Page 38 of Blood of Ancients

“Refuge and solitude only made me more feral. It wasn’t sustainable. Eventually I left the woodland sanctuary I’d surrounded myself in, once I was years removed from the humans. I ran far from my past, joining a village of strangers who knew nothing of my . . . sordid history. I was tall and broad, even as a cub. A hard worker. They couldn’t turn that away. And eventually, after a few years, theWraithsarrived on our shore like they did for everyone else. I was chosen by my village to represent us.”

I hadn’t strung that many words together in a row in years—likelysincethat fateful, fiery day in the woods, before my fathers had been brutally killed.

My rage made me silent and stoic.

Ravinica brought light out of me. Without needing to try, she led me away from my sorrows and filled me with hope, vigor, and words of kindness.

She was the perfect foil for the vindictive rhetoric of Hersir Ingvus. Stealing his hate and replacing it with love.

“It’s a story of resilience, Grim,” she said at last, squeezing my hand tighter. Her voice was soft. “A story I’m proud to join, so we can continue building it together.”

I smiled at her then. Genuine, loving, adoring.

Then a sniveling whelp had to pop out of the cafeteria we stood in front of, open his mouth, and ruin everything.

Damon Halldan was suddenly in front of us, sneering. “Well met, sister.”

Our faces, lips so close before, veered to the grating sound of his voice.

“Damon,” Ravinica said darkly. Her mood soured as quickly as mine.

Her younger half-brother raised both hands, palms up in apparent surrender. “Please, sister, I beseech thee. Break bread with me.” His eyes twinkled roguishly. “So we can try to get past this . . . bad blood.”

Chapter 12

Ravinica

CUTE, DAMON. REAL CUTE. “Bad blood.” Like your little overturned-bucket-full-of-blood trick.The sarcasm in my thoughts was steep.

As Damon waltzed into the dining hall, he said over his shoulder, “I’ve already set a place for you at the table.”

I was intensely suspicious. My blood boiled, until Grim put a calming hand on my arm.

“I don’t think this is smart, sneak.”

I glared at him, though my anger wasn’t meant for him. “I know it’s not. But I have to dosomething.”

“Sven had an idea what that something could be . . .”

“What, murder him in his sleep? He’s still my half-brother, Grim.” I smiled sadly at my tall protector. “I’d rather try to mend our bad relations than let them fester.”

“You think he’s being honest here?”

“Probably not.”

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