Page 1 of The Last Valkyrie (Vikingrune Academy #4)

Chapter 1

Ravinica

THE CHANGING OF THE season from winter to spring brought more than crisp weather and new life to the Isle. It also brought the promise of war.

Vikingrune Academy returned to the surface, away from the stuffed tunnels and underground city that spider-webbed beneath the mountainside.

That was the good news. The bad news was the part about impending war. A lot had happened here since our excursion to Alfheim and Lady Elayina’s final farewell.

I had no doubt the dark elves we allowed to linger in Midgard while we rescued Elayina from her tree-cave had a hand in this, whatever this was.

Jotnar? Giants? Here ?

The thought was unfathomable. It meant more portals had been opened from other realms. Everyone was getting in on the action—Dokkalfar, Ljosalfar, jotnar. Who was next? What other species wanted to come destroy the human realm of Midgard?

The jotnar were monsters of myth and legend. I never expected them to be real, even though my Realms & Races class with Hersir Thorvi Kardeen had told me all about them.

The term “jotun,” or plural “jotnar,” translated to “giant,” but the term was misleading, according to Thorvi. The translation from Old Norse was more akin to “enemy,” and not all of them were huge, towering monsters. Allegedly.

That information didn’t make me feel any better. Whatever was causing the frequent earthquakes around the Isle surely seemed enormous. I mean, you’d have to be to cause tremors across the vast island, no?

Gothi Sigmund told us during our debriefing that scouts had been sent throughout the Isle, and the location of the jotnar had been pinpointed. He would say no more about it until the upcoming academy-wide assembly he was holding tonight in Dorymir Hall.

It was the day after our return from Alfheim. My mates and I had gotten no respite from the turmoil encompassing our lives these days. I couldn’t stop biting my nails, pacing around the small longhouse I’d been given as my second-year dwelling, thinking about what this all meant.

As I paced around the main room, my five men sat around in various states: Sven Torfen perched against the front door frame. Grim Kollbjorn loomed near the back of the hovel with his arms crossed. Arne Gornhodr sat on the bed drumming his knees. Magnus Feldraug gazed listlessly at the ceiling from his back on the floor. Corym E’tar stared at me from a side wall.

The place was packed, stuffy, and I was losing my shit. All I wanted to do was return from Alfheim in peace, learn about my new dragonkin heritage and abilities, and fuck my mates until I couldn’t think straight. Was that so much to ask?

Alas, the fates had different plans for me, as always.

“We need to figure this out,” I said to the guys, tightening my fur coat around my body. I wasn’t even cold. I just needed something to do with my hands, so I ran them up and down the furry hems.

“Do we, silvermoon?” Magnus asked from the floor. When I gave him an incredulous look, he shrugged and made the dirt equivalent of a snow angel.

I tossed my arms up. “Of course we do!”

“I’m with the bloodrender, honestly,” Sven mumbled. “Why does it matter how the giants got here? They’re here. They need to be stopped before they stomp all over us. It’s that simple.”

“What about the dark elves?” I narrowed my gaze on the handsome wolf shifter. “Don’t you think the Dokkalfar played a part in this?”

At mention of the dark cousins to my light elf lover, Corym said, “They’re cunning, lunis’ai , but we won’t know more until Gothi Sigmund’s assembly. We must be patient.”

I stopped pacing, spun to face him, and shook my head. “No can do. I have too much on my mind.”

“Kelvar’s not saying shit either, eh Mag?” Arne asked.

Magnus shook his head from the floor. “Dad’s being a pain in the ass. Just when we need him most, he vanishes like . . . well, a whisper.”

Sven chuckled darkly. “That pain in the ass saved your life, ungrateful ass.”

I made a face. Hearing Magnus call the Whisperer ‘Dad’ made my stomach queasy. I flapped my hand at them before they could get started with their jawing. “The dark elves show up, wreak havoc, we leave, and then suddenly the jotnar are here once we return. You think that’s a coincidence?”

“Of course not,” Corym said. “They likely made a move. Maybe they led the jotnar here. Like I said—”

“We can’t know until Sigmund wants to tell us. Yeah, yeah, I know.” I stamped my foot, flaring my nostrils in frustration. Stuffing my hands in the pockets of my coat, I felt the folded letter scratch against my palm. “I hate being on the Gothi’s schedule.”

