Page 23 of The Serpent’s Shadow

The elf stood and sighed, putting a hand to his forehead to swipe his glorious sun-silver hair out of his face. “Escort her to the corral.”

The guards nodded. I scoffed with derision, lifting my chin. I had needed to hear Corym say it: I was still his prisoner.

“Ravinica.” When I paused and looked over my shoulder, he said, “Patience. Please. That’s all I ask.”

More patience? Fuck that!

I realized I couldn’t rely on anyone else. If I was going to leave here and warn Vikingrune about the situation at hand, I would have to do it without help.

I walked toward the “corral” with my golden-armored escort. It was essentially a makeshift barn for me to sleep in, complete with a small cot.

As I walked through camp, earning typical scowls and haughty expressions, I glared at everyone I passed. A cold autumn sun fell on me, making me squint, and I started to think more about the situation and what I could do.

Warning Vikingrune . . . is it really in my best interest?

I had almost forgotten that the Huscarls the elves attacked by the creek had been the ones who kidnapped me first. Sent by someone from Vikingrune Academy to bring me in, led by Arne Gornhodr.

I’m without a home. As always. Trapped between these two worlds.

The only home I had, that I could think of, was with my friends and the men I trusted: Grim and Magnus. Dagny and Randi.

Anger swelled inside me at the position I’d found myself in. Just an hour ago, I had walked through this camp with my hand entwined with Corym E’tar’s. Now, I was back where I started—untrusting, suspicious.I should have never asked to sit with the council.

As I stepped into the small confines of the corral, I wondered if I should try to help Vikingrune Academy at all, or just let it burn. I wondered if I’d made a huge mistake letting Arne live, free to spout whatever bullshit he wanted once he returned to the academy. I wondered if my friends and mates were looking for me.

I wondered, I wondered, I wondered . . .

Chapter 9

Arne

I LEFT KELVAR THE WHISPERER’Soffice and wiped sweat from my brow before leaving the building. Lifting my shoulders, I stepped outside into the dark, cloudy morning, trying to act normal, like nothing was amiss.

Visiting the Whisperer’s office every other day for three weeks was taking its toll on me. I felt antsy, jittery, and doomed. The gray-haired master interrogator had a way of making his whispers stay in your mind long after they’d been spoken, whether it was a threat or honeyed words.

Kelvar told me everything would be all right as long as I kept providing him information. I had a tendency to believe him, which I knew was damned stupid.

It wasn’t my own mind making that decision.

This time around, he’d asked about the elves who had attacked me, Ravinica, and the Huscarls. I told him the truth: They had struck like steel lightning, brilliantly dispatching the six Huscarls with aplomb. Without breaking a sweat.

Earlier this week, Kelvar had asked about their weapons, their armor, their weaknesses. I’d told him about their curved blades and radiant-gold breastplates. I hadn’t had a chance to notice any weaknesses, because it all happened so fast. Plus, one of them had punched me in the face, addling my mind. Then there was the knife Ravinica rightly held to my throat.

That horrible time had been increasingly fueling my nightmares in my little fox’s absence.

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