Page 15 of Into the Isle

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.

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