Page 17 of Blood Beneath the Snow (Blood & Souls Duology #1)

17

“Again.”

“But I’m tired,” I gasped, sweat making my palms slick.

The Hellbringer was making me work at hand-to-hand combat. I hated it. It was evident he had been training for years and I had only been training for days. It didn’t take me long to learn beneath the dark leathers was a man built of pure muscle. Every hit he allowed me to land felt like my fist was connecting with solid rock.

“Will your brothers care?” he asked, easily dodging my next sloppy punch.

I could see the smirk Bjorn would level at me if I said I was tired while he pummeled me with his fists. He wouldn’t stop; he would light his knuckles on fire before he swung again.

The thought of my brother’s flames ignited a blaze within me. I gritted my teeth and lunged again.

My fist connected with nothing but air and my center of balance lost its hold, sending me stumbling toward him. The air left my lungs in a moment of panic and I stretched my hands out to catch myself. But before my palms connected, a hand wrapped around my shoulder, catching me mid-fall and wrenching me back to my feet.

My jaw shook a bit as I realized the Hellbringer had kept me from face-planting. “This is embarrassing,” I hissed under my breath. I half hoped he wouldn’t hear.

He did. “You have no reason to be embarrassed. I am your teacher. The point is for you to get better. That won’t happen immediately.” He took his defensive stance once more. “Again.”

As I squared my shoulders, I cursed myself silently for caring what he thought. He was right—he was my captor, nothing more.

So why did he make me nervous?

Don’t be an idiot. He makes you nervous because you want to hear him call you princess these days. If falling for him is your worst nightmare, you’re standing on the edge of a precipice.

The thought made me want to cry or hit something. Either would do.

I centered myself, drawing in the virulent emotions raging around me. Drawing a steadying breath, grinding my boots into the floor. Never fight angry. Maybe there was truth in his words.

Left, right, step, step, duck, turn, right, left. I almost laughed aloud when the flurry of a step-ball-change aided me in keeping up with his breakneck pace. My movements flowed like water through a river and suddenly I knew why it was so apparent the Hellbringer loved doing this, loved fighting. Because when my fists connected with his abdomen, one after the other, the pain and exhaustion didn’t matter anymore. Only the dance.

My success surprised me enough that I pulled back from him, from the exercise. I stared at my hands. “I did it,” I said. I glanced up at him, wide-eyed. “I did it.”

He nodded. “You did.”

Was he smiling behind the mask?

Why do you care if he’s smiling?

I stifled the thoughts that came next. I didn’t want to hear them.

He sheathed his sword and removed his gloves, tucking them into a pocket while he undid the fastenings of his armor. But I reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling his now bare hand toward me.

He stilled, and I felt the flush creeping up my cheeks as I examined his palm. “Why didn’t you have a healer look at this?”

The two lines from where he’d caught my sword on our first night together were still there, an angry red. The wounds were sealed, but as I traced my thumb absentmindedly along the lines of his palm, he flinched and pulled back from me. Maybe they still hurt.

He curled his hand into a fist. “Haven’t had time.”

The reality of what I’d done—caressing the Hellbringer’s hand—hit me. The memory of my dream resurfaced with full force once again, and for a moment I was caught up in wishing his hands would wrap around my waist and draw me closer to him.

I chewed my lip, turning away to remove my own armor, now that we were apparently finished sparring for the night. Ignoring the way my own hand tingled, like I’d been zapped by one of the harmless jellyfish in the southern sea.

I didn’t ask about his hand again.

The next two days passed without event. Truthfully, I was more relaxed than ever. My dream about the Hellbringer seemed to lose its edge in the wake of my pride at being able to keep up with him when we fought now. I’d nearly forgotten it by the time the next storm arrived.

Nearly.

Running circles around the main room of the prison was my least favorite aspect of training, a fact the Hellbringer recognized and seemed determined to use against me. Even now, despite sweating profusely, I noticed the temperature dropping steadily. Goose bumps snaked across my arms when I shivered.

