Page 97 of Blood Beneath the Snow

Frode didn’t say anything. I looked up to find him staring at me.

“What?”

He shook his head. “There are things I shouldn’t say here, so I’ll keep them to myself for now. But I’ll tell you exactly what I think of your time with the Hellbringer when we get home.”

It felt like someone had closed their hand around my throat. “Why bother saying it when I can see it all on your face?”

He rubbed his forehead. “Revna, I don’t think you understand the magnitude of what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

My shoulders tensed as I stood and sheathed my sword. “Where do the foot soldiers sleep?” I knew better than to think my father had set aside a bunk for me in my brothers’ tent.

Frode confirmed my assumption when he rose and pointed to a path leading out to the far edge of camp. “That way. I’ll walk you there.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

I wanted to punch him. I wanted to kick him in the groin. But, fine—let him join me. He wouldn’t get a word out of me.

I started walking, chewing my lip as I realized he could read my thoughts, so it wouldn’t matter if I didn’t say anything.

Frode chuckled behind me.

“Leave me alone.”

“What are you going to tell Arne, then?” he asked. “Or are we still not thinking about the consequences of our actions?”

“You know as well as I do Arne and I aren’t together anymore.”

For a few minutes the only sound was our steps through the snow. The silhouettes of trees towered over us, the fire in the center camp a mere glow in the distance now.

“Rev.” He grabbed my shoulder but I shook him off.

“Let go of me,” I hissed. “I won’t listen to you berate me any longer.”

“I’m not going to.” He held his hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry.”

I eyed him warily.

He sighed. “I’ve been under a lot of pressure. You don’t deserve to have that taken out on you. I trust you. And if you decided to trust the Hellbringer…then, gods help us, I trust him, too.”

I blinked. “Really?”

“Really.”

I turned and shoved my hands in the pockets of my cloak, trying to warm them. A couple more minutes of walking and the foot soldiers’ tents came into view. They were shabby, to say the least. Only a few torches were lit. Three sentries shivered in the cold.

“Not exactly war-ready, are they?” I muttered.

“The priests don’t give a damn about the lesser godtouched either,” Frode reminded me. “These soldiers are godtouched, so theywere conscripted, but they can’t do things like our family—or the Hellbringer. They can change the colors of their eyes or make someone else feel happier. Not much place for them on the war front.”

I was surprised to realize I didn’t feel sorry for them. But then again, they’d lived full, happy lives at home, never struggling for food like the Nilurae or wondering if their children would be born on the last day of the year and then sacrificed at the new year ritual. They were welcomed at the academies despite their minimal abilities. No one mistreated them simply for existing.

That’s when I heard it floating through the trees. A familiar voice singing a tune I recognized. It was a Nilurae song.

My heart dropped to the bottom of my throat. In my naivete, I’d forgotten Arne might be stationed here. He still believed I was in love with him. Frode’s comments about him made more sense now.

Shit.

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