Page 59 of Into the Isle

“How did you sleep?”

“Better than the first night, strangely enough.”

“The newness of this place is wearing off.” She gestured at the busy crowd around the tables. “As you can see, it’s just like any other college campus.”

I huffed. “Not quite. I take your meaning, though.”

Her smile faltered, her little button-nose scrunching. As she looked me up and down, she shook her head. “Tonight or this weekend, we’re going into Isleton.”

“Why?”

“To get you some new drip.”

“Excuse me?”

Dagny snapped her fingers. “Gotta keep up with the lingo to stay alive, girl. New clothes. A uniform.”

I bowed my head. “Oh. Right.”

“They didn’t give you a uni at orientation?”

My head shook, more shame washing over me. “Said they ran out of my size.”

Dagny snorted. “That’s bullshit. They don’t run out of sizes here. It’s not a fucking Macy’s. Someone’s pulling your chain.”

I didn’t doubt it.

She slapped my arm lightly. “Either way, the town downhill has hand-me-downs. We’ll find you something. Academy policy is that as long as you have the Vikingrune emblem somewhere on you, you’re good.”

I grabbed the sleeve of my shirt, which was creased and starting to darken from white to beige. Despite not being flattering, it was comfortable. “Do I have to get new clothes? I just washed these ones.”

Dag cackled like she thought I was joking. I mean, I hadn’t exactly come here with money. How am I supposed to pay for anything?

“Funny,” she said, still oblivious to the seriousness of my question. “Anything will be better than those rags, Rav. If you want to become a Drengr and survive here, you have to look the part. You can’t look like the village prophet or alleyway drunk.”

My head reeled. Do I really look that bad? Damn.

“Anyway, I gotta go,” she said, patting me on the arm again. “Second-years have a different schedule than initiates, and I’m late. See you at Nottdeen later?”

I nodded. “Of course.”

With that, she took off, leaving me alone again.

Ten minutes later, I had a tray of bread, beans, greens, and porridge to dip the bread into. Not super appetizing, yet filling nonetheless.

I sat down at a table tucked away from the others, with two long-benches filled with people next to me. I was the only one at my table, and leaned over to bite into a food—

When a throat loudly cleared above me. My spoon stopped halfway to my mouth.

A girl stood on the other side of the bench, flanked by two women. She had her hands on her wide hips, a robust frame, and hair the color of the forest—clearly dyed. One of her friends was holding two trays, and I assumed one of them belonged to this girl putting on a sassy stance in front of me.

“Yes?” I asked, putting my spoon down.

“This is our table, bog-blood. You can’t sit here.”

I froze, blinking at her. It took everything inside me not to roll my eyes. Even without outwardly showing my disdain for the wrinkled look of disgust this young woman showed me, my blood boiled inside.

A shock of adrenaline joined the boiling blood. “It’s the only empty table, Miss . . .”

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