The Hellbringer, who was whittling away at a block of wood, didn’t look up from his task. “The weather will be dangerous tonight,” he said. “There’s a bad storm blowing in. We must do everything we can to keep ourselves warm.”

I ran my tongue over my lips where they stuck together with dryness and wiped sweat from my forehead. “What are you proposing?” I asked, slowing to a stop. “A trip somewhere warmer?”

“No,” he said, and I felt a twinge of disappointment. Although the smoke filtered out through the tunnels above the fireplace, I still smelled like the unceasing fire. My desire for fresh air was as poignant as hunger pains. I hadn’t expected how cooped up I would feel without access to the outdoors.

“We will share the bed tonight.”

My face burned bright red at his words, my once-clear thoughts immediately filled with memories of what I’d dreamt in that same bed mere nights before. There was no way I would be sleeping next to the man whose imagined voice had nearly made me come. “Excuse me?” I sputtered. “Absolutely not.”

He didn’t look up at me. The mask obscured any emotion on his face, and I glowered, knowing my expressions betrayed my feelings. “Do you not want to live through the night?”

I bristled. “I’m not the one who was stupid enough to pick an abandoned prison in the middle of the northern wastelands as my hideout. Can’t your soldier teleport us? Why don’t we spend the night in Bhorglid?” It was a stupid question—he would be found and captured in an instant. But, for the briefest second, I found myself missing my own bed and the way the snow fell in flurries at home instead of blizzards.

There was no acknowledgment of my question. The fire flashed sparks as he threw another log into it. “What, exactly, do you find so reprehensible about sleeping next to me?” I heard a note of wry sarcasm in his voice despite the distortion.

I rubbed a hand across my forehead. He didn’t know, couldn’t know. The whole thing had happened in my head. But the thought of the Hellbringer crooning, “Tell me you like it, Princess,” had me flushing from head to toe. And that wasn’t even the dirtiest thing my subconscious had made him say. “Perhaps the number of people you’ve slaughtered in cold blood. Will I get any sleep or spend the whole night wondering if you’ll stick a knife in my back?”

“Oh, Princess. I have much more efficient ways of killing you than with a knife.” He finished tending to the fire and stood, turning to face me. Within moments he was mere inches away. I had to tilt my head back to keep eye contact with the carved helmet. I staunchly ignored the thrill that ran down my spine. When had his very presence become so magnetic?

“If only you knew,” he murmured, “the pleasure of feeling your magic set free to take what it pleases.” He reached out and fingered a strand of hair that fell against my shoulder. Every muscle in my body tensed.

His next words were soft. “Do you know what it is like to be not a man but a weapon?”

He stepped back, releasing my hair, and gazed at the fire. I hated the red flushing my cheeks. Hated the way heat flared in my belly, between my thighs. Of all the people I could have been craving, why did it have to be the worst one?

It’s physical, I reminded myself. Nothing more.

But something about it made me wonder. Arne and I had been physically intimate, but it had felt different; straightforward and purposeful, a means to an end. The way I was curious about the Hellbringer was a new sort of wanting.

I refused to acknowledge it. “Fine,” I said. “But I won’t sleep next to someone who is dressed in a full suit of armor.”

He looked at himself as if realizing he was armored for the first time that evening. But he glanced at me and nodded. His hands reached up to his throat, where a chain clasped his cloak around him, and unfastened it, tossing it onto the bed.

Slowly, one piece at a time, he unstrapped his dark metal armor, revealing his casual black shirt and pants underneath. I couldn’t see any of his skin, and yet I blushed like I was watching someone undress entirely.

It was too intimate. His casual clothes hugged his body, showing off lean muscle. I knew he was strong—had even seen his bare torso before—but it was another feeling entirely to see the strength of him on display, his shirt clinging to his biceps and his pants tight around his thighs. Every movement declared his intentions: he wanted me to watch him, to drink him in with my eyes.

