Page 113 of The Serpent’s Shadow

The rest of the night went off without a hitch. Some students stayed up late, into the wee hours, getting their party on early. I could hear the hollering and laughing from the window of my dorm room.

I, like others, called it an early night. With just a simple slip of paper, the entire school seemed to shift on its axis. For the first time, oblivious students were becoming aware of things going on around them that were suspicious. Things thatwent against their very belief systems and what they’d grown up understanding.

Vikingrune Academy had taken a massive PR hit, and it had happened swiftly. I could only imagine how they would respond, or react, given the tenuous nature of their hold over the students. It was a delicate balance, attempting to assuage the students’ worries while also claiming innocence.

There was no courtroom or appeal the academy could use to their benefit. No laws had been broken—only “cowardice” and “slander,” which really amounted to nothing.

The message had shown clearly enough that words could break and damage just as powerfully as a sword.

As the sun rose into my window, waking me, I stretched, got out of bed, and hit the showers like any other day. I moved at a slow pace, knowing what I wanted and needed to do today. I was in no rush.

After getting dressed in my tunic, pants, and fur coat, I grabbed my spear at the last second and headed downstairs.

For once, I didn’t find Dagny behind the desk. It was empty, as was the lobby.

I smiled at the base of the stairs, letting out a contented sigh. I prayed to the gods Dag was out socializing for once, now that classes were over for the term. If I found her later today without a stack of books in her arms, it would be a blessing.

The academy was in rare form as I stepped out into the late-morning sun. Students moseyed around campus, making it busier than I’d ever seen. Not just initiates, but also cadets, third-years, seniors. The whole place buzzed with life.

It seemed the message from last night hadn’t yet seeped into anyone’s pores.Probably for the best.

I walked toward the cafeteria near Nottdeen Quarter, eager to get some grub, because I couldn’t well drink on an empty stomach.

During my walk, I reminisced on the rebel-note from last night. It hadn’t been very detailed. It said the academy had lied to the students about the elves, but what did that mean?How much does this person know?

It was much different than saying, for instance, that King Dannon had betrayed Lord Talasin—not the other way around—which was what led to their mutual destruction and incited the Taldan Wars in the first place. It hadn’t explained that the King Who Saw actually “saw” a self-fulfilling prophecy that would be started by his own hand.

Then again, there was the matter of room and spacing. Couldn’t exactly write a treatise or history lesson on a single sheet of paper—much less mass-produce it.

That’s another thing. The note looked handwritten, yet it was stuffed intoeverypamphlet oneveryseat. That’s over fifty students who received the same message.

Had someone hired out a team to handwrite every note, or had a singular person painstakingly copied each and every one?

There were answers I wanted, because nothing was clear yet. This note only made things more confusing and hectic for me, because it catapulted my “vision” into reality.

There was no time to stand back any longer. Not when momentum was on our side.Whoever “our” is. I don’t even know who’s on my team concerning this. That’s probably a good place to start.

I needed to figure out who was sympathetic to this esoteric cause.Thenwe could start planning a true revolution, once we had a better idea of our numbers and what we were up against.

It was naïve of me to believe I could create any kind of change here. As I’d thought before, Vikingrune Academy was not just a school . . . it was a lifestyle and conglomerate. It was not just the Gothi who ran the place, but the seedy, shadowy figures I’dnever meet, who never showed their faces, who operated behind the scenes of every big enterprise like this one.

I certainly had my work cut out for me.

Stepping toward the door of the cafeteria longhouse, a sound make me jerk with surprise.

“Pssst,” came the voice, like something out of a Scooby-Doo mystery.

Quirking my brow, I glanced to my right, around the side of the building . . . where Arne Gornhodr stood in the shadows, hidden by some nearby bushes.

I nearly burst out laughing, seeing his midnight-blue tunic, all fanciful and finely pressed, mixed in with the weeds and leaves that framed his magnetic golden mane.

The iceshaper stood out like a sore thumb. He wasn’t fooling anyone with his hiding spot.

I walked over to him, trying to mask my smile. His pretty face looked serious. Gone were the bruises and purpled skin. Returned were those familiar high facial bones, elven-like gauntness to his cheeks, and dazzling blue eyes.

“There you are,” I said, scooting around to the side of the building at his urging. “Where have you been?” I kept my voice low, yet he still put a finger over his lips and looked over his shoulders conspiratorially, as if he thought he was being watched. “Don’t worry,” I muttered, “Sven isn’t back there in the bushes. He has been looking for you though.”

Arne blinked. “He has?” His bright face shifted, sinking. “That’s . . . disappointing.”

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