Page 5 of Heart of Mischief

Crack!

Charlie yelped as the limb snapped and her body tumbledthrough the air. She hit the ground hard, her right shoulder and side taking the brunt of the fall. Henry squeaked as his tiny body bounced off her legs. Pain lanced through her, little forks of lightning in her muscles that she knew would leave nasty bruises. She had little time to think on the pain, however, because the vittra was barreling toward her, teeth bared and claws flashing. She screamed and squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the attack—

A whoosh sounded over her, followed by a loudthunk.

The vittra’s claws never pierced her flesh.

Charlie popped one eye open, peering nervously upward. The goblin was no longer over her.

It was skewered to the trunk of the tree she had fallen from, an axe through its chest.

“For Odin’ssake, girl,” came Vidar’s familiar booming voice. Charlie glanced over to find his enormous frame towering above the bushes in which he had previously been hiding. The axe that normally dangled from his belt was noticeably missing. “Have I taught you nothing?”

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One by one, others poppedup besideVidar.First Bjorn, grinning under his matted blond hair; then Abigail, face twisted with disgust; and finally, Lou and Mason, who stared at the vittra kebab and yelled, “Gross!” in gleeful unison. They glanced at each other in surprise, then looked quickly away, cheeks flushing.

“What was that?” Vidar demanded, long black braids swaying as he stormed out of the brush and over to the dead vittra. “What happened to stealth and speed?”

Charlie groaned, letting her head fall back to the forest floor. “I know, I know,” she said, reciting the mantra that the Vikings had drilled into them since they began training three weeks before: “In the forest, stealth and speed are your greatest allies.”

“Damn right.” Vidar yanked his axe from the vittra’s chest, causing the goblin to fall to the ground in a jumble of gray limbs and bright green blood. “Though, based on your performance, you’d thinkstealthreally meantelephant footsteps.”

“I mean,” said Mason, stepping out from the bush and raising the wooden sword at his side. He moved forward a few paces, showing off a few jabs and slices. “Not everyone can be as naturally gifted at fighting as I am.”

“Not bad,” said Bjorn, nodding his blond head once.

“Oh, please.” Lou rolled her eyes. “Don’t compliment him. Any more inflation and that boy’s ego will pop.”

“Yeah,” said Abigail, raising her wooden sword and waving it over her head. “He’s not the only one of us making progress.”

During the wooden sword’s second rotation, Abigail swung it a little too far to the right. Bjorn ducked before it whacked him upside the chin. The Viking barked out a laugh and said, “The only progress you’re making right now is toward giving me a clean shave.”

Abigail lowered the sword and scowled. There was nothing she hated more than not being the best in the class.

A half smile pulled at Charlie’s lips as she watched the familiar banter between the Vikings and her favorite people. Her eyes lingered on Mason, who was spinning the sword with a smug smirk on his face; at leastoneof them might be able to defend themselves against the creatures lurking in the woods.

But when Mason glanced her way, his confident smile slipped. In fact, his entire face seemed to shutter, to fold in on itself—eyes narrowing, brows lowering, lips pursing into a tight, angry bud. For one frigid second, he stared at his sister.

Then he turned away.

You’re so goddamn selfish.

Those were the last words her brother had said on homecoming night. The last words before he stopped speaking to her entirely.

A squeak sounded to Charlie’s left, and she looked over to see Henry seated on the forest floor, drenched in a rogue splash of green blood. He lifted his arms to inspect the liquid curiously. He leaned forward, beard rustling, ready to have a taste.

Charlie swatted his arm away from his mouth. “Goblin blood isnotpart of a balanced diet, Henry.”

His beard turned down in a pout.

Sighing, she pushed herself up into a sitting position. Her body felt bruised and tender, like a ripe peach that had rolled down a rocky hill. She wasn’t sure how many more sleepless nightsand early training sessions she could take before she broke down entirely.

It didn’t matter. She had to push through. If not for herself, then to set an example for the people she loved—because that was who she was really doing this for.

“Right,” said Vidar, using a rust-stained rag to wipe the vittra blood from his axe. “Demonstration over. We can discuss what the girl did wrong on the walk back to the house.”

Staggering to her feet and trying not to wince at the pain, Charlie said, “Isn’t the right way to deliver feedback by including the goodandthe bad?” Henry grabbed her ankle and nimbly scaled her body to come sit on her shoulder, leaving smudges of green blood on her pants and sleeves. “As in, compliment me on what I did right before you berate me for what I did wrong?”