I turned to hide my face from him. “Well,” I said, unceremoniously. “I guess I’m…going to bed. If you want to join me.”

He laughed then, and despite the voice modulator, the sound was lovely. “No one has ever invited me to bed with so little enthusiasm,” he said, and I heard his footsteps following behind me.

I looked over my shoulder. “Don’t flatter yourself.” It was easy to imagine the kinds of people who must throw themselves at him in Kryllian: wealthy, charming individuals with little ambition for anything other than a life of ease. Was he allowed to maintain relationships as the Hellbringer? I opened my mouth to ask, then thought better of it and shut it promptly.

I took the left side of the bed, drawing the blanket over myself and turning to face outward. I felt the other side of the mattress sink when he sat. Both of his boots clunked against the floor as he pulled them off.

He could be ugly, I reminded myself, trying not to tense as he brushed against me. Could he hear the way my heart thundered violently?

He didn’t ask, merely turned on his side to face me and wrapped an arm around me, pulling me close. He draped his cloak over both of us.

I tried to hate it. But, by the gods, he was warm .

Over the next several minutes my shivering slowed to a stop and my jaw relaxed. The anxiousness I’d felt about being so close to him had subsided. His arm draped casually over my stomach, the maw of the mask tilted up so his head rested above mine. The palm pressed over my belly was too much like the hand from my dream, the one that had reached down between my legs.

But beneath the layer of tension was a measure of unfamiliar comfort. I’d never been…held this way. Arne knew I didn’t like to be touched and respected my wishes. But my hesitancy evaporated at the feeling of the Hellbringer clutching me to him.

I waited for his breathing to slow, but it remained quick. Quick from the cold or…

No, I scolded myself. Don’t start.

I glanced at his hand. His glove was still torn from where he had caught my blade the very first night we’d spent together. The slices in the fabric were jagged. He must have seen a healer after I mentioned the markings on his palm, because there was no longer any trace of a scar. But his blood stained the edges of the fabric. I wondered why he didn’t replace it.

I didn’t realize I’d reached out to touch him until I felt the stiffness of the bloodstains on the fabric. My eyes widened and I pulled back immediately. I waited to feel another breath from him, but he was utterly still.

“Sorry,” I whispered. I clutched my hand to myself.

He exhaled. “Go to sleep.” I’d expected his voice to be harsh through the distortion, but it wasn’t. It sounded raw, like his throat had gone dry.

Thinking about it was too much to bear. I needed to sleep. Needed to push away my feelings for the Hellbringer.

A wave of dread rolled over me. Feelings for the Hellbringer. Did I have feelings for him? Or was it intrigue at the mystery of it all?

No matter—soon enough we would be on opposite sides of the war again. Thinking of him this way was pointless. Besides, he’d never feel the same. He was a cold-blooded killer. Mass murder didn’t leave a person untouched.

This was the wrong topic of thought for someone trying to drift off to sleep.

“You’re anxious,” he murmured. I tensed. “I can feel your heartbeat.” He tapped with two fingers where his hand brushed against the bottom of my rib cage. “Right there.”

I pushed away from him to stand up. “Don’t touch me,” I snarled, embarrassed at the heat coiling in my stomach from the contact. My feet were freezing to the floor, but I stood my ground, arms crossed over my chest, glaring at him.

He propped himself up on one elbow. “You’d rather freeze to death?”

I clenched my jaw. “Than be touched by a monster? Yes.”

The heartbeat of silence was long enough for him to rise and stand in front of me, and I tilted my head back to look into the eyes of his mask. The reminder of our height difference made warmth pool in my belly. “Are you aware the true best way to share body heat is naked?” He took a step closer to me. If I moved my hand, it would’ve touched him.

