Page 137 of Into the Isle

Chapter 39

Ravinica

I HITCHED MY FOOT OVER to the next toehold—a crack in the stony edifice of the pillar. When I reached over the peaked lip of the roof, fingers curling around the open windowsill, hands abruptly fell on my wrists from the room beyond.

I gasped, seeing the swirls of tattoos on both hands, illuminated by the moonlight behind me.

Magnus poked his head out.

“Don’t do it, Scar,” I shot out. My feet stumbled for purchase on my tenuous toeholds—three stories up in the sky.

He smirked. “Never, Mufasa.”

With that, he hauled me up through the window with surprising strength, into the room. Our bodies collided awkwardly as I landed on my feet.

Yes, even two Viking-blooded initiates living in far-off villages away from modern civilization could quote Disney classics.

“The nickname fits for me,” he said into my ear. A layer of goosebumps broke out along my arms. We were still locked in an embrace, with Magnus catching me when I landed in the records room of Mimir Tomes.

My hands snuck along his forearms, feeling the raised flesh of his scars underneath his tattoos. “Shit,” I said, frowning. “Sorry. I didn’t think about that.”

He chuckled. “It’s fine.”

“I’m not gonna call you Scar again, Magnus. It’s not fine.” I gulped and slowly separated from him, though it pained me to do so.

He held a smile on his face—only the second genuine smile I’d seen from the draug since coming here. In weeks of doing our secret research, the emotionless, unreadable man hadn’t let me break through his shell.

Now, he seemed in a better mood than I’d ever seen.

And for good reason. We passed the damn Combat & Strategy trial today! I wanted to scream it to the heavens, except I knew there was no quicker way to call Huscarls to our location.

His gray eyes landed on mine, smile faltering as he turned toward our tables, which he had already set up.

“You were amazing out there,” he said over his shoulder, without looking at me.

“You too,” I replied, following him to the tables.

“I never thought you’d go for being our decoy.”

I shrugged. “I knew Astrid had it out for me. Had to use it to our advantage. The deciding factor was you being our ace in the hole, Magnus. Our best-kept secret.”

When I shot him a smile, he felt my presence and glanced over his shoulder. I chewed my lip, lowering my head. “Maybe that’s what I’ll have to call you. Ace.”

He snorted and started rummaging around in a backpack he had on the chair his trench coat was hanging over. “Please, gods no.”

I laughed. “So? How are we celebrating our victory?”

---