Page 122 of Blood Beneath the Snow

He was silent, breathing through clenched teeth to mitigate the painful position I’d put him in. That was all it was; as much as I craved to tear him limb from limb, something stopped me. Instead, I held him frozen. Vulnerable. A state he likely knew little of.

With a sigh, I released him. He fell back into the armchair and Irolled over, facing away from him as I curled up under the blankets again. “Because I think I’ve done both now.”

I heard a different pair of feet land on the floor, evidence of Mira’s arrival. When they both left an instant later, the rage thrumming through my blood turned to gray melancholy.

32

Freja and Volkan, both withmy best interests at heart, pushed me to wait until I was further healed before holding the coronation. But I protested. With every minute we waited, the power vacuum would stretch ever wider, inviting those who took issue with my win to challenge me.

Best to cut potential rebellion off at the root.

The morning after the Bloodshed Trials was the first warm day of the year. Spring approached, and with it the subtle hints of growth. Green buds peered out of the ends of tree branches on the castle grounds. In other years, the sight would have filled me with excitement, but this morning there was no song in my step. The snow would be back to crush the coming spring without warning.

I looked at my hands as I sat in the dismal rose garden. No roses yet; only thorns.

When I had woken earlier, I’d performed what I suspected would become my new morning ritual: scrubbing my palms. They were already clean, had been since I woke after my time in the arena, but the sticky memory of blood in the creases remained.

A crown lay on the bench next to me. I didn’t look at it.Couldn’tlook at it. It was the same one Father had been wearing when I killed him. It had been thoroughly cleaned, but I feared that if I looked too closely, I would find rust-red stains in the metal pattern.

Five graves lay before me. Volkan had been true to his word and retrieved Björn’s and Erik’s remains after dropping me off at the castle. Someone—maybe Halvar—had brought my father’s and mother’s bodies back to be buried as well. Frode’s monument was only a headstone. The freshly turned earth marking the other graves was absent from his. His frozen body was buried in the snow, deep in the mountains to the north.

But now, on the bench, I pushed the thoughts of my brothers from my head. This wasn’t the time to think about them.

Anxiety continued to gnaw at my gut, as it had all morning. It persisted like the itch of the freshly forming scabs across my face. All my discipline couldn’t keep me from scratching at times. I’d removed the bandages against Volkan’s wishes, knowing it was important for my new subjects to see my healing wounds during the coronation.

I was going to fulfill a prophecy with the Hellbringer.

Swallowing the bile rising in the back of my throat, I forced myself to breathe deeply. Perhaps the two of us had already fulfilled the prophecy. Valen hadn’t mentioned any other details.

The image of the wolf skull mask flashed beneath my lids, and I shuddered. The Hellbringer was long gone, surely back in Kryllian by now.And—I set my jaw—before any damn prophecy gets fulfilled, he’s going to pay for what he’s done.

A single moment of mercy was all he’d receive from me. He shouldn’t expect more, not from a monster.

The stillness became too much to bear. I stood and moved to the barn, saddling a horse, the crown hanging around my arm. All the while, I ignored the feeling of something heavy weighing on mystomach. Something new, impossible not to notice. The faint hum of magic.

I grimaced. Magic I wasn’t supposed to have.

The ride down the mountain was quiet. I took the back roads to Halvar’s, knowing most of the city streets would be full of townspeople walking to the burned-down temple for the coronation. I’d decided it was as good a place as any to hold the ceremony. After all, my rule would be built on the ashes of the priests who’d come before me—the ones who ran in fear the moment my power was truly revealed.

Stopping by the Sharpened Axe was going to make me late. But it didn’t matter—I wouldn’t survive this without a drink.

Wind tossed my hair behind me until I rode to a stop around the back of the run-down tavern. When my hand pushed the door open, it felt as if nothing had changed.

Halvar stood at the bar, wiping glasses with a cloth. He didn’t look up when I closed the door behind me.

“Grab me a drink?” I asked. My shoes clacked with every step. The long, elegant gown I’d chosen was composed of light layers of red fabric draped into a long train. It was long sleeved and pulled back from my shoulders in a square neckline. The edges of each piece of fabric were lined with golden thread, and as much as I didn’t love dressing up, I couldn’t deny the thrill I felt when the dress shimmered in the light.

Halvar didn’t answer. He continued his task silently, eyes refusing to meet mine.

I studied him. Dark circles hovered under his eyes. There was a mark on his lip from where it had been gnawed incessantly. He stared, unfocused, at a wall next to me.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

No answer.

“I came to get drunk before my own coronation,” I said with a chuckle. Nerves began to claw through my stomach as he remained quiet. “But I was also thinking you should come to the castle after the ceremony. Help me start planning. Freja and Volkan will be there. We can pass the first legislation together, maybe ban the priests from returning. And then reach out to the Queen of Kryllian about ending the war…” I let my voice trail off.

Halvar closed his eyes and let out a sigh. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse. “Get out of my pub.”

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