I tried to stubbornly wish the red out of my cheeks. My imagination was taking on a life of its own, replaying the vivid dream I’d had only a few nights ago: his fingers pushing into me, his dark voice murmuring in my ear, telling me exactly what he wanted. Praising me, calling me good. How did I tell my sworn enemy I really wouldn’t mind doing this naked?

The next shiver coursing through me had nothing to do with the temperature.

“Get. Back. In. Bed.” The command was no more than a hardened whisper.

“No,” I said through chattering teeth.

He stared at me through his helmet. “What are you afraid of? Do you feel something when I touch you?”

My eyes widened.

I watched, frozen, as he lifted a gloved hand to my face and brushed it against my cheek. “Does it scare you?”

Silence.

He shrugged. “If you’d like to freeze to death, be my guest. If not, you know where to find me.” He turned and lay back on the bed, pulling the blanket around himself, facing away from me.

I knew the bitterness I felt was not as sharp as the cold enveloping me. My arms were numb. Another minute or two and I wouldn’t be able to feel my legs either. If I didn’t get in the bed and get close to him, I would die tonight. The crackling flames in the fireplace wouldn’t be enough to prevent that.

But would climbing back into the bed be admitting defeat?

I let out a shuddering breath, watching it crystallize in front of me, and moved back to the bed. The Hellbringer lifted the side of his cloak so I could clamber under it.

Now I curled against him. Shame coiled in my stomach. Shame that he’d clearly won the advantage over me. Shame that the tentative peace I’d made with him would be ruined in the morning. And shame that I wanted to hold him close and embrace the murderer who chipped away at every barrier I put up.

Slumber took its time coming to claim me.

When I woke up, the cold had subsided a bit. I was warm under the blankets and goose bumps weren’t trailing telltale lines over my arms and legs. It was a relief—I’d shivered through the night despite the Hellbringer’s warmth next to me.

That warmth was strikingly absent now, though. I sat up and looked around, but I was alone. I yawned and stretched. Maybe his soldier had come to get him and take him away for a mission of some kind.

It was probably best he wasn’t there, I thought while I braided my hair. It would save us both from the awkwardness. Besides, he was my enemy.

But…did enemies make comments to each other about sleeping naked together? Did enemies stroke each other’s faces and ask what they were afraid of? Did enemies think about each other while getting themselves off?

My thoughts were abuzz.

Boots sounded on the metal floor, distracting me. Mira gave me a perfunctory glance from where she’d landed. The Hellbringer, dressed in his armor once more, stepped back into the room. He was the picture of power. Looking at him, ready for war, sent the same kind of thrill through me as when he’d been close last night, asking what I felt for him.

“Get ready,” he said, adjusting his gloves. I wondered if he had just put them on. “We’re leaving.”

Ten minutes and a dozen questions later, my boots crunched in white snow as Mira disappeared. Afternoon sun reached down between the pines to brush against my palms.

“Oh.” I stretched out my arms, looking at the green canopy of needles above me and watching my exhaled breath crystallize in the air. It tasted crisp in my lungs, fresher than the air I’d breathed all week. I felt my nose turning pink. “I’ve missed this.”

“Stretch your legs while you can,” the Hellbringer instructed. “We can’t stay here for long.”

I turned in a circle, trying to see if I recognized anything. Considering the entire northern half of Bhorglid looked identical, the place was unfamiliar to me. I pulled my hood over my head to warm my ears. “What are we doing here?” The trees stretched for miles. I could see no clearing in any direction. Not five minutes before, my captor had instructed me to grab my cloak and my sword. The next thing I knew, Mira whisked both of us aboveground. I was confused but not upset at the turn of events.

“I thought you could use a break from our rigorous training schedule,” he said. “And I wondered if you might be interested in spying on your brothers and father for a moment.”

I blinked at him. A moment of silence passed. “Spying on my family?”

“Yes.”

I shook my head. He couldn’t be serious. “Why? Surely you have more important things to do.”

“Gathering information is what I’ve been ordered to do.”

