Page 162 of The Serpent’s Shadow

And then, staring up at the grassy roof of the longhouse, five feet from its entrance, I Shaped the sky.

I worked three, four, five runes in rapid succession. As one Shape began to fade into nothingness, I was already drawingthe next, illuminating the air with my magic, building sources and giving them directives to hone in on the longhouse and the warmth at my feet.

Headiness swam through me, tugging at my insides, empowering me. It was a surreal experience, and there were no explosions or fancy shimmering lights past the vague spherical shape of the portal in front of me.

The portal that had shown itself to me only because I met the requirements to wield it. I was certain that had anyone else stepped into this longhouse—even a runeshaper as powerful as Gothi Sigmund—they would have been met with cold earth and dry walls.

With a flourish of my hands, I swept an arc through the sky above me, mimicking the examples and positions from the textbooks I had read last night.

The world seemed to shift on its axis for me and me only, tilting, and I swayed in place. I fought against the burn of exhaustion in my mind, reeling, blinking wildly to stay upright.

“Ravinica!” a voice shouted behind me, though I didn’t know which mate it belonged to.

With my heart thundering in my chest, I turned to face the entourage.

Behind me, all was as I’d left it, with the exception of the small transluscent bubble of magic that had once been here and then been snuffed out by the elves leaving this realm.

“It is done,” I said, directly to Gothi Sigmund. “The portal is open.” When he grunted with a small hum, I added, “It’s your turn to make good on your side of the bargain, sir.”

The moment was agonizing. My fingers twitched, my eyes swerved from one mean-looking Huscarl to the next.

If Sigmund Calladan wanted, this could have been another rout, another slaughter. It was thirty against five. Theexpressions on my mates’ faces were bewildered, slightly aghast at what had just happened. What I’d just done.

Gothi Sigmund stepped forward from the crowd, large and in charge. A black cloak swept behind him, making him not unlike the helmeted soldiers at his command.

“I am a man of my word, cadet.”

With a flick of his wrist, Sigmund silently ordered two Huscarls to run off, back the way we’d entered.

Moments later, I gasped as the two soldiers led a bound man out of a closed, windowless carriage we’d brought with us. He was taller than the soldiers, ears high and pointed as he was pushed through the crowd, up to the fore. His skin shimmered, pale light in the darkening twilight.

“Corym!” I cried out.

I hadn’t known he’d been in the convoy in a carriage.

Corym E’tar raised his bowed chin and looked at me, wrists tied with rope in front of his body. His expression brightened, a smile coming to his face . . .

. . . And then he looked past me, golden eyes widening, and his smile faltered. He let out a sound of despair, wrenched reflexively from his body. An appalled expression crossed his smooth, perfect face.

And Corym fell to his knees, awestruck.

“Lunis’ai,” he moaned. “. . . What have you done?”

I rushed to him, sprinting, my heart failing in my chest. Pain wrapped around me when I looked at the deathly pallor to his cheeks, the defeated expression twisting his features like his life was crumbling all around him.

It very well might have.

“Corym, please,” I mewled, on my knees in front of him, gathering his shoulders in my hands. “I had to do it. You don’t understand. I couldn’t sit by and watch you die!”

Our foreheads met, tears trickling down my cheeks.

“You opened the portal to Alfheim,” he whispered—a scathing sound. “Why, Ravinica?”

“I just told you! I knew you wouldn’t do it because you’re too proud, and they would have killed you!”

“And I would have gladly died for it! Now . . . my people are damned.”

His voice was a punch to my gut. If I hadn’t already been on my knees, it would have knocked me to them. It struck to my core, buckling my resolve.

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