Page 82 of Blood of Ancients

“I only come with a warning.” Before Kelvar could bite back, Ingvus put a hand on his own chest, feigning innocence. “Not a warning or threat from me. Don’t worry.”

“What is it?” the Whisperer snarled through gritted teeth.

I was surprised by the animosity he showed his brethren Hersir. I had always thought Kelvar, Ingvus, and all the rest of the faculty were in cahoots—a secret club of authority where they laughed at the expense of us foolish students. I had always thought Kelvar was theworstoffender of the bunch, and surely the most terrifying, despite his stature.

Now, I was seeing a new side to this house of cards. New rivalries, perhaps, between the Hersirs themselves. It was interesting, being in the middle of it, deathly quiet as we listened to these two leaders of the academy square off in a tense battle of wills.

Not all was well in paradise, apparently.

“Dahlia will not be happy about this,” Ingvus said. “She already believes you stole the bloodrender from her, when she was on the cusp of discovery. Now this? Using an elf forwhatever diabolical schemes you have cooking? She’ll take it as a personal affront.”

Kelvar scoffed. “Why do you believe I give a single shit what the Tomekeeper is angry about? As you said yourself: I’m only doing the will of the Gothi. She can bring up her complaints to our wise and illustrious chieftain.”

Is that . . . backhanded mocking I’m hearing from the Whisperer, about his own leader? Surely I must be hearing things, or looking too deeply into his tone and choice of words.

Kelvar was a man of many surprises.

“Nonetheless,” Ingvus said, stepping past Kelvar to move toward me and Corym. “She will not be happy, and I daresay you’ve committed the cardinal sin of underestimating her in this situation, Kelvar.”

Still kneeling, hand on Corym’s sunken face, I seethed at Hersir Jorthyr, narrowing my eyes dangerously on him.

He stared down his hawkish nose at me, smiling slightly. “The bog-blood, like a dog, ready to pounce to her owner’s defense.”

I stood tall, rage settling inside me. Behind Ingvus, my mates made a step toward him, and I gave them a slight shake of my head. I squared my shoulders to defend myself and Corym, but it was the elf who spoke from behind me into the quiet room.

“You have it wrong, Warden,” Corym said in his ragged voice, lifting his head. “I’m the hound. She owns the leash. No amount of violence or depravity will ever break me from her side.” Finishing, he spit a bloody glob off to his side and smiled wickedly at the Warden.

A flash of fury wrinkled Ingvus’ face. It was gone in an instant, his straight-backed composure returning before he could give away the depths of his rage at being called useless.

Before he could scoff and leave us, Kelvar blocked his path on the way out. Lifting his sharp chin, staring those dark poolsfor eyes into Ingvus’ face, he said, “Here’s what I think, dear Warden. I think you’re sad to be losing your little toy, so you’re lashing out. You want someone to play with, to feel important and drown out your intense feelings of inadequacy.”

I stopped breathing, a cloud of tension filled the room. My mates were gobsmacked into silence, whites showing in everyone’s widened eyes.

“Isthatwhat you think?” Ingvus gritted out.

The Whisperer nodded. “No mindshaping required.” Then, shockingly, he stepped aside to let Ingvus pass andshooedhis hand toward the door. “You let me deal with Tomekeeper Dahlia. You . . . go have fun building your little boats, while I try to accomplish something of import to the academy we both hold dear.”

An hour later, we had gathered our things and were ready for the perilous trek ahead. None of us knew what awaited us on the other side of Vikingrune Academy’s walls.

This was new grounds for everyone—even Hersir Kelvar. Mysterious enemies and predators on the Isle had not been seen by Vikingrune Academy for centuries.

I still didn’tlikethe Whisperer, because he scared the jeebies out of me . . . butgodshad it been satisfying to hear him get the last laugh with Hersir Jorthyr before dismissing him so insultingly.

The look of pure loathing that had settled on Ingvus’ brow and twitched his jaw made me think he’d been ready to challenge Kelvar toholmgangright then and there.

Of course, the Warden was too esteemed for that. He hadn’t stooped any lower, leaving with his tail between his legs and his “torture toy” taken from his greedy clutches.

Corym took the longest to gather his things together, despite having the least to bring. He had only shown up with the clothes on his back and his curved elven blade and side-dagger, yet it took us a while to find those weapons from Hersir Osfen in the armory, where they’d been stashed.

“A fine blade, this one,” Osfen said about the sword, handing it to Hersir Kelvar. “Shame to be losing it before studies could be completed.”

“Studies, Axel?” Kelvar asked, taking the sword, scabbard, and dagger.

“Its silvered blade is imbued with runic magic. So is the dagger.”

I had seen both of those wicked blades in action, so I knew Axel spoke the truth. I’d never seen magic from the sword, but I’d seen the dagger light up like the sun when he handed it to me to kill Arne with.

“Perhaps you will find them in your hands again some day,” Kelvar said.

---