Page 34 of Blood of Ancients

“My issue with you?” Ingvus’ voice was a snarl. A rustling sound told me he’d gone to his feet behind his desk, and athudmade me jump as he slammed a hand down. “You’re a killer, Kollbjorn. I don’t trust you.”

“Hersir . . .”

“You killed a student your first year and weaseled your way out of punishment.” Ingvus’ voice carried now, echoing off the walls so passing students could hear.

I leaned back, eyebrows rising as he continued.

“You did the same your second term—”

“I was exonerated for those crimes against Astrid and Corta. You know that. Sir.”

Grim’s stoic nature was fraying at the edges of his voice. I could sense his anger growing, bonded to him like I was.

Hersir Jorthyr was tall, yet not as tall as Grim Kollbjorn. He was broad, yet not as broad as my mountain of a man. He was imposing, but Grim . . . Ingvus didn’t know what he was getting himself into.

“Exoneration doesn’t escape you from guilt, Kollbjorn! Am I the only one who remembers you escaped imprisonment, yet again?Beforeyou were exonerated?”

Grim stayed silent, taking the barrage.

I worried my lip with my teeth, picking at my nails, fearful for Grim’s future anywhere near this man who clearly hated him and was out for some perceived injustice. Vengeance.

I understood it now. The job of the Warden was to jail “problem students” and keep the peace at the academy. Grim had, unfortunately, been in the middle of quite a few situations involving possible crimes, and certainly deaths. In Ingvus’ eyes, he had “gotten away with it” up until now, slipping past the jailer’s watchful eye.

He confirmed it with his next scalding words.

“Are you a bear or a cat, boy? Because you seem to have nine fucking lives.” Ingvus’ voice cut through like a knife, seething, lowering from a shout as I imagined him drawing closer to Grim’s chest. “And I’ll steal every fuckingoneof them if I have to, so long as you meet justice.”

I inhaled sharply, stepping back from the perch where I listened against the wall.Fuck. More enemies. And a powerful one, this time. The “steward”—the damned Warden of Vikingrune.

Hersir Jorthyr growled. “You don’t belong outside of a cage, boy. I’ll make sure you understand that by the time I’m through with you.”

Chapter 11

Grim

I KEPT MY COMPOSUREwhile Hersir Jorthyr berated me.

By the time he was finished, he was nearly foaming at the mouth. The rage in his eyes matched my own when I was in a berserk frenzy.

The older man tried to stand toe-to-toe with me, with only a desk separating us. He was goading me, trying to get me to lash out—to add another mark against me, and prove his point that I was some sort of criminal.

I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

There was no denying I was misunderstood at Vikingrune Academy. When students learned I had two fathers, neither of them biological, they often looked askance at me. As if gay men raising a boy in the woods was the weird part, and not the fact I could turn into a fucking bear and rip people limb from limb.

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