by S. T. Bende
They had to be kidding. All of this for some guy?
I followed Jande’s rapt stare to the front of the Great Hall, where a tall boy with broad shoulders and wavy black hair stood framed in the doorway. He smoothed the front of his cream-colored blazer and sauntered into the room with unbridled arrogance.
I narrowed my eyes. “Are we sure that’s him? He looks pretty normal to me.”
“If by normal you mean drop-dead gorgeous, then I am right there with you.” Jande leaned forward to rest his jaw on his fingertips.
Oh, come on.
But Jande held the popular opinion—apparently, the presence of a male Key turned the student body into groupies. Key Boy strutted through the dining room, offering winks and waves as he moved. As he neared the Styra, their leader pulled out the empty chair—an action that yielded giggles and a fury of batted eyelashes. The boy shook his head and kept walking, intent on a course that was leading him straight to . . . us?
Wait. What? Is he staring at me?
By the time the boy was three tables away, my stomach churned with nerves. If he sat with us, my goal of staying under the radar would vanish faster than a plate of Signy’s Norsk waffles. Unless . . . maybe he was coming over because he had eyes for Jande. Yes! Key Boy was way too good looking to be straight, with his chiseled cheeks and strong jawline and emerald green eyes . . . not that I was into him. Because obviously, he played for the other team. Thank gods. Drama averted.
By the time the boy reached our four-top, I’d convinced myself that Jande’s green jade had worked its magic. Key Boy was his perfekt match just like Jande predicted, and they’d be off to their happily ever after in the time it could take me to—
“Mind if I squeeze in?” Key Boy pulled an extra chair from the empty table beside ours. He angled it between Jande’s seat and mine.
See? Totally right!
“You can squeeze anywhere you want.” Jande batted impossibly long eyelashes before moving his chair a few inches to the right.
“Thanks.” Key Boy slid the chair into place and dropped into it before unbuttoning his blazer. But instead of introducing himself or maybe offering an explanation as to why he’d chosen to sit with us instead of the table of now stewing Styra, he pinned me with an intense stare. My body went on lockdown as a light fluttering set off in my stomach, followed by a stronger fluttering at my back.
Oh, hell no. I did not have butterflies. Not because of Key Boy. And most definitely not in my back, of all places.
“So.” Jande angled himself toward the newcomer. “What’s your name?”
Finna’s waves fell over her shoulder as she leaned forward, and even Elin studied our guest with rapt curiosity. There was something interesting about him. Maybe it was the way his inky black hair formed pristine waves atop a perfectly sculpted face. Or the way his eyes twinkled in barely contained amusement. Or the—wait. What was I doing? Knock it off, Aura.
“Your name?” Jande prompted Key Boy again. “I’m Jande and this is Finna, Elin, and Aura.” He pointed to each of us in turn. “And you are . . .”
“I’m Viggo. Viggo Sorenssön.” Key Boy answered without breaking our eye contact. He leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms behind his head, and unleashed the full force of his smile directly on me. “Hei there, Glitre. I’ve been looking for you.”
Chapter 8
“WHAT DID YOU CALL me?” I folded my hands atop my lap.
“Glitre.” Viggo shrugged. “You sparkle.”
Shock unhinged my jaw, and I gaped at Elin. My best friend’s hand clamped tight against her mouth, possibly to quell waves of impending laughter. Did that kind of line actually work on whatever realm Viggo’d come from?
My lips pulled together in a tight line. “I do not sparkle, thank you very much.”
“You do.” Viggo winked. The dimple that popped with his smile was unnerving.
“You must be the last evacuee,” Elin finally chimed in. “What realm did they hide you on?”
“Svartalfheim.” Viggo fired the word at me.
It was rude, really. He should talk to everyone at the table.
“Svartalfheim?” Finna squeaked. “How long were you there?”
Viggo still didn’t break our eye contact. “Most of my life.”
“That’s impossible,” Finna argued. “The Council wouldn’t hide a light elf in a dark realm. It doesn’t matter who you are—that level of evil would turn even the purest heart dark.”
