Mother stands at her desk. When I failed this class, I had no ideashewould be teaching it this year. Normally I avoid any class Mother teaches, and even the infirmary where she works. I don’t want her to see the injuries Father has given me. She’d get the wrong idea.
“All right, in your seats, everyone,” she calls out.
She frowns when her eyes land on me, her brows lifting in worry. “Amund?”
It must be obvious Father is pushing me hard just from looking at me, but I don’t need her concern. I don’t deserve it. “Here.”
She pauses a moment, as if debating if she should say something, but then the door bursts open.
My body immediately tenses.
When I see who’s standing in the door, I can’t believe my eyes.
Edith.
She hurries inside, her backpack hanging off her shoulder. “Sorry I’m late, I had trouble finding the class.”
My mother shakes her head. “Thank you for joining us. Take a seat.”
Edith looks out over the class—until she sees me.
Our eyes lock.
Unbelievable. Is this what Helga meant by dealing with her? Letting Edith roam around Skallagrim and continue her classes? Doesn’t Helga realize she’s endangering every student here by allowing this? Edith can’t control herself.
I glance to the empty seat beside me—the only unclaimed one in class.Great.
Frowning, Edith reluctantly walks over to me.
“What are you even doing here?” I ask lowly.
She scowls at me. “Attending class, just like you.”
“You should be expelled.”
Her eyes flash. “Helga doesn’t think so.”
My hand tightens into a fist atop my desk. “We’ll see about that.”
“Enough, the two of you,” my mother chides.
Once she finishes taking attendance, Mother draws a long string of runes on the board:??????????????????????????????????????
“This is a runic inscription from Bryggen, dating back to the 1200s. Work together with your partner to translate these runes,” she says. “If you can translate them before class ends, I won’t assign any homework tonight.”
Edith ignores me, takes out her pen and paper, and starts copying them down.
I stare at the runes, but I can’t concentrate. How can I? Edith is sitting right next to me. I watch her out of the corner of my eye, aware of her every movement. She’s flipping through her book of runes, her forehead creased in concentration.
Edith must notice me staring. “Are you going to help or not?”
The last thing I want is to help her, but I have no choice. Less homework means more time to keep an eye on Edith. I glance over at her open book. “Those runes aren’t the Elder or Younger Futhark.”
Edith frowns. “How do you know that?”
“Those are medieval runes.”
I flip the page for her, finding the right ones. “Here.”
