Page 24 of Blood Beneath the Snow (Blood & Souls Duology #1)

24

Frode found me an hour later, sitting by the fire at the center of camp. I’d re-braided my hair and taken to polishing my sword with enough fury that despite the frigid temperatures outside, I remained alone by the hearth.

The camp itself was bigger than I expected and the people who passed included not only soldiers but healers and the occasional priest as well. The tents were pitched in ever-expanding circles around the central fire. The snow around us was packed down by endless boot prints.

I wasn’t blind. I saw how the eyes of soldiers who passed me widened and how they whispered behind their hands. As night had fallen, I’d become the main attraction in the camp. Many of the soldiers were from outer provinces, far from the capital, and had never seen the infamous Nilurae princess before now.

Frode touched me lightly on the shoulder to announce his presence. I turned to glare, but when I realized he wasn’t a gawking soldier, I relaxed.

“You’re out late,” I said. The fire illuminated his face in the darkness as he sat beside me. Around us, the camp quieted. Most soldiers were in their tents, with a few posted as sentries.

“As are you,” he replied. His green eyes glowed. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I hated that he knew I was lying; he would always know.

“I suppose it’s not as nice for you as it is for me.” He smirked. “What did you tell them?”

I pulled the memory of the interrogation to my mind and walked through it, allowing Frode to see everything that had happened during the questioning. When I finished, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Father is determined to find the Hellbringer before the Trials. He says it’s to help ease the transition of power, but we know it’s so he can get the glory.”

I leaned back, examining my sword. “He won’t get far. I’ve never seen anyone protect a secret the way the Kryllians protect the Hellbringer’s identity. I doubt anyone in the army knows who he really is.”

Frode didn’t say anything. I looked up to find him staring at me.

“What?”

He shook his head. “There are things I shouldn’t say here, so I’ll keep them to myself for now. But I’ll tell you exactly what I think of your time with the Hellbringer when we get home.”

It felt like someone had closed their hand around my throat. “Why bother saying it when I can see it all on your face?”

He rubbed his forehead. “Revna, I don’t think you understand the magnitude of what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

My shoulders tensed as I stood and sheathed my sword. “Where do the foot soldiers sleep?” I knew better than to think my father had set aside a bunk for me in my brothers’ tent.

Frode confirmed my assumption when he rose and pointed to a path leading out to the far edge of camp. “That way. I’ll walk you there.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

I wanted to punch him. I wanted to kick him in the groin. But, fine—let him join me. He wouldn’t get a word out of me.

I started walking, chewing my lip as I realized he could read my thoughts, so it wouldn’t matter if I didn’t say anything.

Frode chuckled behind me.

“Leave me alone.”

“What are you going to tell Arne, then?” he asked. “Or are we still not thinking about the consequences of our actions?”

“You know as well as I do Arne and I aren’t together anymore.”

For a few minutes the only sound was our steps through the snow. The silhouettes of trees towered over us, the fire in the center camp a mere glow in the distance now.

“Rev.” He grabbed my shoulder but I shook him off.

“Let go of me,” I hissed. “I won’t listen to you berate me any longer.”

“I’m not going to.” He held his hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry.”

I eyed him warily.

He sighed. “I’ve been under a lot of pressure. You don’t deserve to have that taken out on you. I trust you. And if you decided to trust the Hellbringer…then, gods help us, I trust him, too.”

I blinked. “Really?”

“Really.”

I turned and shoved my hands in the pockets of my cloak, trying to warm them. A couple more minutes of walking and the foot soldiers’ tents came into view. They were shabby, to say the least. Only a few torches were lit. Three sentries shivered in the cold.

“Not exactly war-ready, are they?” I muttered.

“The priests don’t give a damn about the lesser godtouched either,” Frode reminded me. “These soldiers are godtouched, so they were conscripted, but they can’t do things like our family—or the Hellbringer. They can change the colors of their eyes or make someone else feel happier. Not much place for them on the war front.”

I was surprised to realize I didn’t feel sorry for them. But then again, they’d lived full, happy lives at home, never struggling for food like the Nilurae or wondering if their children would be born on the last day of the year and then sacrificed at the new year ritual. They were welcomed at the academies despite their minimal abilities. No one mistreated them simply for existing.

That’s when I heard it floating through the trees. A familiar voice singing a tune I recognized. It was a Nilurae song.

My heart dropped to the bottom of my throat. In my naivete, I’d forgotten Arne might be stationed here. He still believed I was in love with him. Frode’s comments about him made more sense now.

Shit.

I turned around. Frode was gone, on his way back to the royal family tent. Tentatively, I walked toward the fire, where a familiar silhouette sat on a fallen tree. “Arne?”

He turned and peered at me through the dim light. When he recognized me, his face paled. “Revna? What are you doing here?”

I didn’t answer, too busy taking in his new appearance. The boy I’d cared about was gone, replaced by a hardened soldier. He wore an oversized uniform and armor. The side of his throat sported a crawling tattoo wrapping around the back of his neck like long fingers.

He ran over and pulled me into an embrace. “What the hell are you doing here?”

I disentangled myself from his arms like they were weapons. No one had told him. I hadn’t told him. “I turned down the proposal. I’m competing in the Bloodshed Trials.”

Utter silence.

Horror twisted Arne’s mouth. “What?” he whispered. “No, no, Revna. Why? I’d never want you to do that for me. Please marry the prince. You may not love him, but at least you will be alive and happy and”—he clutched my hand while I stared—“and don’t be an idiot. Don’t. Bjorn will laugh while he kills you in an instant. I can’t stand to lose you—not like this. Please.” His voice cracked.