The thought of seeing my family again was equal parts exciting and repugnant. While I longed to see Frode and Jac and reassure them I was okay, the thought of laying eyes on my father or Bjorn made me shiver with dread.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Why would you ask me to come with you?”

He sighed. “What did I say about petulant questions? Are you coming, or should I have Mira take you back?”

The threat silenced me. “Let’s go,” I said.

We walked for about an hour while I mulled over the Hellbringer’s proposal. Was this a test? Was he waiting to see if I would run? Neither of us had reason to trust the other.

And yet…here we were.

If the chance came to escape, would I take it?

Part of me wanted to. It was the part of me that hated seeing only prison walls every day and despised losing every time we sparred. The part that missed Frode and Freja like cut-off limbs and longed to change things back to the way they’d been before.

The freezing wetness seeped into my socks through the tops of my boots with every step. My toes would be numb soon. The Hellbringer’s pace kept my circulation up, though, and we continued on our march.

The only way forward was through.

I smelled the smoke of a fire and heard the low rumble of an army chattering in the distance. Longing thrummed through my veins with my heartbeat. The war front wasn’t home, the Lurae soldiers weren’t my family, but the colors of Bhorglid and the scent of stew floating to me was like an anchor for my soul. Finally, I was going to get to see my brothers. And they would be none the wiser. I wonder if they’ve missed me.

Then a thought struck me and I froze.

“Wait,” I said, grabbing the Hellbringer’s arm. Nausea seized my stomach.

I must have surprised him, because my touch caused him to stop. He turned to face me. “What?”

I took a deep breath and swallowed. My voice shook. “Are you leading me into a trap? Are you going to force me to watch while you kill everyone in camp?” Tears flooded my eyes as anger did my stomach, thinking about the scene he could leave.

He didn’t move or speak for a moment. I tried to keep my hold on his arm, but every muscle failed me. My other arm twitched toward the hilt of my sword.

I would kill him if I had to or die trying. Trials be damned. My people would live to see another day. Even the Lurae.

Even my family.

The breath he let out made a strange sound through whatever device altered his voice. He shook his head slowly. “We are not here to kill anyone. We are here to eavesdrop; that’s it.” When I didn’t move, he held up his hands as if surrendering. I hadn’t noticed that my hold on his arm had gone slack. “I promise.” He placed his hand over his heart. “I will not kill anyone today.”

“How can I trust you,” I demanded through clenched teeth, “when you’ve killed so many already?” My hand was clutching the hilt now, ready to draw my weapon.

“I kill only when I’m ordered to,” he replied, lowering his hand. “I don’t know what else to tell you.”

He peered into the distance where the voices were coming from. I could hear the hum through the trees. A laugh echoed above the rest of the thrum.

“What if you go on your own?” he suggested. “This trip is for you, not me. Go, eavesdrop, and return with what you learn. I will wait here for you.”

I stared, stunned. “You want me to go spy on my brothers alone?”

He nodded.

Was he an idiot? Was this part of a larger plot I didn’t understand?

“I’m your prisoner,” I said slowly, “and you would let me go? Why?”

He sighed. “I have yet to tell you a single lie. If you choose not to believe me, then you can stay here while I go, but I must return with an update on the workings of your family. I mean them no harm. So go.” The Hellbringer gestured ahead. “I won’t stop you.”

I was starting to feel like I had missed something. What would prevent me from lying to him about the things I heard? Kryllian might be trying to put me on the throne, but it didn’t mean I was willing to hand over information willingly.

“I don’t trust you,” I said finally, shaking my head. “What are you trying to take from me?”

He leaned against the pine tree closest to him. “I can’t make you trust me. If you don’t want to go, then stay here. I have no problem doing this myself.”

A sense of unease gnawed at my stomach. Frode’s grin flashed against the backdrop of my mind. Catching a glimpse of him from the trees would be enough.

