Page 22 of Blood of Ancients

“Insufferable.”

“I’m right here, you know,” Sven mumbled. He glared daggers at Dagny. “You would punt an injured dog to the streets?”

“Streets? More like upstairs in the blizzard.”

Sven scoffed. “Not very hospitable for a hospital worker.”

“My field of fucks has gone barren, Torfen,” Dagny announced with her hands going to her hips.

Arne and Grim chuckled as Sven let out an aggrieved sound. I quirked a smile, looking back slyly at the wolf shifter, remembering our hotter-than-sin tryst earlier today. I supposed we’d have to put the back-breaking sex on hold for a while.

“You seem in good spirits, at least,” I said. “Considering how you look.”

Another scoff, this one just as aggrieved and snooty as the ones before it. He was being sarcastic, but the line between sarcasm and seriousness was thin with Sven Torfen.

He didn’t give a shit about being pampered. He just liked to make a show of being disparaged, because he loved the attention, even if he’d never admit it.

A thread of silence fell over the small recovery room. Behind us, in the halls, other nurse-acolytes roamed from room to room under Eir Wing.

“Are you going to tell us what happened, or are you just going to sit there looking pouty all night?” I asked.

Sven’s pout firmed, lips turning into thin lines. He dashed his gaze away from me. “I’d rather not.”

“Don’t be a baby. I promise we won’t laugh.”

Arne raised a finger. “I make no such promise.”

“I second that motion,” Grim added.

Magnus remained quiet, studying everyone, likely wondering how we could be lighthearted at a time like this.

In truth, I was feeding off Sven. I had come in like a tornado, demanding answers, and he played his wounds off like it wasjust another Sunday. But Ididcare. Greatly. And I worried why he was being so hesitant to tell us the gritty details.

Shame,I thought.That must be it. His pride and dignity can’t handle us seeing him like this—not in control, not in a leadership position. He’s playing it off with fake anguish and indignity.

“Speak, shifter,” Magnus demanded.

Sven’s dark eyes narrowed on the scarred bloodrender.

He got to talking a moment later, after another exaggerated sigh. “My kinsfolk jumped me.”

My eyes bulged. “Yourkinsfolk?”

I could hardly believe it. I needed him to say it again.

He grew frustrated, arms wheeling, wincing from the movement. “Yes, little menace. My pack. My brothers and sister. They ambushed me. Well, they finished the job.”

“What job?” Grim asked.

“Members of the Lanfen pack ambushed me on my way to Hersir Osfen. They corralled me to my pack den, where I went looking for allies to help fight them. Instead, Edda, Olaf, and Ulf mobbed me. The fucking cowards.” He snarled the last bit.

I hadn’t heard him mention the Lanfen pack my entire first term. I was shocked. “Why?” I yelled, throwing my arms up. “You’ve always gotten along with your family!”

“It was . . . a demand from on high. From my father.”

My nostrils flared, anger rifling through me. “Thatbastard.”

He glanced away at my anger, staring down at his feet poking out the end of his bed sheet. It didn’t dawn on me that he was glancing away because he was hiding something, but Magnus caught it.

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