Page 117 of Blood Beneath the Snow

He struggled against the force holding him back. He didn’tspeak, only clenched his teeth from his place against the wall. My next pull was upward and I noticed blood flushed his face. He grabbed his head and screamed in pain.

His blood. I was controlling his blood. It sang to me.

It was as if I had done this a million times before. I crossed my arms so my wrists were in line and then pulled my elbows back with one sharp motion.

The crack of my father’s neck breaking echoed through the arena.

Mother screamed. It echoed from the platform where she stood, safe from the battle, protected by the royal contingent of priests who stood guard around her. The sound seemed to break through the chaos somehow, and heads turned to see the king lying dead on the arena floor, his body one of many now.

In death, he was nothing more than a man.

The former queen pointed to the priests standing on either side of her. “Seize her!”

But they didn’t move. Two in the front glanced at each other before slowly shaking their heads.

My hands shook. Why? Why weren’t they moving?

Loyalty to their new queen?

Or were they afraid of me?

My eyes widened as it all hit me.

I was Lurae.

My mother sent a sharp spear of ice straight toward me. No part of my body felt like my own anymore; it was as if someone else controlled my every move as I stepped out of the way, then reached out until I felt my fingers connect with something no one could see.

The singing began again, low and beautiful.

I closed my hand, making a fist. Without warning, Mother’s arm shattered, just like Father’s had moments ago.

She screamed, bone breaking through the skin, blood flowing over her arm.

Waddell didn’t move from his place with my father’s guard. His face was pale, wan.

The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. When I looked around, Halvar was staring at me.

Battles continued around us, but they seemed to fall quiet. His face, often gruff but always filled with love, was twisted in an expression I’d never seen him turn on me before. But I recognized it from a lifetime of living with people who despised me.

Disgust.

There was another layer too, one I wasn’t as familiar with: fear.

The emotions warred on his face, which was now pale. Blood was spattered across his visage, and I moved to take a step toward him.

He took a matching step back.

“Halvar?” I muttered, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hear me over the distance.

“Retreat!” The cry shook me from my stupor and I turned to find who was yelling. My eyes lit on one of the priests in the royal retinue, voice magnified by what had to be magic. “Holy Order, retreat!”

As one, the priests began to flee, rushing for the exit.

I turned back, but Halvar was gone. I heard him over the stampede, yelling at the other Nilurae to pursue the escapees, to capture but not kill. The silencers had fled, but I knew they must still be close, otherwise the priests would be fighting back with a vengeance. I wasn’t sure where they were going, but they’d more than likely find a place to regroup and return to wreak more havoc.

I grabbed the arm of a Nilurae woman jogging past me. “Tell Halvar to burn the temples,” I instructed. “By order of the queen.”

Emotions warred on her face: awe, trust, and fear. Only as shestepped away with a nod did I realize I’d left a bloody handprint on her sleeve.

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