I hesitated, but when the Hellbringer sat cross-legged in the snow, I took a step forward. Then another. And another.

Until finally I was running, sprinting as fast as I could toward the camp, desperate to see someone, anyone familiar, to tell them to take me away from the Hellbringer.

A few minutes later I dared to look back. He had disappeared, hopefully moved out of sight. I slowed, my breathing heavy.

What would he do when I didn’t come back?

My breath fogged out in front of me. Would he care? Would the Queen of Kryllian still move to make an alliance if I won the Trials after I’d ditched her most loyal hound?

But then again, why bother thinking about the long term when surviving the Trials themselves was still an uncertainty?

If you stay, he will keep helping you. My thoughts were more reasonable than usual today. You’ll have a better chance of saving Freja.

I chewed my lip as I thought it over. That was true. And there was always a chance he would renege on his promise not to kill anyone if I didn’t return.

But…no. He had been oddly sincere when he promised he wasn’t going to use his Lurae. And it was true he hadn’t lied to me, at least as far as I could tell. Maybe I could take him at his word.

I hoped I could take him at his word.

Maybe it would be better if I returned to the prison after getting the information the Hellbringer wanted. While the thought of Frode and Jac enduring my father alone pained me, they needed me to win the Trials more than they needed my presence on the war front.

I gritted my teeth. I didn’t want to return. But I would if it meant having a better chance to make a difference.

When I was close enough to the camp, I climbed a tree and leapt from branch to branch. Soon I settled above a busy path between two large tents.

I made myself comfortable on the powdered perch, thankful for my waterproof cloak. Without it, I would have been soaked from sitting in snow. Below me, small figures swarmed the fire in the center of camp. Canvas tents were pitched around it from every side.

The Hellbringer had only said he wanted information; he hadn’t specified what information. Hopefully that meant I could get away with saying nothing of importance when I returned. I wasn’t about to give him the advantage he needed to win the war.

The Queen of Kryllian could send as many messengers as she wanted to convince me she intended to negotiate a truce with us after I became Queen of Bhorglid. But until a treaty had been signed, I refused to trust her fully.

I waited for half an hour, watching the crowds come and go, their chatter merely a hum from my vantage point, before a face I recognized appeared: Erik, walking purposefully toward the tent closest to me. He didn’t look up, and if he did, he probably wouldn’t have seen me. The trees were good cover.

He pushed through the entrance and disappeared into the tent.

Were they going to do all the talking inside? I frowned. There must be a way to get closer without arousing suspicion.

A hand brushed my shoulder. Without thinking, I grabbed it, whirled around, and delivered a solid punch directly to my attacker’s nose. There was a crack as my fist connected with bone, and I moved to push the person off the branch.

A grunt of pain. “Shit, Rev, why’d you do that?”

I froze and took in the face in front of me, covered with blood. “Frode?” I pulled him back up to balance on the branch. “Oh, gods. I didn’t realize it was you!” I pulled my sleeve over my hand and used it to wipe the blood dripping from his nostrils. “How did you—”

He cut me off with a look. I sighed. “Right. My thoughts are loud. I remember.”

He chuckled, but it was muffled beneath his blood-soaked glove. “I shouldn’t have startled you. What are you doing here? Everyone thinks you’re dead. How did you get away from the Hellbringer?”

For a moment, I considered lying—but even that made Frode raise an eyebrow. I groaned. “I’ll tell you everything, but first we need to find somewhere we won’t risk being overheard. The whole camp is probably wondering what that ungodly screech was.”

My brother raised an eyebrow. “Are you talking about my cry of pain from when you broke my nose ?”

I couldn’t smother my grin. The events of the last week felt like they’d happened years ago, but Frode managed to be the person I was most myself around.

How would I possibly live in a world without him if we didn’t win the Trials?

“Come on,” he said, beckoning for me to follow him. “And get those thoughts out of your head.”