Behind me, Grim spoke in his deep, resonant voice. “Like you said, little sneak, you have too much on your mind. Perhaps you should be focusing on . . . the other thing?”

Yes. The other thing. I gave my huge protector a look, my eyebrows arching helplessly. Ma.

When we’d arrived for our debriefing with Gothi Sigmund, he had handed me a letter from my mother, Lindi Foradeen, all the way from Selby Village. The contents concerned me greatly, and that was another weight on my shoulders.

Because the letter said my mom was sick, and my presence was requested at Selby Village.

When I brought it up to Sigmund, he said I couldn’t leave the Isle until the threat against our species was dealt with. I understood that—all hands on deck and all that. But this was family , and the letter was decidedly sparse on details regarding what ailed my mother.

Is she simply sick, or, like, sick sick and dying? She wouldn’t take the time and energy to send a message all the way here if she simply had the sniffles.

In some ways, this banter about jotnar and war was keeping my brain occupied. There was darkness just underneath the surface of it, gnawing at my belly, worrying me. I didn’t want to go down a rabbit hole about my mom. I was in the dark about her, just like I was about the giants. It was driving me crazy, because I was something of a control freak, as my mates had come to learn.

I needed answers . Not lollygagging and waiting for Sigmund Calladan to come up with an appropriate strategy against the jotnar.

Wheeling around to begin pacing again, I ignored Grim’s suggestion about focusing on my letter. “What if they come in peace?”

A unified sound of bafflement filled the room.

“Um, excuse me?” Magnus asked from the floor. “What if the . . . terrible, awful, world-eating jotnar come in peace ?”

I put my hands on my hips, striking a pose to make it look like I was confident in my own stupid notion. “That’s what I said. What if the giants are here to, I dunno, parley?”

Corym said, “From what I know, lass, jotnar do not ‘parley.’ They murder and rampage.”

“Have you ever fought them?”

He bowed his head, hugging his folded arms against his chest as he backed up against the wall and made himself smaller. “Well, no . . .”

“Then you can’t know for sure.”

“We’re not going to find out, either,” Sven spat. “Walking up to them and asking if they want to negotiate and trade butter is about the most idiotic thing I’ve ever heard of.”

I scowled at him. “Jeez, thanks, asshole.”

He smiled at my anger. “We know what you’re doing, Rav. You’re trying to piece a puzzle together with bits and bobs that don’t fit. Trying to get us riled up so we’ll say, ‘Hel yes, love, let’s get out there and talk to some giants!’”

The corner of my lip curled. “Is it working?”

The boys chuckled.

Sven was right, of course. I didn’t actually believe the giants were peaceful. Why would they come all the way to Midgard just to coexist with us, when all the history books told of their violence, their penchant for pillaging and ruining worlds?

No, I needed to trust the Hersirs and Gothi Sigmund. I had to trust my mates, listen to them, and calm down so I could think straight. Because the future had tilted on its axis, and we had no idea what the Norns fated for us.

We were back in the game at Vikingrune Academy, thrust into a crisis that seemed like an existential threat to our race.

It was just a damned shame I had no tolerance for games these days. Not unless they were under the sheets with my boys, anyway.

That evening, the academy was in an uproar. The earthquakes and first sightings of the jotnar had come three days ago. It was a fresh predicament and no one knew how to act.

The high stone walls surrounding the summit of the school were closed off. The gates were barred. Huscarls manned every tower, looking out in every direction. Students ran around like crazy, ordered about by Hersirs and older peers who had a better understanding of military engagement.

The entire student body was funneled into Dorymir Hall as the sun set. It was a mandatory meeting. Any no-shows would be severely punished.

I could hardly eat, so I showed up an hour early. At least fifty other students had the same idea, and the place was a din of low chatter and muffled conversations. When we entered the stadium-style auditorium, which hung off the side of a steep hill and swooped down to the stage past four levels of crescent-shaped benches, I spotted Dagny and Randi on the top floor, near us.

I looked around at the pillars, the stage, the seats, the high windows behind us, letting in moonlight. To think, this was where everyone was first anointed as an initiate of the academy. And now we’re preparing for something unfathomable.

