Page 9 of Blood Beneath the Snow (Blood & Souls Duology #1)

9

It was the dead of night, and Volkan was sitting in the hallway outside my bedroom.

I paused in pulling my cloak over my shoulders and whispered, “What are you doing here?”

He stood, tilting his head back and forth to get a crick out of his neck. “I wanted to check in on you after the party, but I only barely managed to get away. Thought you might be sleeping. Couldn’t let you leave for the war front without saying goodbye, though.”

Cloak fastened, I rushed forward to wrap my arms around him. He seemed surprised but hesitantly returned the gesture. “What happens to you?” I asked. “Will your parents continue negotiations with my mother?”

“Most likely,” he said. “Though they’re no closer to deciding tonight. We’ll presumably stay a few more days until your mother finds something valuable enough to satisfy my parents and then head back home. With Kryllian skirting closer to our borders…” His voice trailed off and he shook his head, stepping back from my embrace. “They’re terrified of the Hellbringer. Everyone is. I don’t blame them.”

“I don’t either.” I bit my lip, thinking of the masked figure I’d seen three times now. Even if he was a figment of my imagination, he felt utterly real and overwhelmingly terrifying.

Instead of voicing my thoughts aloud, I turned to the other point Volkan had mentioned. “If you finish negotiations soon, we likely won’t see each other again.” I tried to hide the sadness in my voice. A few days earlier, Volkan had been the last person in the world I wanted in Bhorglid. Now I was mourning his loss. In that short time, our worlds had been upended.

Together, we’d changed our futures.

“I’m planning to travel back to watch the Trials, at least,” he said. “In the interest of strengthening the relationship between our countries, I think my parents will agree it’s a good move. When the monarchy changes hands, they’ll want to make sure the new ruler has every intention of upholding the agreement.”

I hummed. “If Bjorn is the successor…watch your back.” The words felt loaded, and I glanced over my shoulder in the direction of my brothers’ closed doors, as if they might be able to hear me.

“I have every faith the crown will land on your head,” he said. “Write to me from the front if there’s anything I can do, understand?”

“Of course.”

Volkan seemed to suddenly realize I was preparing to leave. “Where are you headed?”

“To Halvar’s. I can’t leave without saying goodbye.”

Volkan nodded. “Tell him farewell from me, too.”

When I reached The Sharpened Axe, all was quiet. Even the late-night crowd had departed. In the east, the sky was swiftly lightening from inky darkness to navy. I had to hurry if I was going to make time to tell Freja I was leaving, too.

Halvar was asleep when I arrived, but I didn’t hesitate to let myself in and rouse him from slumber. Despite his age, he moved as swiftly as ever, and I sighed when I found a knife pressed to my throat.

When his eyes adjusted to the dark, he relaxed. “What are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night.”

“I’m going to the war front tomorrow,” I said, rubbing the nick he’d left on my jugular. A tiny drop of blood smeared on my finger. “Can you take care of Freja while I’m gone?”

“The war front?” He sat down heavy on the bed. “Why? Did they not let you into the Trials?”

I grimaced. “Oh, they did. But now I have to prove I can endure the war if I want to be queen. Father is insisting; I’m not sure why.”

“Probably wants to get you killed before you end up competing.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I’ll keep tabs on Freja, visit her as often as I can. But in the meantime, you stay safe out there. The war front is not kind to godforsaken.”

“I know.” The hilt of my sword was comforting in my fingers. I rubbed the worn leather wrapped around it, wishing I wasn’t so damn frazzled. The night’s events ran through my brain over and over, the constant loop keeping my heartbeat elevated. I wouldn’t have been able to sleep even if I tried. “And you’ll work on things with the rebellion, too? Have the godforsaken ready to fight by the time the Trials roll around?”

“You can trust me.” Halvar put a fist over his heart. “The godforsaken will be ready for you. Ready for their queen.”

I relaxed slightly. “In that case, I’m off to say goodbye to Freja.”

I stepped back out into the street, the wind scraping cold fingers against my skin. I forced myself to think of Freja and Arne. Every move I made since the night of Freja’s arrest was to help my friends.

Arne was likely on his way to the front already. The soldiers left in the dead of night, the darkness keeping knowledge of our regiment’s full numbers out of Kryllian hands. He could be halfway there, entirely unknowing that I’d be joining him shortly.

I exhaled. He was going to be furious if we ran into each other out there. I wondered how the army was split up; maybe we’d be stationed in different camps. If I was lucky, he wouldn’t find out what I’d done until it was too late.

I steeled myself, preparing to continue to my next stop, but when I looked up, a pair of dark, wood-carved eyes stared back at me from down the road. I stilled.

His dark clothes stood out starkly against the pale snow. The carved wolf skull mask, stained so dark it was almost black, bared its teeth menacingly. But the Hellbringer didn’t move. He didn’t strike, or pull out a weapon, or even take a step toward me. He simply stared.

A glance told me all the priests who usually patrolled this area were nowhere to be found, despite claiming they did their jobs at all hours of the day. And yet, I couldn’t believe I was the only one seeing this. Surely someone would peer through their curtains and acknowledge Kryllian’s deadliest general standing in the middle of Bhorglid’s capital city. Surely someone would walk out of a nearby shop and let out a scream of fear.

The most surprising thing of all was how calm I felt. No panic rose inside of me, no wariness. Even the anger I’d lashed out at him with yesterday lay dormant. Only a mild fascination stirred in my chest, as if the part of my brain controlling my fear response had turned off.

“Is this real?” I muttered. “What could you possibly be looking for that would make you hound me so relentlessly?”

