Page 13 of Blood Beneath the Snow

I tried to raise my hand to touch the helmet, discover what it was made of, but halfway up, a throb of pain shot through my fingers. Frowning, I muttered, “Ow.”

The room was dim. The Hellbringer tilted his head slightly to study me.

The haze of dreaming refused to clear, my half-asleep state slurring my words and halting my movements. “You should just kill me. You know. If you’re really so godtouched.”

He stood silently and didn’t reply.

I groaned, wishing I didn’t have to talk to communicate. “Stupid.I don’t believe in gods. Why do they like you more than me, huh? Doesn’t make sense. I’m great.”

When was this dream going to fade to black? When would it transform into something wilder than Kryllian’s most dangerous general standing in my childhood bedroom?

Without warning, a warm hand brushed against my bruised and bloodied one. I hissed and pulled it back, rousing slightly, but he ran a hand gently through my hair and my whole body relaxed. It had been so long since someone other than Arne had touched me kindly. Since I hadn’t feared a hand on my face. My eyes shuttered closed as the Hellbringer’s fingers combed carefully through my locks, brushing out the tangles there.

“ ’S nice,” I muttered.

Eventually my injured hand lifted of its own accord and a steady, stable pressure replaced the throbbing pain. I blinked, vision hazy, to see my knuckles wrapped in thick white cloth.

I stared, my brain too sluggish to understand what it meant. How the bandage had arrived there. When I finally returned my gaze to the Hellbringer, though, he was gone.

And soon sleep dragged me fully under once more.

4

I didn’t move from my beduntil the moon rose to take its place at the height of the sky. Once my anger had faded, leaving me an empty shell, I’d dozed on and off for several hours, only interrupted by my strange dream.

This late, the castle was silent outside my door. I stretched, waiting for the pain in my hand to wake me fully, but it never did. When I lifted it to my line of sight, my breath stopped in my throat.

Thick white bandages were wrapped tightly around the wounds, keeping the swelling down and my joints in place. It didn’t take an expert to know the wrapping was medically sound—the dramatic decrease in angry throbbing told me my injuries were significantly improved.

It hadn’t been a dream at all. The Hellbringer had been here, standing in my quarters. He’d managed to make his way into the castle without being detected and sneak into my room. He’d even treated my injuries.

The most miraculous part of it all was that I remained alive.

I took a shaky breath, flexing my hurt fingers, mind spinning. It made no sense. Why would the Hellbringer have any interest in me?And more importantly, why wasn’t he in the northern wastes, where he belonged?

If he was truly after something that would win Kryllian the war, he had no reason to be haunting my room in the dead of night.

Shoving the paranoia from my mind, I slid on a pair of warm pants and a simple blouse and tied the laces of my dancing shoes. It was dark, but I knew the pair better than my own reflection. When I finished, I began the familiar routine of quietly walking the halls to the front doors of the castle. Before the war, soldiers employed as guards had crawled through every nook and cranny of the castle, forcing me to take my late-night excursions by crawling out my bedroom window and scaling the walls down three stories. Now the building was empty and silent, but unfamiliar anxiety trailed my every step.

What if the Hellbringer hadn’t left? What if he was still here, lingering in the shadowed corners, waiting for me to take my next step?

I shook my head and walked faster, trying to dislodge the thought. Maybe it wasn’t the Hellbringer who’d bandaged my hand; maybe that part truly was a dream. Frode could have easily returned after I fell asleep. Maybe I was losing my lucidity. Maybe the realization that the Fastians were arriving in the morning had tipped me over an invisible edge. Either way, I would deal with it another time. Not on my last true night with my friends.

At the edge of the courtyard, I gazed at the descending path in front of me. The stone steps plunged for an eternity, and I took a deep breath as I began my trek to Halvar’s.

The city was quiet below me, only a few lights flickering through windows in the distance. It took a few minutes to make my way down, finally stepping onto the stone path winding through the city.

The priests prowled the godforsaken end of town, using their authority to punish anyone breaking the rules they’d imposed uponthe neighborhoods. They wouldn’t dare cross me, not when the Fastians were arriving in the morning, but I avoided them all the same. It was easier to slip in and out of the shadows along the edges of buildings than have them all stare me down.

It would be a lie to say I wasn’t on high alert for the flicker of a black cloak or the carved snout of a dangerous mask peeking from behind a building. But my walk was short and uneventful. Still, I hurried, anxious to avoid trouble. Arriving at the Sharpened Axe, roof sagging and door hanging half open on its hinges, I breathed deeply to steel myself for the crowd. Drunken laughter echoed through the street, and I hugged my arms to try and keep myself warm. Through the window I caught a glimpse of Arne and Freja dancing. When they stopped to breathe before the next song started, Freja poked him in the face and he laughed, an expression of happiness he reserved only for Freja and me.

Go in. You can do it.

In the end, I didn’t have a choice. I opened the door slightly and a hand grabbed me by the wrist and tugged me into the fray, music twisting in my mind. The person who had dragged me inside pulled me into their grasp. I looked up to see Arne spinning me to the beat of the music.

I kept my footing only because I knew the steps by heart. I could do this jig in my sleep. Years of sneaking out after dark meant I had memorized all the dances, and as the tagelharpa player strummed, I lost myself in the music, shielding my injured hand from the throng.

The song ended and Arne offered me a mock bow and a raised eyebrow. I smirked at him, and he tugged on my unbandaged hand to draw me close for a kiss. Wolf whistles echoed around us, but he didn’t care.

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