Page 112 of The Serpent’s Shadow

His face went from disbelief, to flustered frustration—pinched brow, creases in his forehead—to sheer anger.

He strode up the side stairs onto the stage, lifting the pamphlet high above his head. I figured we were about to get a much different message than the one he’d planned to give for his address.

“Who is responsible for the slanderousliesinside here?” he called out.

The entire hall went from raucous, confused conversation to pin-drop silence in a heartbeat.

Sigmund kept wagging the booklet in the air. “Show yourself, coward, and you will not be remanded.”

No one said a thing. Eyes glanced left and right, students witnessing the powerful Gothi unravel before our eyes.

It was fascinating, surely. Magnus was right about that.

Sigmund’s voice rose, his long chest-length beard waffling left and right as his head turned to take in every student sitting before him. “We do not tolerate cowardice or rebelliousness at Vikingrune Academy!”

He continued, lecturing us on what integrity meant, how these were lies and unsupported by facts, and how our purpose at Vikingrune had not changed in generations.

“Just because the elves have allegedly shown themselves in Midgard after centuries away does not make them our allies or friends. Do not be swayed by the dangerous words in this pamphlet, initiates!”

He sounded . . . desperate. Eager to get his point across.Notin control, as he had always sounded during every other auditorium speech. The mythical figure, the powerful chieftainof the academy, was starting to show his humanness and frayed edges.

Inside, I didn’t care so muchwhohad written the note and stuffed it into every commencement pamphlet here. The entire operation seemed industrious and ingenious to me.Get the message across when all the students are forced together in one room. The end of the term. Get people talking for the first time.

How long must that scheme have taken to plan out and execute?

No, I cared more about what it meant moving forward.

Because it seemed someone had done my job for me.

Whether I liked it or not, whether I wasreadyor not, someone had sparked the flames of my planned rebellion and fanned them into a whole-ass academy crisis.

And I washerefor it.

Chapter 33

Ravinica

THE CELEBRATIONS BEGANearly on Friday, in earnest. The academy was forced to open the western and southern gates to soften the blow of the cryptic message from last night, to try and show they weren’t the bad guys here. That they were being “transparent.”

Opening the gates enabled students to go to Isleton to unwind . . . and probably be spied on. The end-of-term festivities were one of the small village’s highlights and busiest weekends. It paid for the slower winter months, upcoming.

Plus, tonight was going to be a full moon, and the academy didn’t want shifters in heat causing a ruckus on campus.

Commencement had gone much differently than how I assumed the Hersirs had planned it to go. Everyone gave shortened, clipped versions of their speeches. I could tell they were frustrated, trying to fight against the crowd, rather than being warm, inviting, and congratulatory.

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