Viggo arched a brow. “Who said it didn’t?”
Jande shook his head. “Nope. You are wa-aay too good looking to be evil.”
“Thank you.” Viggo finally dragged his eyes from mine to study Jande. “Nice rings,” he offered, without a trace of irony.
Jande’s eyes lit up like the sky during a meteor shower. He clasped his hands over his heart. “Bless.”
“Back at you.” Viggo grinned before returning his attention to me. “I have to go, but I’ll definitely be seeing you again.”
Arrogant much?
I crossed my arms. “You didn’t say why you were looking for me.”
“That’s right. I didn’t.” Viggo put two fingers to his brow and gave a little salute. “See you around.”
With that he stood and sauntered out of the Great Hall. He paused at the exit to grab an aluminum-wrapped carton from the table labeled, “Takeaway Meals.” The Styra’s energetic daggers pierced my back for an endless beat, ebbing as excited chatter filled the vast space.
“What a jerk.” I turned back to Elin, Finna and Jande. “Why are you smiling?”
“Because.” Elin wore a grin that would have put a canary-eating cat to shame. “He’s totally into you.”
“He’s totally full of himself,” I countered.
“He said he liked my rings,” Jande pointed out.
“Jande, he’s into Aura. Not you. You’ll get the next one.” Finna patted her friend’s arm.
“The next one? This is the first Key Boy in two hundred years!” Jande dropped his head to his hands.
Wait. What?
“He has beautiful eyes.” Finna beamed. “And beautiful hair. Well done, Aura.”
I rolled my eyes. “Key Boys may be few and far between, but I guarantee that is not the guy for me.”
Elin raised one eyebrow. “You sure about that?”
“Absolutely.” I balled up my napkin and flung it on the table. My appetite vanished the minute Key Boy made his self-righteous retreat. “I’ll meet you guys back in the dorm.”
Jande looked me up and down with a long-suffering sigh. “Oh, fine. If he must be straight, I suppose you are an acceptable choice. Your legs are to die for.”
“I don’t want him!”
“Do you want us to leave with you?” Finna offered.
“No.” I shook my head. “But thanks. I’ll see you later.”
I hurried toward the exit. As I passed the Styra table a sharp voice pierced my focus. “I cannot fathom why he wanted to talk to a loser like Aura. Gods, she’s so pathetic.”
Skit.
I could have walked right by; pretended I hadn’t heard Britney. Signy would have advised doing exactly that. But Signy hadn’t spent every year of her life being tormented by someone who clearly had a rock where her heart should have been. The only way to shut Britney up was to fight back. Again.
I met Britney’s cold stare with equal parts ice and venom. “What did you say?”
A serpentine smile stretched across Britney’s crimson lips. “You heard me. Loser.”
The blonde at Britney’s table studied her with an appraising look. She was either impressed, or wondering when Bitch-Face would make a play for her rung on the social ladder.
“What’s the matter, Britney?” I crossed my arms. “Worried you’ll flunk out of here like you did Freshman math? And science?”
“Go away.” Britney flicked her fingers at me, as if shooing away a bug. “Run to the library, or your aunt, or whatever it is losers do on Friday night
s.”
I shrugged. “At least Signy cares about me. Your mom took off straight from the meadow—where’s she at, right now? Shacked up with another guy?”
Britney’s eyes bored into me with a hatred so intense, I wondered for the hundredth time what I’d done to earn her ire.
“You can move realms all you want, but nothing will change how pathetic you are.” Britney leaned back in her chair. “Go to Helheim, Aura.”
“Anywhere to get away from you.” I turned on one heel and stormed from the Great Hall, ignoring the glares stabbing my back. I’d hoped that being on another realm would mean Britney and I could stick to our own corners. But Viggo had shoved me right into the fire by taking away the one thing Britney prized above all else: attention.
I stomped the rest of the way to my room, wishing all the way that Alfheim would spit Britney straight back to Earth . . . and that I’d never see Viggo Sorensön again.
