Page 33 of Blood Beneath the Snow

Erik went to my father, who thrashed attempting to get past Jac, and took his arm. Despite his natural strength, my father was no match for Erik. As the king continued to spit curses at me, my oldest brother attempted to defuse the situation. “Calm yourself, Father. What will the people say if they know a godforsaken has managed to derail your plans so easily? There must be a way to recover from this.”

The beast slowly shrank back into Jac once more, but Erik’s words had accomplished little. My father might not be reaching for me anymore, but he still looked like he wanted to throttle me. He continued to scream, spittle flying from his mouth.

From one of the Fastian thrones Björn studied me, twirling a dagger between his fingers while he lounged. “Father, perhaps this is an opportunity for us.”

Panting, my father grew quiet. His fine clothing smoked along the edges. I was amazed the entire room wasn’t on fire.

“If the Fastians are disappointed with little Revvy this quick, analliance with her as the glue wouldn’t have lasted long anyway. Besides, it’s easy to see how much they fear Kryllian. They’re desperate for protection, and while they might claim to have allies in the east, it’s unlikely another country will have interest in entering our conflict. I have no doubt we’ll manage to secure their cooperation when we renegotiate tomorrow.”

Björn leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he studied me, his gaze like a predator’s. “But now we have a chance to get rid of the pesky blot on our family tree once and for all. And all we have to do is let her compete like she asked.” Björn’s grin was feral.

I forced myself to think of Freja as dread filled my stomach like lead.

My father’s breathing began to slow. Jac and Frode moved to stand on either side of me, offering silent support.

Then my father began to laugh, the sound coming from deep in his throat. It echoed through the empty ballroom, a chorus of nightmares, before he finally stopped to breathe.

“Yes,” he said, pointing at me. “You think you have the upper hand? You’re godforsaken. The pantheon looks down on you, and they will show it.

“You may compete. Yielding in the Bloodshed Trials is forbidden. Either you win or you die.” He paused. “And for the sake of the gods and the future of Bhorglid, you’ll perish a horrible, painful death.”

I forced my mouth to stay shut, pushing away my snarky retort. I’d won. They were going to let me compete.

“Tomorrow morning you will report to the war front with the rest of your brothers,” he continued. I felt the blood drain from my face. “That’s right. You want to compete? Then you must prove yourself capable of leading our armies, fighting our battles. I suspect you will not have what it takes. We will see whether you are fit to be a queen.

“Now get out of my sight.” My father waved his hand with a disgusted look, then turned to lift my mother.

There was nothing left in me to speak, to acknowledge my victory, to do anything but leave the way the rest of the crowd had gone until I was once again alone under the stars.

What the hell had I done?

8

I knelt on the damp grassin despair until my bones felt frozen enough to crumble under a single touch. My teeth chattered, but the events of the night wouldn’t stop repeating in my mind over and over.

The guests had finished departing long ago. Now the courtyard was empty aside from the few priests who watched me warily from their guard posts.

“This would be so much easier if Freja were here,” I muttered. I’d expected to cry until my tears froze to my cheeks, but instead I was numb all over. The stars were out in their full glory, and I gazed at them, wishing they could help me disappear. Wondering if I’d made a mistake in agreeing to the Trials.

No,I reminded myself.Even sacrificing your own life wouldn’t be enough to repay Freja for all she’s done for you.

“Revna?” I turned and spotted a lone figure moving toward me in the dark. From a distance, all I recognized was the pressed military uniform. But the only person who would call me by my name instead of my title tonight was…

“Arne?” I straightened.

He moved closer and I nearly gasped; the black fabric of hisformal coat stretched across his shoulders, gold buttons shining on the collar and the wrists. A red sash draped from his left shoulder to his right hip.

He looked handsome. Regal. Like a prince himself.

“You look…” My voice trailed off as I pushed to my feet. For a moment the despair sitting in my chest vanished, distracted by the unexpected visitor. “I’m amazed they gave you a formal uniform.”

“I didn’t think they would either,” he said, fingers fidgeting with the buttons on his sleeves. “They seemed unsure, but I’m the first godforsaken they’ve enlisted, so there’s no rule in place.”

He glanced over his shoulder at the two white-robed priests standing guard at the top of the mountain path. Arne’s conscription had elevated him enough for the priests to let him in the gates. Odd that the very thing meant to punish him—punishme—had raised his status. Their embroidered eyes kept careful watch on the two of us, waiting to report back to my father.

Suppressing a shiver, I studied him as he ran a nervous hand through his hair. “Are you ready?”

“To try and survive?” He shrugged. “Ready as I’ll ever be. I’ve trained as much as I was able. I said goodbye to my dads before I came over.”

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