Page 26 of The Serpent’s Shadow

Chapter 10

Sven

FOR BEING SUCH A FRAIL, feminine-looking man, Arne proved surprisingly resilient. I would have been impressed if I wasn’t so angry.

My fist crunched into his side, and the man let out a wheezing grunt. I cracked my knuckles again, noticing the bruising of his ribs, and frowned at him. “I can do this all day, iceshaper. If you wish to help us, why are you resisting?”

He coughed and spit on the ground at my feet. He was shirtless, showing a hairless, toned body. Wiry and lithe, with his blond hair lank around his sweaty scalp and shoulders. His arms were tied behind his back in the chair we’d put him in.

“Have to k-keep up appearances, dear wolfie,” Arne said with a sly smirk. His pretty face was turning a ghastly shade of yellow and purple on the right side from the initial punch I’d landed on him. His bright blue eye would be bruised shut for a few days.

Still, the man didn’t complain. Even with Grim standing behind me, arms crossed, ready to slam his own meaty fists into the smaller elementalist if it came to it.

I suspected Arne would break soon. Grim wouldn’t be necessary. Magnus had already left, strangely. The tattooed menace had looked at the sky, judging the time, and said he had to be somewhere. That was thirty minutes ago, before we started interrogating Arne.

“Where do you have to be that’s more important than this?” I’d asked him. What I’d meant was: Where do you have to be that’s more important than Ravinica?

By the heavy shade of his gray eyes, I’d known Magnus understood my meaning. “Not more important,” he’d said. “But equally. It’s for her.”

“What in Hel is that supposed to mean?”

“I’ll tell you when I’m able. You’ll just have to trust me, Torfen.”

Trust was a hard commodity to come by. I didn’t know Magnus from Agnes. Grim Kollbjorn had been my rival for over a year. Arne was a traitor, I was certain.

These were the three men vying for Ravinica’s love?

Sorry lot, these bastards.

Magnus had left Arne’s longhouse, but not before nudging his chin over my shoulder at Arne, and saying, “Consider slamming his thumbs with the hilt of your sword to break the bones. Will make it difficult to Shape. What worse fate for a runeshaper than that?”

And here I thought they’d been friends. As he ominously vacated the room, I muttered, “Damn psychopath,” and started giving Arne a good old-fashioned beating.

It’s not the worst idea,I thought ten minutes in.

Arne was looking worse for wear, yet he hadn’t screamed once. When he started spitting up blood, I knew I had done as much damage to him on the outside as I could, because his insides were starting to get mushy.

“Let’s take the topic away from Ravinica,” I said, shaking my head. I twisted and bent my fingers to give Arne a visual of what he had to look forward to. “Who have you been seeing every other morning for the past three weeks, iceshaper?”

Arne’s body tightened—from slumping to rigid in his chair.

I smiled. “That’s right. I’ve been following you. Is it any surprise?”

“Guess not,” Arne grumbled.

“You going to tell me then, or should I take Magnus’ advice and break your fingers?”

He looked up, scowling. “You’re not a very personable person, Sven Torfen. Anyone ever told you that?”

“Every day.”

“A wonder everyone hates you,” he said sarcastically.

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