Back in the dorm, three cupcakes rested on my nightstand in a white box. The corners of my mouth tugged up as I opened the envelope beside the chocolaty treat. Signy. She’d written that the offering was only a modicum of the pastry-palooza she’d planned for my not-so-sweet sixteen, but things being what they’d were she’d had to improvise. And she promised to make it up to me.
I left the treats to share with my roommates tomorrow, changed into flannel pajamas, and buried myself in thick, downy layers of bedding. All I wanted was to slip into a dreamless oblivion. But my overwrought mind refused to slow, and instead of falling asleep I lay on my back, staring at the moonlight streaming through the eight-foot windows. It glinted off the crystals of the chandelier, forming an intricate pattern along the ceiling. Since I was too exhausted to get up and close the drapes, I stared at the light reflected on the fact that everything I’d ever known had disappeared in one explosively awful day.
Back home I’d known exactly how to spend my weekends, which hiking trails were poison oak-free, and which television channels ran Sunday superhero movie-marathons. But here, I knew nothing beyond the fact that my grandmother had stripped Alfheim of hope, her cabinet torched towns of dissenters, and there was a potentially evil faction of Britney clones running around my new school. I had no idea who I could trust; who would be an ally in standing up to the queen versus who would turn me in for dissention or out me as a princess.
Out me as a princess . . .
My fingertips worried the edge of my duvet, and I turned to my side and tucked my knees to my chest. I needed to stay under the radar long enough to prove I was nothing like the queen. But then what was I supposed to do? Challenge my grandmother to a duel? Debate her for the throne? If there was a way to remove her, surely someone would have done it by now. A blood heir must have been the only one who could. And since all of Alfheim believed no such heir existed . . .
But I don’t want to be Queen. I just want to be sixteen.
An incessant, rhythmic chirping pulled my attention to the window. Did Alfheim have crickets? Or cicadas? Or some weird alien insect I’d never heard of? Even with all the lessons back home, there was still so much I didn’t know about this place. What kinds of animals lived here? Were there birds, or butterflies, or bobcats like Bob . . .
Gods, I hoped Bob was okay. We’d Bifrosted out of Midgard so fast, I hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye. What if . . .
I squeezed my eyes shut. Bob was fine. I was fine. Everything was fine. Or it would be. Right after I fell asleep.
I squeezed my eyes shut and counted imaginary sheep. At some point, Elin and Finna tiptoed in, climbed into their beds, and fell into deep, rhythmic breathing. After an eternity, my own breath slowed. My fists unclenched as I slipped slowly away. But instead of blissful peace, my dreams were filled with the nightmarish acts of a faceless figure. The black-cloaked creature torched an unsuspecting town; herded protesters into a cell; and finally, scaled a mountain of smoldering carcasses to claim dominion over each of the nine realms. When the creature had destroyed every bit of light in the cosmos, bony figures pulled back its hood, and I woke with a gasp, cold sweat pouring down my back.
The creature beneath the hood was me.
Chapter 9
FINNA WALKED ME TO the Verge facility after breakfast. Her first class of the day, Elemental Formations, involved fieldwork in the forest behind the training center. Her department would meet afterward to brainstorm recovering the Sterkvart crystal, and she, Elin and I would hold a strategy session of our own after dinner. But first, I had a full day of classes—Verge in the morning, followed by Empati in the afternoon. My stomach was a knot of anticipation and it wasn’t even eight a.m.
Trial by fire wasn’t my forte.
Finna left me at the locker room door with a cheery wave before gliding down the corridor, her pleated skirt swishing softly around her legs with each step. The gong of the clock tower reminded me I was cutting it close, so I darted into the empty locker room to change. I tossed my duffel bag on a bench, and hurriedly traded my regulation prepster garb for the all-black combat ensemble of the Verge discipline—tight workout pants, a clingy tank top with A.A. embroidered on the chest in gold, and running shoes. After shoving my uniform into a locker, I pushed through the door labeled Training Room.
What I saw nearly made me turn right back around.
