Page 34 of Blood Beneath the Snow

My mind was drowning with the events of the past two days. Volkan, so much kinder and far more trustworthy than I’d anticipated; Freja, asking me to leave her in prison; Arne, ready to go to war; me, putting my life on the line for my friends. “When do you report?”

“First thing in the morning. Are you…” He glanced at his feet, cleared his throat. A tinge of red brushed his cheeks. “How was the engagement ceremony? What are you doing out here so late?”

I opened my mouth, then closed it again wordlessly. My thoughts swarmed like insects. Arne didn’t know I had turned down the proposal and secured a place in the Trials; when it had come time toformulate the plan, including him hadn’t crossed my mind. He was leaving, after all. There was nothing he could do from the front.

There was nothing I would be able to do from the front either.

The words were on the tip of my tongue, but at the last moment I held them back. I didn’t want him to know. I wanted him to treat me the same for a moment. Especially when I knew he would never forgive me for my decision. Where Volkan, Halvar, and Frode were proud of me for standing up to Father, for making a change that would benefit the godforsaken, Arne would only be upset.

“I was…trying to clear my head. Take everything in.” The words weren’t even a lie.

He pulled me into a hug. I pressed my face into the wool coat, inhaling the scent of new fabric, trying to hold back tears. Arne and Freja were the only good things I had. And in the morning, they would both be gone forever unless I managed to win the Trials.

Memories bombarded me. Arne and me stargazing in our secret clearing while he whispered his fears to me; how his fathers loved him but he wasn’t sure why they should if his birth parents gave him up willingly; clutching each other a little tighter after my own father had beaten me particularly badly; the very first time we met, when we were both eleven and his big, dark eyes had taken me in with curiosity and not the disgust I was used to. His departure marked the end of whatever flame had flickered between us. It was hard to feel grateful while I feared for his life.

His breath ghosted over the shell of my ear and I shivered. “What if we ran?” he whispered. “What if we left—right now? Stole two horses and disappeared.”

I stiffened, pulling back. “We can’t leave.”

Arne blinked. “But we could be together. Don’t you want that?” His next words shone on his face before he said them. “Revna, I love you.”

My mouth went dry.

My worst fear was confirmed. His love was like a flame against the pure snow covering Bhorglid all year: bright and hot and impossible to deny. He’d shown it in every dance, every brush of hands, every kiss, every moment of intimacy we’d shared. And yet I’d clung to him selfishly, only wishing for something to keep for myself, someone to be safe with while I waited to meet my inevitable fate.

A chasm opened in my chest, threatening to swallow me whole. Arne stood reaching for me on the other side, but no matter how desperately I attempted to bridge the gap, I knew futility when I saw it. I longed to wrench my heart in his direction, force it to obey. I wanted to want him. Why couldn’t I? Who gave my foolish heart the right to deny him and me what we both deserved?

It certainly wasn’t me.

Arne swallowed. “Do you love me?”

The words took their time coming. Telling him the truth…could mean losing him forever. A loss more permanent than physical separation: bitterness. The end of our friendship. I pulled my hands from his warm grasp, unable to meet his eyes.

Silence fell like an ocean between us.

As the seconds ticked by, something changed in his face. Was it the excitement blinking out of his eyes? The subtle hardening of his mouth? The way his next exhale made him shudder, like the cold was seeping through his coat?

“I can’t leave,” I protested. “Not when Freja is still here. Not when my father would kill her if I disappeared.”

He took a step back. “I understand.” There was a hollow note in his voice.

I reached out a hand. “Arne, please—”

“No.” His bright blue eyes were like daggers. “No. It’s better if this is the end. I know what you’re doing. I know you’re trying to spare me the pain.”

I wanted to groan, wanted to shake his shoulders until he understood. Arne deserved a woman who’d drive a blade through the heart of all who threatened him. Not me, unable to give him everything when my heart still rested in other places—Freja’s safety, the freedom of the godforsaken, and the Trials were barriers I couldn’t tear down even if I wanted to.

But instead of arguing, I used my hands on his shoulders to pull him in for a blistering kiss.

Our mouths collided and it wasn’t sweet or gentle, not the way it had been every other time before. Yet it was so incredibly Arne—exposing the depths of his emotions that he would always say but never express.

We kissed and kissed and I waited, hoping desperately for some spark. Some proof that maybe I did love him after all.

It never came.

But what did was the familiar press of him, hard against me through his pants and my dress. His hands shook slightly as he pushed my hair away from my neck to press his lips there. “One last night?” Arne’s voice was hesitant, his eyes pleading when they met mine.

After all the firsts we’d fumbled through together, he was an intrinsic part of me. I might not feel the same way about him, but his soft-spoken words still made me long for him.

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