Page 173 of Into the Isle

Only what I’ve just learned from Elayina’s mind magic.

There was no other answer I could find.

They wanted to silence me.

But how could they know about it? What I’ve just learned?

I had too many questions.

I wanted to know why, yet I wouldn’t ask Arne in mixed company. I will have my revenge if they don’t kill me, I thought, and then I will get all the answers I need.

As we walked through the forest, I said nothing. My captors were silent, and even talkative Arne was quiet. If anything, he had shown regret over what he’d done—I’d seen it on his face.

Unless that is simply more acting. Betrayal was no easy thing to stomach, as the turncloak, I imagined.

We marched for two hours toward the academy, east. Soon, we would reach Isleton and the thinner Helgas Wood.

The Huscarls kept their heads on a swivel, scanning the trees we passed. We were far from the known territory of the academy. As we reached a glade, a clearing, we stopped for water at a creek.

Arne offered to shovel water into my mouth, and I snapped my teeth at him like an animal to keep him away.

One of the Huscarls did it instead.

I was on my knees, bending low. The Huscarl was beside me, cupping water and lifting it to my lips.

When I pursed my lips to drink, he parted his fingers and the shallow puddle in his palms slid through his gasp. “Oops,” he said to me with a cruel smile. Then he began to stand. “She’s ready.”

I wasn’t even mad. It was to be expected.

Warmth spilled over my hair and the back of my neck in a sudden rush. Looking down at my reflection in the babbling creek, I saw it turn murky and brown.

My brow furrowed.

A gurgling sounded close to me.

My head whipped over—

Just as the Huscarl toppled backward, tripping over my body and falling into the creek.

He stared up at the sky with lifeless eyes, in an insane example of instant karma. The fletchings of an arrow stuck out from his throat.

I gasped.

“Fuck—Mark!” another Huscarl cried out.

“We’re under attack!” cried another.

I spun around on my knees—

Just in time to see figures glide into the meadow from the trees, like apparitions of shimmering death.

My heart soared, and my first thought: Grim! Magnus! They’ve come to rescue me!

But it wasn’t them. These people moved much too gracefully, purposefully. They wore armor that seemed to glimmer in gold, making them the color of the sun. The light reflected off their pristine garb, and they moved like a well-oiled machine.

The Huscarls stood no chance.

They raised their weapons, their spears, their shields—and the ambushers cut them down with long, curved blades I’d never seen before.

---