Page 1 of The Serpent’s Shadow

Chapter 1

Ravinica

CORYM E’TAR, THE TALLlight elf with flowing silver hair and long tapered ears, moved in a zigzag pattern as he charged me with his strange curved sword.

I watched his feet, as I’d been taught by Swordbaron Korvan, and found him utterly mesmerizing. As a whole, the Ljosalfar elves were entrancing.

Corym moved with gracefulness I’d never seen in humans. Even charging in a jarring, serpentine path, he effortlessly pushed off the tips of his lithe feet and made the whole motion seem organic and fluid, like a river bending around rocks, uninterrupted.

When his sword struck mine, the dazzling moment was lost—his strength much less graceful and pristine than his movements. Pain blared in the bones of my forearm as I held my blade diagonally, sliding it along Corym’s curved weapon to try and detach.

When I pushed off, he kept on the attack, sword blurring as he moved it at odd angles I wasn’t used to. I was on defense the entire time, backpedaling toward trees behind me.

Corym was relentless. His eyes didn’t betray where he would go next—warm orbs the color of summer wheatfields locked on my face, never wavering. His sword arced left and right, circling and riposting with unmatched speed.

Gritting my teeth, I tried to change my momentum frontward, digging my back foot into the mud before pushing into him.

Corym held his ground, spun, and watched as I stumbled forward, making me look like a damn whelp holding a sword for the first time.

It was aggravating, because I was one of the best melee fighters of my class at Vikingrune Academy. From my hometown of Selby Village, I’d been the preeminent champion in combat.

Yet this damned elf made me seem a bumbling fool. He was too fast, too strong, and his onslaught was oppressive. The alien man didn’t seem to tire, which only made things harder.

I recalled the academy, the people I had come to care about there—my friends Dagny and Randi, the men Grim Kollbjorn and Magnus Feldraug.Mymen. A mammoth of a protective bear shifter; a mysterious bloodrender with every inch of his body carved in tattoos and scars.

I yearned to see them again. In the two weeks I’d been a “guest” at the elf encampment, the men and women here had stolen all my focus. I felt honored, in a way, to be the first living human in generations toseeelves firsthand.

It kept me here. Kept me curious. The fact they didn’t throw shackles on my wrists or pin me to the corral helped—their treatment of their prisoners, half-elf or not, seemed much more humane than how humans treated their captives.

Now if only they’d tell me—

Corym charged again, whipping his sword in a blur. With a twist of his wrist and a yelp from me, he nicked the inside of my palm and sent my sword spinning away to the ground.

The elf frowned, his elegant face contorting with small lines near his full lips. He sheathed his weapon over his back, folded his hands in front of his belly. “You are distracted,lunis’ai.Your eyes are elsewhere, when they should be on me.”

I still didn’t know what the elven word “lunis’ai” meant, but Corym seemed insistent on calling me it. Hells, I didn’t know much ofanythingaround here, and I was vexed at being kept in the dark.

Despite the tranquil atmosphere of the elves at the camp, and the respect with which Corym E’tar treated me, I still felt like the clock was ticking. It was like I needed to be back home, at Vikingrune Academy, to make sure everyone I cared about was all right.

I flared my nostrils and walked over to pick up my sword. “Can you blame me?” I asked. “I’ve been here two weeks and you haven’t told me shit, Corym.”

The elf did not twist his face with disdain or make any acknowledgement of my gripe. “Swordplay does not change,” he said, ignoring my complaint. “It is the same in Alfheim as it is in Midgard. Footwork, eyesight, focus. The tenets remain the same.”

“The wielders and combatants change though,” I spat, twisting my back to stretch my weary muscles and bones, before sheathing my sword at my hip. “You are unlike anyone I’ve ever fought. I don’t know your tactics, you move in unexpected ways, like a spider. I can’t read you at all. It’s not like fighting a human because . . . you’re not.”

The elf simply nodded. He moved his hands from in front of him to behind him, clasping them together. Studying me, he pivoted back to his first claim: my distraction. “You wish to return to your school.”

“I do.”

“Are you not getting schooling here, in more than just swordplay? In the runeshaping arts you so desperately sought before arriving here?”

Crossing my arms under my chest, I shook my head and looked at the grass in front of him, defiant and embarrassed.“It’s not the same. I appreciate your aid, Corym. You are skilled. Very skilled. And a good tutor. But I have a life back at Vikingrune Academy, which I’d like to begin again. I have people there who will be worried about me.”

“You can leave whenever you’d like.” He said it with gruffness behind his smooth voice. It sounded like he was getting testy hearing about my life away from the elves, for some odd reason.

Almost like hewantsme to stay.I ignored that thought, and his tone, and packed it away for a different time. “Plus,” I said, “your, um,comradesdon’t especially like me. I’ve heard the way Logaithn speaks about me—wishing you’d killed me back at the river with the other Huscarls.”

Corym turned away, finally breaking his unnerving eye contact on my body. “Logaithn says a lot of things. As I understand it, from what you’ve told me, your time at Vikingrune Academy was not much different. Threats at every turn. Attempts on your life. Persecution.”

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