Page 39 of Blood of Ancients

With a chuckle, we headed into the cafeteria.

Grim said in a low voice, “I’ll be close.”

“I know, love. You always are.” I shoulder-checked him, but it was me who moved, not him—the damned wall of muscle that he was.

Things had been looking so good, too. Me and Grim, locked in a tender embrace as I consoled him over the tragic story he’d told me. I loved finding out new things from my mates. Learning how they arrived at Vikingrune just added to their fascinating lore.

I’d heard his and Arne’s tales. I just had a couple more to run down. But first, this.

Andthiswas not what I wanted to see.

Damon had made friends in the three weeks leading up to his first term at the academy. He was here early—a full year had not even passed since theWraithswent out to round up the newest group of initiates.

Our recent losses—Astrid, Corta, the countless Huscarls, caused by me and my men, mostly—had put Gothi Sigmund in a desperate situation to bring on more recruits.

We were fodder to the academy. Damon just didn’t know it yet. Here he was, sitting at a table with two sniveling initiates I didn’t recognize, and four people I did.

My older brother, Eirik, was one of them. He wassmilingat something Damon had just said, clapping him on the back from his rousing tale.

Everyone was smiling at the table, in fact, while Damon’s hands gesticulated with the force of his story, speaking past a mouthful of bread. Without a care in the world.

I didn’t mind seeing Eirik and Damon together. They were full-blooded brothers, after all. No, it was theexpressionon Eirik’s face that made me bristle, and my heart tug. The casual way he conversed with Damon like he was the most important man at the table. Like they were best friends.

My elder brother hadnevershown me that side of him my entire initiate term. Eirik had brought me to the Warden as his first order of business. There, I’d been promptly threatened with exile, before orientation had even started.

Then my half-brother tossed me to the wolves—quite literally, as he was nowhere to be seen when Sven and his pack first attacked me. It had beenGrim, a stranger, who saved my ass.

Ever since Astrid and Corta’s deaths, and my part in them—however indirect—Eirik had become even more distant. It was like someone had told him to stay away from me, because I couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t be looking out for his little sister at this cutthroat academy.

I had looked up to him as a younger girl. As kids, he had been my hero. Hel below, Eirik talked as much shit about Damon as I did! And now this? Paling around with him over pancakes and bacon?

It hurt. It hurt to see, it hurt to relive, and now the anger bubbling up inside me mingled with sadness and resentment.

It took everything I had to keep my temper down as I approached the table, Grim setting up shop a few feet behind me at a smaller one.

The other people besides Damon’s trio and Eirik were Eirik’s part-time lovers and full-time groupies, Ayla, Gryphon, and Tyrus. There was a single empty spot at the longtable, with a tray of steaming flapjacks, bacon, and eggs waiting for me, as well as a clear glass of orange juice.

My stomach growled in protest as I hesitantly sat down, eyeing the whole table. When my eyes made it to the orange juice, I raised a brow. “OJ? Haven’t seen this here in months.”

Orange trees wouldn’t survive in this current climate.

“I got it specially imported,” Damon said, bobbing his eyebrows like it was a well-kept secret. He cracked his knuckles, smiling. “I still have my connections, you know.”

“Sister!” Eirik cried out as I settled in next to him. He was finishing his laughter from Damon’s story, rubbing his eyes,and when I sat next to him, he clapped my shoulder. “How has hibernation been for you?”

I shrugged.

Damon sat opposite me, his eyes never leaving my face.

Say nothing for Damon Halldan, but hewasa talker. He had a way with people, charismatic, as evidenced by the two initiate friends sitting next to him.

They weren’t friends from Selby Village, because only one initiate per village was chosen each round. Which meant he had befriended them in the short time he’d been here.

One of them was a skinny fellow with a bald head and big bug-eyes. The other was a strong-looking lass with shoulders wider than mine—which was saying something—and a glint in her eye every time she looked over at my brother, who was smaller than her.

Damon caught me glancing at them. He gestured to his left, at the bald boy, who looked around eighteen. “This is Talmont Perridan, from Hesther Village. You know Hesther, right? Just up the road from Selby.”

I blinked.Interesting he’s made a friend here from a neighboring village.I felt there was more to the story of their friendship. I also wouldn’t underestimate Talmont, despite his size, because it took grit to make it to Vikingrune Academy.That, or funding from a rich family . . .

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