Dagny and Randi noticed me and rushed over. Their eyes were big in their heads, clearly worried.

After quick hugs, Dag tucked her black hair under her left ear and her white hair under her right ear.

Randi said, “Did you hear, Ravin?”

I blinked at her. “Hear what?”

“The jotnar are at the Telvos Mountains.”

The Telvos Mountains were at the northwestern peak of the Isle, in an area lush with nature and unmolested land. It was the highest point, even higher than Academy Hill. Much higher, actually. Every morning, on a crisp, cloudless dawn, I could see the dragonteeth peaks of those mountains on the horizon. They’d been topped with snow for months now.

My brow threaded with worry. “Who told you that?”

Randi looked sheepish, the whites of her eyes growing larger in her dark face. “Don’t get mad.”

I quirked a single brow.

“Ulf Torfen.”

Behind me, Sven scoffed and walked away. Ulf, his brother, was Public Enemy Number One, far as Sven was concerned. Or at least Top Three Public Enemy since his elder siblings Edda and Olaf were also on his shit-list.

Frowning at Randi, I gave her a disconcerted look.

“I said don’t get mad!” she squeaked.

“I didn’t say anything, Rand.”

She pointed. “You have a face on your face!”

I shook my head, trying to hide a smile. I didn’t want to invalidate Sven’s anger at his deceitful brethren, yet this didn’t seem like a good time for family squabbles. I had a feeling the entire academy would need to come together to fend off this newest threat. Rivals, friends, foes.

It was at that moment my eyes landed over Randi’s shoulder and I noticed my family and their respective buddies on the other side of the hall, a few levels down. My half-brothers Damon and Eirik, plus Talmont, Gertrude, Ayla, Gryphon, and Tyrus. They had a whole fucking crew now.

Scrunching my nose in disgust, I looked away from them. Yeah, never mind. Fuck all the come-together hippie mumbo jumbo. Sven has it right. Screw them.

I tried to lighten the tension on Randi’s face. “I thought you and Ulf weren’t a thing anymore?”

“We’re on-again off-again. Currently we’re on. I guess.”

She didn’t seem too sure about that. A dark, cunning thought came to me. Maybe Randi can get us intel about the Torfen pack we can’t get elsewhere. And the Lanfens, in that case, the rival pack that has bafflingly allied with the Tors in recent weeks.

Underneath the veneer of camaraderie and brotherhood that glittered at Vikingrune Academy, there was something darker afoot here. I was sure of it, and didn’t think my natural cynicism was off this time around.

As Sven had explained it, rival wolf packs didn’t simply shrug aside their grievances and becomes friends unless they had a huge incentive . . . or outside influence. He believed his father, Salos Torfen, a bigwig outside the academy, had something to do with the Torfens and Lanfens becoming buddy-buddy.

I wagered Sven was correct in his assumption.

My older brother Eirik allying and coming to Damon’s aid—after my younger brother had shown up here—was another worrying trend. This place is becoming mighty cliquey, mighty quickly. I don’t like it. People are hiding things from us.

Dagny shouldered me, snapping me out of my glare. “Move your eyes, Rav. You stare daggers any harder at your brothers, those daggers might become real.”

I snorted, blinking past a burn in my eyes. “I wouldn’t mind if they did.”

She gave me a sad smile. “You’re not an assassin anymore, remember?”

Hel, I never was to begin with. That part of me was an illusion. Dagny was, at heart, a peaceful scholar. She was a healer-in-training at Eir Wing, and clearly didn’t want to hurt anyone. So it pained her when she saw me at odds with my family.

I gave her a small smirk. “It’s never too late to reassess my career possibilities, Dag.” Alas, every family’s fucked up in some ways. The way mine works is that I can no longer trust either of my brothers. I wish it weren’t that way.

Grim put a hand on my elbow, nodding over my head to the stage down below. “Sigmund’s taking the stage. Come on, let’s get our seats. Anyone got some popcorn?”

I snickered. Dagny, Randi, and I followed my mates down the stairs to the lowest level seats, nearest the stage.

I wanted to be up close and personal when Gothi Sigmund started the assembly, so I could read between the lines and lies when he opened his deceitful lips.