Page 3 of The Serpent’s Shadow

Chapter 2

Arne

“YOU ARE STILL RESISTANT, I see. I’m disappointed, iceshaper.”

Coming from the shadows in front of me, the man’s voice was like velvet caressing my ears. Slightly raspy, quiet, and absolutely controlled.

I pursed my lips, trying to stave off the invasion. Over the past two weeks, I had been sullen. Worse than that, I felt awful for what I’d done.

I had stabbed the one woman in the back who I thought could save me. My soul was damned because of what I’d done to Ravinica Linmyrr. The girl who abruptly kissed me in the mess hall after I helped her uncover her own history and secrets. The woman I demanded the same from later, as repayment.

Andgodsdid I want her lips on mine again.

I knew it would never happen now. Not after what I’d done. And for that—for being a sniveling rat—I deserved all the animosity she directed my way.

All I could do now was hope she was still alive, housed with the treacherous elves. Pray I could somehow convince her to forgive me, once she understood why I’d done it.

Now, I was a rat again, confined to a cage. Not a literal cage—my captor put no bars around me. I simply sat on a stool, as I had every other day for the past two weeks, with my hands and legs unbound.

Technically, theoretically, I could have stood and walked out of the stuffy, shadowy office if I chose to.

I knew that was no real solution. It would only make everything I’d done useless, pointless, and damn the people I hoped to help.

My mental captor emerged from the shadowy corner and stepped in front of me, arms lank at his sides. He was not a tall man: thin like me, gaunt in the face, and pale. Yet what he lacked in size, he made up for in intensity . . . and curse Odin if he wasn’t the most intimidating man at this academy.

His straight long hair that went to the small of his back showed his age more than his face, with fair roots and graying strands.

“I’ve told you everything I know already, Whisperer,” I said. “What more do you want?”

Hersir Kelvar the Whisperer let out a noncommittal sound, somewhere between a grunt and a scoff. “Tell it to me again, boy. You have much to account for. Pieces are still missing. Many men died on your watch, and I want to know how it is you survived such an ordeal.”

Anordeal?Is that what he thinks happened out there in Delaveer Forest, on the fringes of the Niflbog? A fuckingordeal?

I flared my nostrils and kept my mouth shut.

There was no point.

Kelvar crouched so he was eye-level with me. His silver-flecked orbs scared me. They were similar to Magnus Feldraug’s lifeless eyes, oddly enough.

It was never a comfortable meeting when you sat in the Whisperer’s chair.

“You were given a job, cadet, and you accomplished it,” he said simply. “Though it came with great loss. Loss that needs to be explained. So . . . Tell. Me. Again.”

When his words cut off, I shook my head.

“You have nothing to fear from me.”

I believed him. A shudder swept through me, bringing me back to that bloody, grassy creek, and how the golden-clad elves fought ruthlessly, mercilessly, and killed all the Huscarls around me.

I was filled with loathing for the elvish invaders.

Abruptly, my thoughts turned . . . heroic. I knew that by spilling my guts to Kelvar, I would be helping everyone I sought to help. There was no other way out of this. If I wanted Ravinica to live, and for my people to survive, Kelvar needed to know what I knew, so he could relay my intel to his higher-ups.

“Ravinica spoke with Lady Elayina,” I said, blinking.

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