Page 18 of Blood Beneath the Snow (Blood & Souls Duology #1)

18

The next minutes blurred together.

The Hellbringer moved quickly, shoving the arrow through his arm with a growl of pain. He broke the shaft and pulled both halves out, leaving the projectile to stain the snow a slick red. Then he grabbed my arm and pulled me forward.

“You…you…you killed him,” I gasped.

He said nothing, only moved faster, blood dripping behind him. With a crack , Mira appeared in front of us. She took one look at the Hellbringer’s arm and said, “Healer?”

“Not until you take her back.”

I moved to pull my arm from his grasp, but Mira took my other wrist and left me stumbling to the floor in the flickering light of the prison. Then she disappeared, presumably to take the Hellbringer to be healed.

When the Hellbringer returned ten minutes later, I was in the same place Mira had left me: on my hands and knees, shivering.

I didn’t look at him. He didn’t speak.

It had been instinct, nothing more, when he clenched his fist, ripping the life from the young sentry. The boy had shot him; what did I expect? It was self-defense.

But was it really? With the odds so far in his favor?

He had to kill the boy. No one could know the Hellbringer was there.

He promised you he wouldn’t. He said your people would be safe.

I couldn’t get the image out of my head: the young boy, no older than sixteen, dark hair speckled with snow, trying to hide the fear on his face as he fired an arrow. He must have known what would happen to him. And yet he took his shot anyway, like his superiors would have instructed him.

His eyes going glassy. The way he crumpled to the ground like a rag doll.

I’d never witnessed the Hellbringer’s destructive power with my own eyes. Until now, he’d behaved like a Nilurae—like me. It made the soldier’s death all the more startling, because at some point over the last three weeks I’d stopped believing he was capable of murdering innocents. Of annihilating my people.

Despite my harsh return to reality, no fear slithered through me. Only anger, hot as Bjorn’s fire, curling in my stomach and my shoulders and my hands. I forced myself to my feet, trembling, and shoved the Hellbringer with all my might, half hoping to push him into the flames. He didn’t stumble but took a step back.

“Revna, I—”

“Shut up!” I screamed. My fingers tangled in my damp hair, pulling at it frantically. “How could you? You promised me you wouldn’t!” I took my fighting stance and threw blow after blow, hitting him as hard as I possibly could.

He stood still and took each one.

When my arms had no strength left and tears stained my cheeks, grief flowing from me for a boy whose name I didn’t know, I fell to my knees.

“ There is no greater death than to die in service to Bhorglid. ” My father’s voice echoed through my head.

“No,” I moaned. “No, no, no.”

A pair of arms wrapped around me, pulling me in. I sobbed into the Hellbringer’s shirt until my mind was empty.

When I woke up, the Hellbringer was gone.

At some point, while he rocked me softly against his chest, I must have fallen asleep. And then…he moved me to the bed. It was the only explanation. Every muscle hurt, as if the soreness resulting from each training session had held back until now, the well-earned pain demanding to be remembered. I groaned. My voice was hoarse, my eyes swollen.

I rolled over and pulled my cloak over my face. Why did I have to be awake? Why couldn’t I sleep and forget it all?

It was impossible to tell whether I’d slept till the afternoon, missing our morning training, or if the Hellbringer had left early to give me space. I didn’t particularly care either way.

I added another thing to my list of what I knew about him: liar .

He had promised me he wouldn’t hurt anyone, wouldn’t kill anyone while we were visiting the camp, and he had lied. Even though the boy had shot him, even though retaliation was instinctual, he had taken an innocent life.

You know he didn’t mean to.

I pushed the thought out of my head. Why did it matter? The Lurae were all the same. They saw everyone around them as bodies to do their bidding and nothing more.

The boy was Lurae, too.

Tears welled in my eyes again at the thought, emotion clawing at my chest. One day he would have been exactly like the Hellbringer.

Maybe that made his sacrifice a worthy one. To keep another Lurae from terrorizing Bhorglid.

That was when I heard it. Coming from somewhere deep inside the prison, a haunting, eerie noise like a wail.

I scrambled for my sword. There was someone else here. How had they gotten in?

Grabbing a lantern, sword in my other hand, I peered into the darkness. The noise was quiet, as if it were nothing but a distant memory echoing through the halls. If there was someone here, they were far away.

I took a step into the darkness and frowned. The echoes made it difficult to discern which direction the noise came from, but after a moment of hesitation, I turned left. I had to start somewhere.

I followed a twisting path for ten minutes, the sound slowly growing louder as my fingers went numb. The noise was strange and animallike, almost unrecognizable. How had something living managed to work its way into this underground sanctuary?

I turned the corner, and my lantern cast a too-familiar shadow on a distant wall. Panic hit me like a punch to the stomach and I stepped back fast, hiding behind the corner, shielding the lamp with my cloak to hide the light.

The Hellbringer hadn’t seen me. I relaxed slightly, tilting my head to listen.

He was crying.

No, not simply crying. He rested on his knees, face in his hands, and shaking sobs echoed back to me. Despair resounded around us, each of his shaking breaths punctuating his anguished lament. But most startling was my eyes adjusting to the darkness just enough to see his helmet resting next to him. He faced away from me, any details of his face obscured in the darkness. Long dark hair covered the back of his head, appearing in the dim light almost the same color as his mask, which stared at me now with wide, unseeing eyes.

As I stood frozen, he spoke.

“Forgive me.” His voice trembled, thick with emotion. “Please forgive me.”

A shiver shook me, and I didn’t know if it was the cold or the realization that I was eavesdropping on something personal. Even sacred. Was he praying? He’d said he didn’t believe in any gods. What higher power could possibly grant him forgiveness?

What could make the Hellbringer sound broken?

My hands shook. I rushed back down the hallway, keeping my footsteps as quiet as I could, hoping he wouldn’t hear me.

With each step, thoughts flooded my mind. One stuck out more than the others: Did he…feel guilty for the young boy he had killed?

Upon returning to our room, I hung the lantern in its place and sat cross-legged in front of the fire, letting the flames warm my cold fingers, wondering when he would return.

I wasn’t sure what I’d say when he did.

The part of me burning with hatred and mistrust had been replaced with acceptance and understanding when Frode told me to stay with him. For all of the Hellbringer’s anger during the first several days of my captivity, he’d slowly softened. I’d wondered as we spoke after I returned from talking with Frode if a tentative understanding was building between us.

I stared at the dancing flames and sighed. Just this morning I wanted to leave and never come back. Now I was convincing myself the Hellbringer’s intentions were good, even when they resulted in death. Never had my morals been so complicated; until now, the only dilemmas I’d had to face involved the priests and their foolish philosophies.

This…was entirely different.

Are you any better than him? My treacherous thoughts betrayed me. The only reason you’re here is so you can kill your own brothers and steal a crown you don’t deserve. At least the boy he killed posed a real threat.

I swallowed. I didn’t want to be like the Hellbringer. But I’d have to continue deeper and deeper down the path of a killer if I wanted to survive the Trials.

Not everyone wept when they ended a life, though. Forgiving him felt impossible, even though I knew it made me a hypocrite to hold today against him. Maybe it was enough to move forward and hope for the best. Allow his actions to show me his true intentions.

The sound of boots on the metal floors announced his return. When he walked in, I stood in the open area and pointed my sword at him. “Draw your weapon,” I said. “It’s sparring time.”