Page 22 of Into the Isle

Finally, we had someone on board worth watching.

As we carved through the fjords that would bring us to the wider ocean, I tilted my head and kept inspecting Ravinica Linmyrr, who stood starboard, staring out, looking awestruck. I asked myself, What in all the gods is she looking for out there, when we’re surrounded by fog and mist? She can’t see shit.

Her childlike wonder was endearing. I supposed for someone who had never left their little village, anything outside it was amazing and earth-shattering. Even mist and fog that surrounded us and made visibility impossible just a few feet past the railings of the ship.

My rowing bench was less than ten feet from her. Where she stood, perched at the side of the ship, I was granted a lovely profile view.

The woman had curves to make a man forget his own name. No amount of loose-fitting clothes could hide it. Thick in the thighs, a plump ass that miraculously looked both soft and firm at the same time. A round bust and strong arms and shoulders. A pretty face darker than many pale-folk, with some color to her cheeks. And of course the hair—long, swishing in the breeze like tendrils made of moonlight.

I wondered if she realized how gorgeous she was. I figured she didn’t, likely having been ridiculed her entire life. I’d known a half-elf before, and if her life was anything like his had been, it wasn’t enviable.

A protective urge settled inside me, matching my frown. It was odd, because I never felt protective.

“Keep staring and she’ll notice,” Rolf grunted behind me as he rowed.

I scowled over my shoulder at the big man. “Maybe I want that, Rolf.” I shook my head. “She certainly won’t if she keeps her back to everyone.”

“Aye, foolish start, given what she is.”

I glared at him again. How the hell would he know? The cunt was an initiate without any damn experience. What would he know of half-bloods?

Before long, I saw the first sign of trouble, approaching her from behind. Instinctively, I sat up straighter. My lazy foot over my knee came down, my eyes narrowed.

The man approaching Ravinica was a new recruit himself. Part of that gods-forsaken Torfen pack of wolf shifters, who infested our academy grounds like multiplying rodents.

I knew who he was because of his family name—Torfen. Ulf, was it? What the fuck do you think you’re doing messing with my pretty statue? At the same time, I thought, This is why you don’t show your back to strangers, girl. You thought you could escape your problems by escaping your village? Foolish.

Ulf growled in a savage way behind Ravinica. It was ballsy, since the girl’s brother—the only Drengr on board, captaining the ship—wasn’t far at the prow.

I realized what this uncreative brute was doing. Trying to make a name for himself early on. I see who you are, Ulf Torfen. This is why you don’t start fights with people you don’t know. When will your stupid fucking pack realize that?

I was upright now.

Ulf growled again, like the animal he was, as if thinking Ravinica was ignoring him.

Ravinica blinked. The firm statue I’d been analyzing for nearly an hour broke, and a pang of loss hit me.

You were worthy of a painting in that pose, Ravinica.

The girl turned to face Ulf. He was taller than her, though not stronger looking. Yet I knew the savagery of the wolves. They couldn’t be underestimated. I knew essentially nothing about Ravinica, conversely, which was why she intrigued me so much.

“Yes? Can I help you?” Ravinica asked.

I smiled. Her voice was as pleasant as her face. I’d expected something gruff, given her build. She had an air of confidence and femininity in her tone. It made my cock twitch, and I shifted my weight.

“My name is Ulf Torfen.”

My smile flipped and my cock went limp. Ulf’s voice, by comparison, was exactly what I expected: stupid, rough, try-hard. Like he was trying to act older than he was, the damn cub. He was much too loud, making sure the whole longship heard him.

A few faces at the rowing benches twisted over their shoulders to look.

“Is that name supposed to mean something to me?” Ravinica asked, defiant. When she noticed Ulf’s bare arms flexing beneath his sleeveless vest, she shook her head. “Sorry. It’s been a long night. My name is Rav—”

“I don’t give a shit,” Ulf grunted. “You don’t belong here, bog-breed.”

Ravinica’s shoulders slumped. For a moment, I saw the fight go out of her, and I briefly wondered if I had sized the woman up completely wrong. My heart sank.

Then she sighed and lifted her chin. I realized I’d had it wrong: She wasn’t giving up, she was vexed.

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