Chapter 29 | Ravinica

Chapter 29

Ravinica

IT WAS THE SUNDAY BEFORE finals week. The first four days of the week, I'd have a different final test each day. On the fifth day, initiates who passed their four classes would party hard.

It was also going to be a full moon this Friday, which added some jitters to the already-jittery student body. It would also be the thirteenth of the month this Friday, so if a girl believed in ominous superstitions, then this was going to be a doozy of a celebration.

Luckily, I didn't believe in any of that.

Over the past two weeks, I'd kept my head down and studied my ass off. I hardly saw my men, which was awful, but I knew there'd be plenty of time to catch up with them—in more ways than one—after this hellacious week was through.

Priorities and all that jazz.

As far as I knew, Magnus was still getting leeched by the academy doctors and scientists every other day. Perhaps not, though, because the few times I did see him, either putzing around campus or watching me from afar, he seemed in better health than our last meeting. Or at least how our last meeting started. When it ended, well . . . I'd never seen a sociopath so chipper.

While Magnus kept to the shadows for the most part, Grim made no secrets about where he was. Not that the huge man could hide even if he wanted.

My berserker had been stationed at Tyr Meadow nearly every day, training his handful of "apprentices." Randi needed the most help sparring, so he focused on her. She was also busy with her boyfriend, Ulf Torfen, which annoyed Grim to no end because he just wanted to be done with all this teaching and slink back into the woods where he could be solitary and at peace.

I wanted to slink into the woods with him, though I hadn't gotten a chance to since coming back. The textbooks were stacking, the trials were tribulating.

I had to pass these tests. Otherwise, as Hersir Jorthyr Ingvus had so poignantly pointed out my first day here, I'd be axed. Exiled. Banished. Maybe worse.

Hel, if I ever wanted to join the Lepers Who Leapt, maybe that's my way in. Get shipped off on the Gray Wraith back to Selby Village, and upon unmooring, launch myself off the gunwale and brave the icy ocean to try and make my way back to the Isle.

I didn't take that thought seriously. Firstly, my inherent magic was no longer dormant, which meant I didn't really qualify to join the non-magic group. Secondly, I had my people here, at Vikingrune. Even if I wanted to bring down the system, which I surely did, I wanted my mates and friends close by when I attempted it.

I also had no fucking clue how I was going to bring down a monolithic academy that had been here for centuries, had trained thousands of runeshapers much stronger and knowledgeable than me.

During my studies, I was realizing that staging a revolution was more complex than I'd thought. Even if I convinced the students they were being lied to, what about their legacy parents? The ones who painstakingly raised their young to follow in their footsteps?

Most people wouldn't cut familial ties that easily.

I wasn't likely to turn those stalwart defenders of the Old Way, the Vikingrune alumni, to my cause. I was just a lass in her early twenties—I would be laughed out of the smoky rebel tavern by the elder statesmen who provided for this academy and helped fund it.

If anything, the older generation was more likely to shackle my ass to a wall and make sure the truth never got out if they found out I'd uncovered it. Vikingrune Academy was not just a place of learning, it was also a hub of influence and a launch pad for careers, nobles, bureaucrats, and runeshapers after they graduated.

Not only that . . . but so what if I convinced my peers Vikingrune had lied to them about the premise of its purpose? Was that supposed to magically realign their entire lives to suit my wants and needs?

"Oh, the elves aren't really as evil as Vikingrune is saying, and they don't want to bring the destruction of Midgard? Cool. Have fun with your little rebellion."

That was the response I expected from the student body. That, and being called a liar and a madwoman. Fact was, I didn't have proof of my claims, other than the visions Lady Elayina had shown me and the words of the Ljosalfar I'd lived with.

Conveniently—or inconveniently for me—I couldn't produce Elayina, the texts stating the truth, or the elves to back me up.

I had already been persecuted and tormented my entire life for being a half-breed, a woman, and a magicless mage. Did I really want to torment myself further by bringing the conflict to me ?

