"

"Dagny," I murmured, squeezing her shoulders to get her attention. Our eyes met, and I smiled at her. "It's okay. She'll learn soon enough. I came here to see you. " Pulling up taller, I scratched the back of my head. "And, uh, because I'm tired as hell. Is my room still . . . there?"

"Of course! Where would it go, silly?"

I shrugged. "I dunno. Just thought someone else would take it if the academy thought I was, well . . . you know."

"Dead?"

Dagny Largul had never shied away from speaking her mind or being particularly morbid at times.

"Yes, Dag. That."

She smiled wide, cupped my cheek again like I was her favorite little sister, and nodded furiously. Flapping her hands at me, she said, "Fine, fine, I can let you sleep. For a few hours. Then I'll barrage you with more questions. So much has happened! And I want to know what the elves are like. Were they Ljosalfar? Dokkalfar? Some type we don't even—"

"Dag." I fixed her with a playful glare. "You're doing it again."

"Right! Okay. Go away, Rav. Begone with your sexy behind."

I quirked a brow, smirking, and wandered over to the staircase at the side of the room. I'd always been pretty certain Dagny swung that way—not that it was any concern of mine. It was just good to hear her joking with me, showing her true self instead of the reserved, book-quiet one.

Gods, after everything . . . it was good to be back. My heart was full, where just an hour ago it was fluttering with anxiety.

Maybe things will work out after all.

"And hey, Rav," she called out once I reached the stairs.

I stopped, lifting my head and facing her.

"Don't ever fucking do that again, okay?"

I smiled. "Sure thing, bestie."

Yes, maybe things will work out, my mind repeated.

I should have learned I could never rely on hope to carry me.