Page 58 of The Serpent’s Shadow

I slammed my fist into his face, sending him stumbling to his ass.

Grim, Sven, and Magnus lost their focus on the light elf, watching me.

“He took me because of you,” I growled at the wounded face of Arne, adding a new bruise to his sharp jawline. “I don’t want to hear a damn word from you abouttaking. Do you understand me, iceshaper?”

My tone was as cold as his magic. I had no love for this man, and wanted to hate him with every fiber of my being, even if my accursed heart was making that difficult.

Swallowing hard from the ground, staring up at my face backlit by the moon, Arne nodded once. “I understand,” he answered glumly, dipping his chin.

I spun around and thrust a finger at the other three. I couldn’t scold them too harshly, seeing as how they’d just saved my life and everything. But I’d be damned if I was going to let them slaughter the man who had sacrificed his own people to help me.

“That elf—that man—is named Corym E’tar. He is the leader of the Ljosalfar vanguard,” I said. “He saved my life from the Huscarls well before you all showed up.” I threw my arms out wide, letting everyone get a good look at my body. “Do I look wounded? Harmed? Corym treated me with respect while I was a captive at his camp.”

“Why did he take you?” Grim spit through gritted teeth. His eyes had returned to their amber hue as he tried to control his unbridled rage.

“Because he saw the ears of someone like him—an elf, or something close to it—being dragged away as a prisoner to the academy.”

The field fell silent. The stench of death and blood hung thick in the calm air.

“Ask yourselves this: Why would he go to such lengths to help me, if he meant to hurt me?” I crossed my arms over my heaving chest, trying to catch my breath while I attempted to control the situation. “He could have killed me along with the Huscarls. If he found me useful, he could’ve taken all the knowledge I have and killed me right after. But he didn’t. Instead, he didthis.”

I lifted my palm, called to the inherent magic swelling inside, and Shaped a rune in the air. My fingers lit up like a blazing inferno, fingertips orange-red.

Grim gasped. “Your magic. It’s alive.”

I nodded sharply. “Because of him.” My radiant finger pointed at the elf past him, before it simmered to its normal pale hue. “I don’t know the correlation yet. But he has something to do with it. I won’t let you kill my savior, even if he was my captor. Stand. Down.”

Grim’s shoulders sank. The fight went out of him in an instant, confusion taking over on his flat, bearded face. Sven and Magnus exchanged narrow-eyed looks before moving away from the elf. They both tossed him one last glance—the same look of disdain I was so used to seeing from people who hated bog-bloods, which was practically everyone.

I said, “The elves are not our enemies, boys. The traitor behind me took me to an ancient half-elf named Elayina. She showed me something . . . something I still can’t understand. Stories, or memories, she said. We can talk about all that later.Bottom line, Vikingrune Academy has beenlyingto us. For generations!”

The three men in front of me exchanged more confused looks. Behind, Arne groaned when I called him a traitor.

He deserved it and so, so much more. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with him. Even if I couldn’t hate him for some stupid reason, I wouldn’t let him near me until I learned more about why he did what he did.

I had trusted Arne with my heart, mylife, and he’d tossed it aside like it was nothing.

Never again.

“All the redacted texts in Mimir Tomes,” Magnus said, “the inaccessibility to certain books.” He shrugged. “I’m not surprised if the academy pulled the wool over our eyes.”

The bloodrender was the first to come to terms with the truth I was sharing. It was an awful truth that changed everything, and I recognized the same upended expressions on everyone’s faces I’d felt when Elayina first showed me.

If anything, the men were even more resistant.

Sven looked the most struck by the news. I read the dozens of questions on his lips—questions he wasn’t asking because of our immediate situation.

As the leader of an age-old shifter pack, the Torfen son had grown up with a specific story told to him, fed to him by his father, grandfather, and everyone else in his family line. To learn it was all built on lies must have shattered the man’s world, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

I owed nothing to him. He had bullied me, harassed me, and been one of the biggest headaches during my stay at the academy.

I repeated my question from earlier, which he hadn’t answered: “Why are you here, Sven Torfen? Grim and Magnus, I understand. But you?”

“It’s a long story,” he muttered, rubbing his neck.

I put my hands on my hips. “You’d better be ready to tell it next time I ask.”

Sven’s perpetual frown flipped into an amused smirk. It was sinfully attractive, and I hated how it heated my blood. “As you command, little menace.”

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