Signy had put us through the paces on Midgard, but this facility was next-level intimidating. Weapons of every imaginable shape lined one wall of the Verge room—thick swords, tiny daggers, spiked balls on long sticks, mid-sized sticks on long chains, and an axe. An axe! The opposite wall played host to a series of climbing apparatus, with rock-holds, rings, and angled sticks. A portion of the floor housed weight machines, parallel bars, and something that looked suspiciously like a pommel horse. Did we have to learn gymnastics here, too?
In the center of the room lay a thick training mat. At the edge stood a half-dozen girls and two boys in a line, their feet shoulder-width apart and their hands folded at the smalls of their backs. The girls wore their hair in tight ponytails and boasted the kinds of muscles I’d never seen on a teenager. At five-foot, nine-inches, I’d been considered pretty tall in Granite Ridge. But each of these girls stood at least a full six feet, with a confident air that made them seem like giants. And the guys . . . holy crêpes. The one thing I’d been confident about had been my physical training. But one look around this room, and it was clear I was totally out of my league.
Again.
“Fall in, Aura,” a familiar voice whispered in my ear. I whipped my head to the right, where my aunt stood with a clipboard.
“Signy!” I exclaimed. “You’re my teacher?”
“I’m one of them.” Amusement sparkled in her eyes. “And I’m Professor Bergen here. You’d better fall in—Headmistress Herliefer is a stickler for punctuality. She’s the head of the Verge program, and she’s running today’s training, so look sharp.”
Signy gestured to the line, and I scooted into place beside a raven-haired girl who stood a whole head taller than me. She looked down her pointed nose and gave a slight nod. I nodded back and mirrored her posture, willing my muscles to grow. I didn’t want to be the weakling Earth girl among the Amazonian women of Alfheim.
“You must be Viggo.” Signy spoke behind me. “You’re cutting it close. Fall in.”
“Sorry. I’ll just take my place right . . . here.”
Oh no. No, no, no. Just no.
I closed my eyes and prayed for a miracle that didn’t come. A cloud of cedar and pride filled the space next to me as the deep voice I’d hoped I’d never hear again murmured softly in my ear. “Good morning, Glitre.”
I ground my teeth together, ignoring the pop in my jaw. Misguided butterflies nudged at my back, and I willed them to go away.
“What’s the matter, Glitre? Helbeast got your tongue?” Viggo chuckled.
My ponytail swung in an arc as I whipped my head around. “For your information, I’m—”
“God morgen, class. Velkommen to our new studen
ts, Aura and Viggo. My name is Headmistress Herliefer, and I am charged with instructing you in combat arts.” A tall, thin woman with the grace of a ballet mistress glided across the mat. The whistle at her neck and clipboard in her hands reminded me of my old gym teacher—a matronly woman who insisted we refer to her class as physical education, because, “my name’s not Jim, ladies!” But if the hardware on the west wall was any indication, the games I was in for here would be much more strenuous than noodle tag and dodge ball.
“You may have noticed we have a new teacher with us. Professor Bergen was one of my finest Verge students during her tenure at the academy, and I was most pleased when she agreed to help mold our current class. Today, we will continue our agility regimen with your training partners. Prefects, take positions on the climbing wall. Agni and Miral, commence weight work with emphasis on power bursts. Svor and Vans, work in with them. Wren and Djenga, sprints on the field. Aura and Viggo, Professor Bergen will evaluate your respective combative abilities on the mat.” Headmistress Herliefer blew her whistle, and my classmates jogged to their assigned stations. I ignored the smirking male beside me as I followed Signy to the mat.
“The new guy is a jerk,” I whispered to her.
“I heard that.” Viggo sounded amused.
“Viggo.” Signy faced him when she reached the mat. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Erik and I were good friends when we were at the academy together. I was sorry to hear of his passing.”
“Thanks. That means a lot.” Viggo gave a nod.
I shot Signy a curious glance. Who was Erik?
“Surviving in Svartalfheim without your Protektor must have been difficult—and so soon after you’d lost your parents.” Signy frowned. Wait. What? “We tried to extract you last year, but we couldn’t locate you.”
