Page 16 of Into the Isle

My heart beat against my ribs. Sweat lined my brow. Just get on with it, brother!

He folded the paper, tucking it away, then looked out to the crowd. His eyes finally found mine . . . and his piercing gaze stabbed my heart.

“It’s Damon Halldan.”

I was shocked still for what seemed like hours. Heels frozen to the ground. Heart lodged firmly at the soles of my bare feet. Vaguely, I could hear hollering and cheering coming from the audience.

The throng of villagers shifted away from me, crowding around my younger half-brother to swaddle him in embraces, cheers, congratulations, and well-wishes.

As the crowd dispersed, leaving me standing there, I felt more alone than I ever had.

No. It wasn’t loneliness that broke my heart.

It was betrayal. Unfairness. Hate.

I lifted my gaze and saw Anna across the way, desperately looking for me with tears in her eyes.

Ma came up to me, her face sunken. “Honey. I’m so sorry.”

Hallan, conversely, was cheering loudest of all, pumping his fists into the sky next to his victorious son. To his credit, Damon looked more surprised than anyone, eyes still wide after the announcement.

That surprise quickly shifted to smugness, and he lifted his chin and started taking the well-wishers in hand, thanking them all. He basked in his glory.

“Ravi, did you hear me?” Ma asked.

I blinked at her, fighting back tears. Gently, I shook my head. Still too stunned to speak. All my hard work. All my victories and failures . . . for nothing.

She pulled me close. “You will get there, daughter.”

When? I asked myself. I was already on the wrong end of acceptance being twenty-two. Now I had to stay here for at least another year, to toil in hate from my kinfolk and other villagers? To try and do it all over again?

“If not this year, then when?” I croaked out, sniffling. I wouldn’t let the tears fall. I didn’t want to seem ungrateful or like a sore loser. I didn’t want pity. I didn’t want to feel anything—especially not this overbearing sense of failure and defeat that rotted me to my bones. “No, Ma,” I continued, burying my face in her shoulder. “I don’t think I will. This was it.”

She pulled me to arm’s length, her face stern like a thunderstorm. “You can’t give up, Ravinica,” she hissed. “Don’t wallow.”

I nodded glumly, not really hearing her.

For the next hour, Damon made his rounds. He was literally put on the shoulders of his friends and paraded around town like he’d won the lottery and was about to make everyone in Selby very, very rich.

My younger brother did not take his victory gracefully. He was haughty as ever after the initial shock of his underdog victory wore off.

I had been so confident. Stronger than ever. The elders had even been impressed by my growth and capabilities, despite many of them being chagrined that a bog-blood was proving them wrong.

And now this.

I’d always known that, despite my qualifications, I had a few things working against me. First, of course, my blood and namesake. It had tainted me. Secondly, I had been worried about my inherent physical limitations, being a woman instead of a man. But plenty of women attend Vikingrune. Gods above, even my mother went.

Plus, I had beaten all the boys and men.

Now I was thinking it was the third thing that damned me the most: The fact my inherent magic had not come to fruition. My powers had not unveiled themselves, despite my “advanced” age for an initiate.

Damon had shown me as much the other night when he put his hands in the flame and drew on the fire to light his fingertips, after I’d defeated him in combat. He showed me he could still do something I couldn’t, and rubbed it in my face.

It must have been that, I thought as the festivities began in earnest following Damon’s crowning. The superiors at Vikingrune must place more importance on magical ability than physical ability, which screwed me in the end. They didn’t want to take a chance on me.

I sat on the stoop of my longhouse all afternoon, watching the celebration pass me by. Families brought out roasted hogs, special fish they had brazed and cooked for this occasion, and casks of ale and whiskey to drink the day away.

Damon partook in more drink than he should have, I noticed. He was wobbling around like the village idiot within hours. Bringing shame to our family with his antics and goading.

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