I did my best to empty my mind as we leapt a few trees over and clambered down. Frode led the way as we shuffled through the snow to a patch of forest with fewer trees. It wasn’t a clearing, but sunlight glittered through the spaces between the pines.

Frode sighed with relief, stretched out his arms, and fell backward until he landed in the snow’s soft embrace. “This is where I come when it all gets too loud,” he explained. I moved to sit cross-legged next to him. “It’s far enough away that I can barely hear anyone at camp. Jac knows how to shout for me if they’re under attack, but since we moved so recently, it’s unlikely we’ll be ambushed again.” I watched as he grabbed a handful of snow and pressed it to his swollen nose.

A momentary echo of music floated in from the distance. I frowned. “Is anyone nearby?”

Frode shook his head, and the red of his hair looked like flame against the whiteness. The music faded into frozen silence once more. I must have imagined it.

“They say the forest is haunted now,” he replied to my thoughts. “That it’s Aloisa-touched. Full of wandering souls killed by the Hellbringer.”

“And you believe that?” I asked, raising my eyebrow. “I didn’t take you for the superstitious type.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve just wondered lately if my own soul might be better suited for this place than any kind of afterlife.”

I stiffened, the lack of feeling in his words like a knife between my ribs. He shouldn’t be thinking about his own death, not when our plan was laid out in stone. Why the sudden morbidity?

I wanted to press the matter, but I told myself there would be time later. Instead, I changed the subject.

“Well, the Kryllians do know the location of your current camp,” I said, “so don’t get your hopes up about avoiding another ambush.”

“Are you going to tell me how you know or keep being mysterious?”

I let out a breath and watched it fog in front of me. “You have to swear to me you won’t tell anyone. Even Jac. The only reason I’m telling you is because eventually you’ll read my thoughts and figure it out anyway.”

His solemn face didn’t match the mischief in his eyes as he put his hand over his heart. “You have my word.”

Gods, I’d missed him.

“The Hellbringer has been training me. Teaching me how to fight. Kryllian wants to help me win the throne so they can negotiate a truce once I’m queen and end the war.” I glanced at him and let my thoughts drift through the last week. It was easier to remember than it was to explain.

I was careful to keep my thoughts far from…certain events, though. Namely two involving the Hellbringer’s bed. Frode didn’t need to know about those.

Frode’s eyebrows shot up, and I knew he was observing my memories. “That’s…a lot to take in,” he said. “We’ve been waiting for a ransom letter. Father was confused when one never came, but now it makes sense. He assumed they’d killed you when they realized you didn’t know anything.”

“Wouldn’t that be lucky.” I rolled my eyes. “Let him keep thinking I’m dead. Things are probably easier that way.”

“Well, yes and no,” he said. “When Father decided it had been long enough and you weren’t coming back, he was thrilled of course. But now he won’t stop talking about what the battle between his ‘two great sons’ will be like. In case it wasn’t obvious, neither I nor Jac are included on the list of said great sons.”

“Aren’t you glad about that, though?” I spread my cloak out and laid next to him.

He shrugged and rubbed a hand over his forehead. “I hate Father. It’s impossible not to. You know that. He deserves to be despised more than anyone I’ve ever known. And yet…” Frode let his voice trail off for a moment, wincing as he examined his broken nose with his fingers. “Sometimes I look at him and wish he would be proud of me instead of disappointed.”

I reached for his hand. “I’m sorry.”

He laughed bitterly. “Don’t be. I’m not hurting anyone but myself with those expectations.”

“It isn’t the same, but I’m proud of you,” I whispered. “I would be lost without you.”

He turned to look at me and smiled. Though his face was covered in dried blood and his expression was full of sorrow, I saw gratitude in his eyes. “I haven’t forgotten the time you saved me, right after I came back from the front the first time,” he said. “Even when things are hard, I’m always grateful you found me in time and stopped me. You’ve given me reason to keep living.”