He didn’t answer. I peered at the eyes carved into the mask, wondering how well he could see me. Wondering if he realized covering his body from head to toe with fabric was a very priestly thing to do.

I sighed. Every part of me was tired. “If you’re going to kill me, get it over with,” I continued. “I’m the least interesting person here.”

“Are you?”

I startled slightly at his response. Three times I’d seen him before, but this was the first I’d heard him speak.

By the gods, this was…definitely real. His boots sank slightly into the snow where he stood, proof of his existence, and my eyes widened. There was no imagining the low, distorted voice emerging from the helmet.

I took a step back. My face had to be as pale as the snow around me. Where yesterday I’d been fearless, explosive emotions pushing past the logic screaming at me to cower from him, now I was all too conscious of how swiftly he could end my life.

“Yes,” I whispered, aware my hands were shaking. Placing one on the hilt of my sword did nothing to calm my nerves. “Leave me alone.”

He tilted his head but didn’t move. “Very well,” he said finally. “I’ll be seeing you soon.”

With that, he turned and walked away. I gaped after him. Striding down the streets of the city like he belonged here.

“This isn’t real,” I said, pressing my palms to my eyes and rubbing hard. “This can’t be real.”

I opened my eyes and reached out a hand, prepared to call him to a stop and ask him why he was following me of all people, but he was gone. The street was empty.

But when I looked closer, the snow where he’d been standing was still pressed down into the shape of two boot soles.

Real.

A priest stepped out from an alleyway to stand at his usual post. When he noticed me staring, he twirled his scythe menacingly. It was enough to spur me into action, and I walked toward the path leading to the prison, my thoughts swirling.

What the hell was happening?

A light dusting of snow was strewn across the ground, as though the gods had considered coating it but given up halfway through. Thoughts of the Hellbringer plagued me, but I forced them away when I passed through the prison’s front doors. Freja was worried about enough—I didn’t need to tell her the most dangerous man in Kryllian was haunting me.

Though I couldn’t fathom why, especially when he was supposedly here on a far more important mission for his country.

The guards let me in without a word. I was grateful not to have to search every nook and cranny for Freja this time around. Instead, I went straight to her cell and sat cross-legged in front of it.

“Revna.” She sounded exhausted but smiled when she moved into the light. “It’s nice to see a familiar face. The walls are getting boring.”

I grinned, and when she sat across from me, I reached a hand through the bars to grasp hers. “I have good news,” I said. “I’ve come up with a plan to get you out of here.”

She shook her head. “I already told you, I’m not running.”

I took a deep breath. “I declined the engagement. I’m competing in the Bloodshed Trials.”

Freja’s mouth opened and then closed again. Finally, she managed to get a word out. “How?”

I told her about the engagement party, about the Fastians threatening to revoke their support, and the plan Volkan, Halvar, Frode, Jac, and I had come up with. When I finally finished speaking, she had her face in her hands.

I took a deep breath. The prison was still and silent, and I knew there must be other inmates and guards listening. For a moment my only thought was gratitude that the prison itself was impenetrable. Even if it meant I couldn’t break Freja out, it also meant no one here could tell Father of my plan to ally with Frode and Jac.

“You’re an idiot,” Freja said at last, voice muffled. She lifted her head out of her hands to glare at me. “I cannot believe you could be so stupid.”

Stung, I raised an eyebrow. “Doing what I can to rescue you and free the godforsaken is stupid?”

“Yes!” she exploded. “Yes, Revna! You’re going to die, do you understand? What the hell am I supposed to do then? When you and Arne are both bodies in caskets?”

I pushed myself back, withdrawing my hand from between the bars. I didn’t try to hide my hurt—Freja knew me well enough to pick up on it regardless. “You don’t know that. With Frode and Jac on my side, we stand a good chance of winning.”

“Against Erik?” she argued. “Bjorn? Your brothers are ruthless. They are powerful . They will corner you and show no mercy.”

“Have a little faith.” Why had I come here? My best friend couldn’t even offer me her support when I was doing all of this—every bit—for her. I’d been foolish to hope she’d be happy about this; to hope she would encourage me, be proud of my efforts. “Jac and Frode are powerful, too.”

“And what happens if they turn against you?” She stood and paced, irate. “Are they sincere in wanting you as queen? What happens if the three of you are left standing and the priests kill you all in an instant?”

My nails dug into my palms as I resisted the urge to hit something—anything. “Do you think I haven’t thought this through?”

“Yes!” she cried, throwing her hands in the air. “I know you, Revna. You have dreams of a better world, but you don’t seem to realize the cost. And most of the time you act without thinking. I love that about you; don’t get me wrong. But to sign up for your own death on the slight chance you’ll win the throne? What would you even do if you became queen?”

“Make a fucking difference.” My temper, steadily heating to a boil beneath my skin, finally bubbled to the surface. “You think half the people in this prison are here because they actually committed crimes? You think the godforsaken deserve to be killed by the priests again and again, helpless against the godtouched? I know you’re scared. So am I. But I’m tired of letting fear rule my every decision. For the first time I have the chance to make a change for the better. And gods be damned if I don’t take it.”

I pushed to my feet, brushing sand and dirt from my clothing. “I came here hoping you would be excited for me. That this might bring you a bit of hope, knowing I’m doing what I can to get you out of here, to keep you from rotting in prison until you die. I likely won’t be visiting you again until after the Trials—Father is bringing me to the front lines, since I’m competing now.” I swallowed thickly. “This is goodbye.”

“I didn’t ask you to do this,” she whispered. “I don’t want you to die for me. But it seems I don’t get a say in the matter anymore.”

Each footstep felt heavy as I took my leave.