An astonished laugh huffed out of me, my breath crystallizing in the air before falling away in the breeze. After all this time, after all we’d been through, after six years of friendship and two of something more, Arne still didn’t know me. He thought he motivated my every action.

I gently pulled my hand from his. “I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding. I did it for the godforsaken. For myself. Arne, I don’t know when you fell in love with me, but”—I swallowed, steeling myself to deliver the blow—“it wasn’t for you. I don’t feel the same. You’re one of my best friends. But I don’t think of you that way.”

He ran a hand through his hair, unease settling into his posture. The set of his jaw revealed his realization. “You’re not here for me.” He looked at our feet. “You didn’t reject him for me.”

I shook my head.

He grimaced. “I’m an idiot,” he muttered. “I should have known.”

I took a deep breath. “Arne, I’m sorry, but when you said you loved me…I couldn’t say it back. I didn’t mean to imply I loved you.”

“So because you don’t love me, you’re going to get yourself killed?” he snapped. “Is it because you love Freja?”

I was trying so desperately to be patient as I explained it all to him, but my annoyance began to seep through every word. “I love her as a sister but nothing more. And if I did love her, wouldn’t I be justified? She’s been there for me through everything.”

“ So have I! ” he bellowed, his face turning red.

I flinched and stepped backward, startled by his fury.

“Who was there when you broke your leg falling down the castle stairs when you were little?” Arne demanded. His voice was a harsh whisper now, like he’d realized yelling would wake the other soldiers. “Who came to you when you would cry yourself to sleep at night after your father beat you? Who encouraged you to marry the prince, to find the good in what you’d been given, only for you to reject it in favor of death? Who? ”

“You,” I said quietly. I couldn’t meet his eyes.

“I love you, Revna,” he said. “And you can’t do me the decency of loving me back.”

“The decency ?” Gods, had he always been this frustrating? Or was it a symptom of being a soldier? “It isn’t my job to give myself to you, Arne. You knew from the beginning this would never last. I’ve always been engaged to marry the prince. You chose to love me despite knowing it was impossible for us to be together.”

“But it wasn’t impossible,” he retorted. “If it truly was never going to happen, you wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t have refused the prince. Why did you change your mind?” He reached out, faster than I could have prepared for, and grabbed my chin, pulling my face close to his. “Is there someone else?”

I tried to pull out of his grasp, panic flooding me. Where was the gentle man I knew? Where was the boy I’d laughed with growing up, who lay in the grassy clearing with me and held me while I slept? “Let me go.”

“I asked you a question.”

“It doesn’t matter whether there’s someone else,” I exclaimed, wrenching my face from his hand. “I’m here to save my fucking people—here to save everyone , including you, who’s treated like trash by the godtouched. Is that not enough for you?”

He kicked at a dirty clump of snow, scowling. “No. It’s not enough. When will you look around and realize you’re not the only one trying to save the people they care about? I was saving you when I let you go. When I let them drag my ass out here and force a dull blade into my hands. When I killed my first godtouched. And you know what? Saving you made it all worth it.” Arne shook his head. He wouldn’t meet my eyes, which smarted with unshed tears. “Now I learn you took what I offered and threw it back in my face.”

“Don’t act like you’re somehow the only victim here,” I snarled, my own anger bubbling just below the surface, threatening to escape. “I’m under no obligation to accept your shitty offering .”

“My love is worth so little to you?”

“Stop it, Arne. I tried to love you. But we kept each other at arm’s length for too long and missed our chance. I’m sorry you’re hurting. I’m here to save our people.” At this, I took a step closer to him, forcing his eyes—hardened now, not soft and searching like they’d once been—to meet mine. “And anyone who gets in my way will see the sharp end of my sword. Including you.”

Silence stretched out between us, taut as a bowstring ready to release. Finally, he cleared his throat. “Pick a tent and hope the occupants don’t hate you. It’s the best part of being godforsaken out here.”

Arne turned and marched away, disappearing fast through the steadily falling snow.

I wrapped my arms around myself and shivered, mustering all my strength to keep from collapsing on my knees. My fury wasn’t enough to ward off the cold, but it made me numb to everything else. I fought back the tears burning my eyes. In the space of barely more than a month, Arne had hardened into a shell of his former self.

Was it my fault? Did turning him away and falling for the Hellbringer make me responsible for his cruelty?

Dwelling on that was futile now. I can’t stay out here or I’ll freeze.

My survival instinct was louder than my anger. I turned and walked ten steps into the nearest tent. As the flap closed behind me, I felt the subtle shift of bodies in the darkness. Gentle snores mixed with heavy breathing. I couldn’t see, but I sensed the tent was packed with soldiers, each laid out in their sleeping bag.

I was furious with Arne, but one thing he said was correct: I didn’t know how many of these soldiers were friendly. I couldn’t risk waking anyone. My anger turned into hot tears, and when I tried to hold them back, a lump welled in the back of my throat.

I stepped backward and bumped into the pole holding up the front of the tent. It was cold, and I braced myself and slid down it. When I was sitting, I leaned my head back and took a deep breath.

There was an ache in my chest, and as I closed my eyes, I thought of S?ren’s arms wrapped around me. The memory of his lips on mine, his fingertips tracing over my collarbones…it soothed me.

More than that though, I recalled the way we’d pushed each other to fight harder. The way he had driven me to do better with my swordplay. The way he’d cradled me to his chest a few days ago, when I was having a particularly difficult moment. The careful attention he’d given my every word.

I dozed against the post, chin pressed to my chest, only starting awake when the S?ren of my dreams reached out to brush my jawline.