It was a damning, humbling notion, coming to these realizations. Bottom line, if I was going to do anything, I needed a plan. And a damned good one.

And to think, I originally came here to assassinate the people who damaged my family's reputation . . . and now I'm thinking of bringing down the whole damn system.

I laughed at myself, shaking my head—noticing how foolish and silly it sounded.

Sitting in the lobby of Nottdeen Quarter on an Ottoman, with my feet propped up on a sofa cushion in front of me, I upturned a box of chocolate-covered peanuts over my face to down the rest of the tasty treats.

Only three peanuts came out. I frowned, staring up at the empty box held over my head. I polished off these bad boys quickly.

With a sigh, I tossed the box to the floor, rubbed my eyes, and returned to the textbook on Viking history in my lap.

This had been my perch, my base of operations, for days. Right here in the lobby, reading, eating, sleeping, showering upstairs, and not necessarily in that order.

I may have skipped a shower or three . . . and traded an actual meal for a sweet treat or two.

"Gods, woman, you already finished off that box?" Dagny asked, off to the side behind the front counter. "Have you ever heard of pacing yourself? That's a one-way ticket to diabetes—"

"Who's the one who got them for me from Isleton?" I chirped, throwing a glare over my shoulder. "I didn't choose the sweet life, Dag. It chose me."

"Yeah, well I didn't choose twenty over one-hundred vision, either, but here we are." She bobbed her bony shoulders. "We don't make the rules. The Norns decide our fates."

My frown turned into a pout. ". . . So that means you're not gonna go back to Isleton for another tasty treat run? You don't ever get the munchies, Dagny?"

She scoffed and buried her head in a book at her desk. "No, Rav, because I'm not a stoner."

"For shame, bestie." I turned the page of my book to keep reading. No rebellion was ever won on an empty stomach, Dagny. And I was much too lazy to go to the cafeteria every time I wanted a snack.

Lifting my head, I said, "Speaking of that. Does anyone smoke weed on campus? Everyone drinks, but . . . who's the plug? I haven't seen a red-eyed hippie my entire time here."

This time she let out a snort. "Just wait for Friday. The central woods will be thick with clouds of wacky smoke."

I grinned. "Can't wait."

The door to the dormitory swung open, and my eyes swiveled across from Dagny's counter, out from the little side alcove where I sat.

Sven Torfen marched in, a severe frown on his stupid handsome face.

Dagny went rigid. "Sven Torfen! You know the rules—"

He was already streaming past her, headed right for me.

I pretended not to notice him, head bowed, because I knew it vexed him to no end to not be the center of attention. My former bully could certainly stand a little teasing as payback for all he'd put me through.

With my head stuffed in my book, I turned the page. From the top of my vision, I could see his jeans, bulging from thick thigh muscles and . . . other things between them.

He shifted his stance. Put his hands on his hips, annoyed.

When he cleared his throat, I blinked and looked up innocently at him. "Oh, Sven. Sorry. Didn't see you there."

His hands moved from his hips to his chest, arms folding. "Don't bullshit me, little menace. Where is he?"

I cocked my head in confusion. My confusion was not fake, unlike the coy expression I'd just been sporting. "Who?"

"Arne!"

My pressed against the cushiony seatback. "Iceshaper Arne? How the hell should I know?"

His dark eyes narrowed—bottomless abysses flecked with red and orange hues. His wind-swept hair stayed perfectly slicked against his scalp. I studied every inch of his delectable face, finding myself disappointed I hadn't taken more time to explore it over the past weeks since my return from captivity.

"What do you want with him?" I pried, after he'd stayed silent for too long and the quiet became uncomfortable.

"I was following him for a week, every day since you returned. Then he vanished." He made a poof sound, pantomiming a smoke-bomb going off into nothingness. "I'm sure you have something to do with it."

My nostrils flared, nose wrinkling. "Well that sucks. But I don't have any idea."

"I don't believe you."

"That also sucks."

