Page 128 of The Serpent’s Shadow

“Answers,” I said, still staring out. “Always answers.”

Randi snorted. “The only answer you’re gonna find out there right now is hypothermia and a bad hair day, babe.”

Over my shoulder, I smiled at her. Her eyes twinkled.

I said, “How was your celebration yesterday, Ran?”

She opened and closed her mouth. “. . . Eventful.”

Her wicked grin made me smile. “How about you, Dag?”

“Uneventful. Just how I like it.”

I laughed and sat back in the couch. There was so much running through my mind my best friends didn’t know about.

Prophecies, elves, Alfheim, assassinations, secrets, lies.

Love.

Heady subjects, one and all. I wanted a break from all this. The storm was presenting a perfect opportunity. I couldn’t relax until Arne and Magnus knew what Grim and Sven had learned, and until I had a response from them—either leaving me or coming to grips with it.

As the hours waned, my boredom grew. I took a nap on the couch, drooling all over my self with my head to the side.

I dreamed of a large creature flying over the academy, its blackened wings casting shadows down through the jagged lightning bolts.

The dream was so real it startled me awake.

I found myself with my cheek on Dagny’s lap.

I sat up, rubbed my eyes. “Damn. How long was I out?”

Glancing over, I saw Dagny was also asleep, her head tilted back on the couch.

Gazing out the window, gray clouds still commanded the horizon, yet the rain had stopped. They’d left a soggy sheen over the academy, darkening the cobbles and glistening the grass.

With a sigh, I stood. Randi was nowhere to be seen. Other girls were talking in hushed whispers in a corner of the lobby, and the footsteps overhead from the second story were loud—all the initiates huddling up in the dormitory for the wintry weather, to pass stories, gossip, and have one final weekend together.

The door to the dormitory swung open as I stepped toward it, freezing me.

Arne Gornhodr stepped in. His hair tumbled in gentle golden waves down his shoulders, recently permed, it appeared. The iceshaper was dressed in a deep red, button-up tunic, cuffed with gold lining at the lapel and down the seams. He looked like a medieval nobleman, shirking his typical blue “icy” clothes for this more regal look.

His getup made him more handsome and striking than pretty and roguish, and I wondered if that was by design—if he was going for a new approach since I’d halfway forgiven him after finding Corym and the Lepers Who Leapt.

He noticed my widened eyes when he stepped in, neck swiveling, and he smiled. “Ah, just the fox I was looking for.”

“Hi,” I replied, momentarily forgetting my words. “What are you doing here? Better hope Dagny doesn’t wake up and see you stomping around in Nottdeen.”

“She’s a good bulldog, that kitty.”

“Don’t call her that,” I snapped, feeling defensive on my friend’s behalf.

“Sorry,” Arne muttered. “She’s a good bulldog, that pussycat.”

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head. “You were doing so good, too.”

He gave me a crooked grin and reached his hand out. “Let’s go, little fox.”

“Where?”

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