Page 156 of Blood of Ancients

Chapter 43

Ravinica

IT TOOK A MOMENT FORme to realize weight had lifted from my shoulders. Literally. I glanced back and saw my wings were gone. Where they’d gone, I had no clue. The skin they’d sprouted from was not scarred or bloody—it remained pale, unblemished, though the clothes I wore had ripped where the wings had been.

Noticing where my eyes went, and the confused pout on my face, Grim said, “The wings vanished a moment before you opened your eyes, love.”

“I take it they’re not lost forever?” Sven wondered.

I shook my head. “No. I don’t think so. I can feel them inside me now, in my spirit. It’s hard to explain.”

What I recognized I could enter the wintry landscape of my mind whenever I wanted now. That narrow valley passage between the mountains—it was the anchor I needed to pull at my magic and summon my wings.

As usual, Elayina had been right. I simply needed to focus, listen to my body, and I would know how to use them when I needed them.

Arne said, “The wings aren’t gone forver, but Elayina is, isn’t she?”

His voice was forlorn, eyes stuck on Elayina’s peaceful, resting body. I could tell he was not only thinking of the AncientOne in that moment, but had another recent wound he needed to grieve.

Arne hadn’t had a chance to mourn Frida’s death, because we’d kept his mind from it with our extraplanar travel and raucous sex and Elayina.

All five of us could tell, with simple expressions on our faces, that our time in Alfheim was nearing its end.

I had not finished what I set out to do—unifying the Ljosalfar and humans. It would be a lengthy process, I knew, and one that could take months, years. Rivalries and loathing did not simply wash away overnight, no matter how powerful I had become.

“Interesting,” Grim said, pulling at his beard, “Elayina was the only elf here to know you are dragonkin, little sneak.”

My brow furrowed, trying to understand his point. I was still lost in a hazy dreamlike feeling after my jouney with Elayina. I had seen agoddessfor fuck’s sake—an actual, flesh-and-blood deity and spirit. The warrioress my people prayed to and had worshipped for centuries.

It was not lost on me how special and important that had been. I wished I could have taken my mates with me on that quest through the sky.

Sven picked up Grim’s meaning and grunted. “It means we can leave without raising a ruckus. Since no one else here knows the truth of you.”

Corym wiped tears from his eyes and took a deep breath. “True, wolf, and wise. Sadly, I fear we have lost our voucher with the loss of theAnvari. I cannot say with any certainty I trust the rest of my people in Heira. Not now—not with Ravinica with us.”

“I’m still wearing the pretty dress,” I pointed out, then pouted as I looked over my shoulder again. “A bit in tatters in spots, but still.”

Corym draped an arm over my shoulder, holding me close. “My brethrendidlook at you differently in that garb, didn’tthey?” He let out a hum. “Then perhaps we haven’t overstayed our welcome after all.”

“No, I think we have,” Grim muttered. “I feel it.”

As much as I would have liked to stay in Alfheim for weeks, to get accustomed to its beauty, learn the customs and culture of this elven nation, lose myself . . . it wasn’t possible.

It wouldn’t be honoring Elayina’s memory. It would be wasting it.

“We need to return to Vikingrune Academy,” I said with a heavy sigh. “There are things afoot in the Isle we can’t turn our backs on. Dokkalfar running amok, conspiracies in the academy.”

“We return, then,” Sven said with a firm nod. “But we return as champions, not scared whelps worried about rocking the longship.”

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