I hadn't seen Arne in days, either, though I hadn't gone looking for him. Ever since I told him what he might do to win me back . . . well, perhaps he was off making good on his promise. That would be a first.

Sven pushed my outstretched legs off the loveseat and sat down across from me. I let out a dismayed scoff as my feet thudded to the ground.

The asshat had no manners.

Hands on his knees, he leaned closer, examining my face much too intently. Sven was a predator at his core. It was something I found incredibly sexy but also alarming and worrying, especially if I was the one in his crosshairs.

The man had just admitted to stalking another student, day in and day out. That should have been a red flag. "Why were you following him?" I asked.

"To make sure he wasn't fucking with you."

My eyes widened expectantly, in a "well-isn't-that-ironic?" way. "Here I was, worried you would be the one fucking with me. Considering your track record."

Sven rolled his eyes and sat back, staring up at the ceiling. "Really? This again? I thought we were past that."

"Sorry, I didn't get that memo," I said playfully. "You never told me you're not a bully anymore, or explained why you're soft for me now."

Honestly, this was one of the longer conversations I'd ever had with Sven, and seeing him flustered gave me great satisfaction. Especially after the boredom of my studies.

I wanted to keep him talking, if only to hear him talk.

Gods, I'm so lost.

" Soft for you?" He snorted incredulously. "Let's not get carried away, Ravinica. You're still a pain in my ass."

"Okay. Well what have you been doing in the interim, while unable to find Arne?"

"I've been following you instead. Obviously."

My head lurched. "Really?" I thought I'd felt his watchful eyes on me a few times while cruising through campus, but I never expected him to admit it so openly and unabashedly.

"Yes. For the same reason. So no one fucks with you."

My lips moved but no words came out. I closed them, trying again. Do you just realize you actually said something nice , Sven, and, dare I say . . . romantic?

He was hopeless, because he surely didn't notice it. "Nice" was not one of Sven Torfen's settings. He spit everything out with vitriol, like he had a chip on his shoulder.

I would likely never understand it. He came from a powerful family, well-respected in the community, and I . . . did not. What the hell could Sven Torfen have to be so angry about all the time?

I shook my head gently, coming back to the present, focusing on his imminently kissable lips. So full, perfectly pink, curved at the top with a lovely divot in the middle . . .

"Stop staring at me like you're the wolf, little menace. I'm the wolf."

I gulped. Looked down at my book, trying to suffocate my flushed face. "Don't I know it," I murmured. Clearing my suddenly dry throat, I sheepishly glanced back up to him. "So you've been following me . . ."

"And it's been boring as hell! You haven't done anything in days! You've just locked yourself here, whiling away your time, ‘studying,' allegedly—"

". . . and you didn't come say hi?"

"—or whatever it is you've been doing here surrounded by boxes of candy." He paused, and I could see his mind rewinding, mouth still open. "Wait, what?"

I shrugged. "Should have joined me. Maybe it would've been more fun."

Sven stood. He eyed the discarded cartons at my feet, making a disgusted face. "Oh, we'll have our fun. You can count on that, you little fucking menace."

I blushed furiously when I noticed the trio of boxes he stared down so judgmentally at—peanuts, candy, and more peanuts. He was right, I was being a slob, and this wasn't usually like me.

Wait a second. Am I fucking . . . depressed? There was something I felt like I was missing in my life. A piece that had been torn asunder.

Hells above, maybe it was Sven.

Hells below , maybe it's the missing link in this strange cornucopia of men I've become so accustomed to. The one I haven't seen at all since my return, yet who still walks beside me in my dreams.

Corym E'tar.

Sven left my presence after his promise of our upcoming "fun," which admittedly got my blood running hot. As he walked away, I stared at his strong shoulders and thought of a different man. An elf.

Locked away, just like Sven accuses me of doing over the past week. Has Corym wondered about me? Has Arne found him and the Lepers yet? Surely that must be where Arne has gone.

Regardless, I made a decision right there.

After this finals week, with either success or failure, I would find Corym E'tar.