I squeezed his hand. “I miss you, Frode,” I said. “I’m staying in an abandoned prison. It’s freezing cold. Most of my days are spent alone. I want to come home.”

“No, you don’t.” When I shot him a puzzled look, he continued, “Or at least, you shouldn’t. I see how difficult it is for you to weather this training, but if Kryllian truly does want to end the war, you must win the throne. And the Hellbringer might be a terrible companion, but it’s only been three weeks and I can already see more confidence in your eyes.”

I’d known he was going to encourage me to stay, but for a moment disappointment tore through me. Part of me wished he would beg me to come back with him.

Frode stood and reached down to pull me to my feet. Then he wrapped me in a hug. “I miss you more than words could ever say,” he murmured, “but we need you to be strong. For me and Jac. For Freja. For the godforsaken.”

“I will,” I said, though the tears leaking from the corners of my eyes begged me to say otherwise. “Oh, wait, before you go—I was supposed to be spying. I need some sort of information to bring back to the Hellbringer.”

“Father has no plans except to find the Hellbringer, but he’s no closer than before.” Frode pulled away and brushed the tears from my face. “We have no leads. Now go, and tell him I said if he lets anything happen to you, I’ll kill him where he stands.” He offered me a lopsided grin.

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, just threaten the most dangerous man in the world.”

“I have no doubt you beat me to that opportunity the moment he took you.” He winked. “Now go. We’ll be okay. And so will you.”

When the afternoon was turning to dusk, painting the sky bright orange, I arrived back where the Hellbringer and I had parted ways. There was no one around. The snow itself appeared untouched. Had he abandoned me?

I glanced up and my eyes found him then, sitting on a low-hanging branch in the dimming light, his back to the tree’s trunk. “I suppose wearing all black does help camouflage you when it’s dark,” I called. “Care to come down?”

In one smooth motion, he tilted and let himself fall into a backflip, landing expertly on his feet. Show-off.

“You’re back sooner than I expected.” He dusted snow off his gloves as he came toward me, then paused. “Part of me thought you might not return at all.”

I stared at his feet. Was I supposed to tell him I hadn’t wanted to? I debated for a moment before deciding to keep my conflicted feelings to myself. I’d returned, and that was what mattered.

“What information did you gather?” he asked.

“No progress,” I said, my voice hoarse from the crying I had done earlier. “They are no closer to finding you.”

Before I could continue, he replied, “Excellent. Let’s go. Mira will be waiting for us.” The Hellbringer turned and began walking away.

“That’s…that’s it?” I asked uncertainly. “Nothing else you wanted to know?”

He glanced over his shoulder. “This journey was not for me, Princess. It was for you. If only for you to realize you are not my prisoner but my guest. And to learn I am always a man of my word.”

I considered his words as I followed several steps behind him. “Did you know they say this forest is haunted now?” I ventured. “By all of your victims?”

He didn’t turn to face me, simply kept walking. “And what do you think?”

“Well, my people wonder if you’re Aloisa-touched. It wouldn’t surprise me they also think the forest might be.”

“I’m not goddess-touched,” he said. “Or so I hope. If your gods are real, then they’re foolish.”

I chuckled. “Yes, they are. You don’t believe in any gods?”

He shook his head. “No god would be foolish enough to entrust a power like this to me. A god turning a human into a weapon? It’s more than nonsensical. It’s cruel.”

He took two more steps forward before a Bhorglid sentry, clothed in forest colors to keep himself hidden, moved out from behind the trees and fired an arrow straight into the Hellbringer’s arm.

The scarlet on the snow made me gasp. My hand flew to my mouth and I reached out—though I wasn’t sure if it was to comfort his pain or stop his retaliation—but the world had slowed and I was frozen in place.

A scream stuck in my throat, my eyes locked on the scene as the Hellbringer gave no reaction to the pain except to face the sentry and raise his hand, palm out, then close it into a fist.

And the Bhorglid soldier fell dead in the snow.