Page 51 of Blood Beneath the Snow

The teleporting soldier vanished as quickly as she had appeared, not sparing me a glance as she left my captor there. The hideous mask turned to face me, and I tried to keep my face blank. There was something about the carvings in the wood—the teeth and the hollow eye sockets—that made me squirm.

“You could have been practicing.” The dark voice was calmer than it had been when he left, and I relaxed. I hadn’t known what kind of mood the Hellbringer would offer when he returned. So far, his anger hadn’t scared me, but only because I wasn’t afraid of death. Now knowing he couldn’t kill me, I feared other forms of torture awaited me.

“I could barely stand for several hours,” I pointed out.

He shrugged and caught sight of the table, strewn with the now-empty jars. “Hungry?” he asked.

Was there a hint of sarcasm in his voice? I tried not to turn red. “Clearly.”

“Good. I brought dinner.” He pulled a package wrapped in papery canvas out from beneath his cloak. Wet spots soaked the wrapping, obviously not made by water. He strode over to the bed and kicked out the box I’d been rummaging through earlier to grab aheavy cast iron skillet and set it in the fireplace, on a metal shelf I hadn’t noticed until then.

He peeled off his black gloves to unwrap two bright red steaks, which he tossed onto the pan. They sizzled and my stomach growled at the scent. When he wiped his hands on a cloth, I noticed his palm bore the wounds from where he had grabbed my sword. Had he not seen a Healer?

I curled my legs underneath me on the bed. “I have to say, I’m glad we aren’t going to be eating nuts and berries the entire time I’m here.”

The Hellbringer didn’t respond, simply replaced his gloves with a pair from the armoire and grabbed some spices from the shelves, seasoning the meat profusely.

You’re a prisoner,I reminded myself.Not a guest or a friend. Not even an acquaintance.

I savored every bite of the meal when it was ready. Steak was a rarity in Bhorglid, with cows being such a precious commodity. The last time I’d eaten steak had been almost ten years ago, for Erik’s eighteenth birthday. I dreamed about it frequently.

When I finished my meal, the Hellbringer stood. “Take your weapon,” he ordered. “We keep training.”

I did as he asked. “How long is this whole training program supposed to be?” I stood in the ready stance, immediately on guard.

He sighed, dropped his own stance, and came over to adjust my feet again. “If it were up to me,” he said as his warm hands moved my boots and legs, “you would already be gone.”

Sleep evaded me. The Hellbringerand I had trained in near silence for the rest of the evening, speaking only when he needed to adjust my form or instruct me to swing differently. I had the feeling my time in captivity was going to be long, arduous, and lonely.

No matter. I was used to being ignored at home. This should be no different.

So why couldn’t I stop thinking about my captor?

Reaching a hand beneath my pillow, I rubbed my thumb against the crowbar I’d discovered when I searched the room earlier. The closest thing to a lockpick. It would have to do. Next time I had the chance to wander, I’d make my way back to the locked door and try to get out that way. If my limited sense of direction was correct, the door wasn’t too far from this room.

My mind conjured an image of being caught breaking out—of being brought back here and tied to a chair, tortured in some nameless way that left me screaming.

I rolled over in the bed, now facing away from the Hellbringer, and pushed the thought away.

There. If I couldn’t see him, that would help.

The events of the day simmered in my mind: Kryllian royalty helping me succeed to the throne of Bhorglid. I’d tried to find a loophole, hoping to discover the trick proving it was a trap, but I couldn’t. At least, not yet.

The Queen of Kryllian wanted to help me win the Bloodshed Trials. All because she wanted me on the throne so we could negotiate a truce. It was too good to be true.

I didn’t know anything about Kryllian politics. Did they want to end the war? Or did she believe by putting a godforsaken ruler in place, she would be able to conquer Bhorglid more easily?

I wouldn’t become a pawn for a power-hungry ruler again.

Stuck here, investigating the queen’s true motives was impossible. I had no clue what things were like in Kryllian. My father’s judgments couldn’t be trusted and the Hellbringer wasn’t exactly unbiased.

If she was so desperate for me to win the Trials, why did the Hellbringer have to be the one who trained me? Surely she had dozens ofsoldiers good enough. And instead of sending a capable one, she sent one who was utterly deadly.

And incredibly irritating.

Could he teach me to be anything but a murderer? Or was this going to turn me into a monster, too?

I did believe one thing he said, though—he was not going to kill me. He’d had the chance plenty of times and yet here I was. Why would he have waited this long if the plan was to murder me?

---