Page 21 of Blood Beneath the Snow

My brows flew up. We’d stopped walking, Frode hanging limply between us. Of all the scenarios I’d pictured, my fiancé being gay was not one of them. Especially when, despite all of Bhorglid’s flaws, queer people were commonplace. Halvar liked men, Freja was asexual, and even I often eyed women with more than simple appreciation. One of Arne’s fathers was transgender. “But…why would they force you to marry me?”

The prince’s smile was sad. “When I was old enough to realize what it meant to like boys, I thought I could do the country a favorby speaking with my parents about it. Encouraging them to change their ways. You can see how my plan turned out.”

“They forced you into an arranged marriage.” Hiding the horror in my voice was impossible.

My fiancé shrugged. “I’ve come to terms with it. None of this is your fault. I only tell you this much because, first, I want to be upfront and honest about the nature of our future marriage, and second, because you’re not the only pawn here. We’re both being used.”

I let out a shuddering breath. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Volkan’s laugh was surprisingly bright. “I certainly hope not.”

We walked in silence until I pushed open Frode’s bedroom door. The room itself was a mess, with clothes strewn everywhere. The bed was unmade, and the stench of vomit drifted from the bathroom. I pulled the neckline of my dress around my nose and Volkan took Frode from me.

As Volkan laid him down on the bed, Frode called out for me, his words slurred together.

I came to his bedside and squeezed his hand. “If you were trying to get out of all your responsibilities, you did a phenomenal job,” I told him with a laugh. “Father will definitely leave you alone today.”

Frode laughed, sounding like a child. “Hey,” he said, tugging on my sleeve. I leaned in to hear what he mumbled. “You’d be a good queen. Way better than Björn.”

Instantly, my brother fell into a deep sleep, and his snores reverberated around the closed room. I put my finger over my lips and Volkan followed me out. The door was silent as I latched it behind us.

You’d be a good queen.

“Your brother clearly cares deeply for you,” Volkan mused as we began a slow return to the sitting room. Neither of us was anxiousto get there quickly. “I hope one day you will be a good queen, when we rule Faste together.”

I flicked my gaze at him briefly. His face was open and sincere, dark eyes warm—but disappointment pooled in my stomach at his words all the same. “No offense, Your Highness, but being queen of a country I don’t belong to doesn’t sound very enticing.”

His throat bobbed with a swallow. “No,” he murmured. “It doesn’t, does it? Apologies.”

I shrugged, rubbing the heavy fabric of my skirts between my fingers. “Seems we were both raised for higher purposes we don’t agree with.”

We reached the sitting room doors once more. Volkan’s smile was sad now, emotions I couldn’t interpret flickering over his expression. “It does seem that way.”

We were quiet for a moment before he continued. “I know things won’t ever be perfect between us,” he said. “I won’t lie to you and say I could love you—not in the way a marriage should entail. But you seem like a good person. I’m not going to keep you on a leash after we’re married.”

I turned to look at him, tilting my head. Of all the qualities I’d considered my fiancé having, kindness had never crossed my mind. The political world was ruthless, and I expected him to be the same. But maybe he was different.

“The same applies to you,” I said, trying to act nonchalant about the matter. “If you have someone else you care for, I won’t stand in the way.”

I wanted him to tell me if there was someone else, but he sidestepped my unspoken question. “We’d better get back,” he said, holding open the door to the sitting room.

I entered, and all eyes turned to me. As Volkan and I took our seats and the political chatter resumed, I couldn’t help but feel a twist of guilt in my chest.

My marriage wouldn’t be bad. I’d go on to live a life of near freedom. But in exchange I would have to leave Freja behind as a prisoner and Arne on the front lines as a sacrifice to the holy war.

I took a deep breath. There was no way to win; my father had ensured it when he planned out my use.

6

My parents had invited theFastian royalty to accompany us to our temple ceremonies, but it was a formality more than anything else. Fastians worshiped no gods, their people choosing to eschew the idea of religion after Callum and Arraya’s initial attempt at taking power over the Fjordlands.

I didn’t blame the king and queen for refusing the invitation. If staying home wouldn’t incur the wrath of my mother, I would have done it in a heartbeat. Volkan, however, had chosen to come along. “Out of respect for my soon-to-be bride,” he’d explained.

I’d nearly vomited at the word bride being used to describe me but accepted his generosity without comment. If he wanted to watch the priests berate me for my very existence, that was his choice.

The eight of us rode through a dusting of snow to the southern outskirts of the city, where a small temple had been built for our family. It looked nearly identical to the one in the square I’d been at yesterday morning. The only difference was the size. Where the temple in the square could host hundreds of people, our family’s personal temple was only big enough for ten worshipers.

Despite its small size, the structure remained tall. If you climbed on top of it, you’d be tall enough to see the southern sea stretchingbetween Bhorglid and Kryllian. I knew because I tried it when I was twelve. It took a priest with the godtouch of flying to get me back to ground level.

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