Page 9 of The Serpent’s Shadow

“Who?” I asked, voice echoing through the breezy canopies.

“Arne Gornhodr.”

“The iceshaper? Why have you been following him?”

“Why haven’tyou?” Sven shot back. “You say you care for Ravinica Linmyrr, yet you wallow in these woods, self-isolating, to wage your pity-party?”

I wouldn’t let his barbs affect me. Not now. I was too curious. “You’re saying you suddenly care for the girl, then?”

Sven ignored me. “We must question Arne. I believe someone already is. I don’t know how innocent that interrogation might be, seeing as he was the lone survivor from the river massacre. Do you not find that strange?”

“I do,” I said. I hadn’t given Arne much thought since he’d come back to us wide-eyed and bloodied and told us about Ravinica’s abduction.

I cursed myself for not staking off into the Niflbog and deeper into the Isle back then, to try and recover my little sneak before she got too far away from me.

Granted, we’d had no idea what we were up against. We’d been lost, confounded, and faced with an immediate new threat with the Ljosalfar elves.

Since they hadn’t killed her on the grass next to the creek, they likely wouldn’t kill her at all. At least that was my hope—my burning need. Because if the elves harmed a single silver hair on Ravinica’s body, I would find a way to Alfheim and destroy their entire plane of existence.

A jag of rage stabbed through me, and I quickly stifled it.

“Why have you come to tell me this, wolf?” I tilted my head. “Your typical move is to shoot first and ask questions later.”

“Says the bear who just tried to kill us for existing in the same space as you.”

“Why haven’t you already engaged Arne, if you believe he’s lying to us or hiding something?”

Sven glanced away, showing a moment of self-reflection and perhaps some discomfort. “Same reason I orchestrated rescuing you from Jorthyr’s prison. Ravinica would want your assistance.”

“It certainly isn’t because you’re a wiser, saner, more stable presence, Kollbjorn,” Olaf added, coughing as he pounded his chest and wiped his bloody nose.

Point taken.

“I know you didn’t kill Astrid Dahlmyrr,” Sven said. “I suspect I know who did.” He tapped his clean-shaven chin. The man liked to keep his face bare and fresh.

“You would continue our alliance?” I asked.

Sven sighed. “Cautiously.”

I snorted with a small chuckle. “Then let us question Arne together.”

“Which one of you is going to be good cop, bad cop?” Edda asked. “You’re both assholes.”

My small smile widened, and Sven’s did too as he glanced over at me.

We had an understanding.

“You never pull your punches, eh, sister?” Sven asked.

“Neither do you, brother,” Ulf cut in. “Remember when you throat-chopped me for no gods-damned reason, during orientation?”

“You were being a whiny bitch, little pup,” Sven pointed out.

Olaf and Edda laughed, and the quartet started walking out of the clearing together.

I slowly followed behind them, feeling stunned I was placing my trust in these four members of a wolf pack that had always been at odds with my own people.

“Just stuff your tits away, Edda, and we’ll be fine,” Sven chimed in.

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