Page 109 of Blood Beneath the Snow

For now, I would let the grief consume me. Let it eat me from the inside, let it crack my ribs and grow there. Tomorrow morning I would become the stoic competitor again.

When I forced myself to take a breath, the shaking faded, or at least lessened. I pushed aside the blankets covering me, except for one to wrap around my shoulders, and stumbled out of my room and into the hallway.

The torches were lit, reflecting off the stone floors. It was only a few steps to the door next to mine. I threw it open and stumbled into the room; it was identical to the one I’d left.

It looked the same as it always did: clothes strewn across the floor, the bed in the corner unmade, and the curtains drawn tight to block out the light. My tears continued to fall silently as I crept over to the bed and climbed in.

The pillow smelled like wine and childhood—like Frode. I curled up under the covers, knowing sleep was a fool’s dream at this point but hoping to at least stave off the memories of his death for a moment longer.

“Revna?” There was a dark silhouette in the doorway.

“Jac? What are you doing here?” I asked with a sniff. Blood from the bites on my knuckles crept between my fingers and dripped onto the sheets.

He moved toward me. “Couldn’t sleep.” There was a strange tremor in his voice.

When he reached the bed, he crawled under the covers with me. Only when I touched his face did I realize he was crying.

“I’m not ready to die, Rev,” he whispered. The anguish in his voice made me crack. “I’m only twenty-four. I wanted to get married. Have kids. Live a normal life. I didn’t ask for any of this.”

Not for the first time, the brutality of Bhorglid, of our own people, of the priests who claimed to speak for our gods, knocked the breath from my lungs. Jac, barely an adult, wanted to live. Wanted to disappear. He didn’t want glory or bloodshed.

“You don’t deserve any of it either,” I said, staring into the pitch-blackness. But the thought of letting him go, doing it all alone, was almost unbearable. “You don’t think we can win together? You have a powerful Lurae. The Hellbringer trained me while I was his captive—I’m not half bad with a sword or throwing knives. The two of us can take them on and still have a chance.”

“I don’t want to kill anymore.” His voice was flat, lifeless. “I’m tired of being on a battlefield. Aloisa is the goddess of the soul, of deathandlife, and yet we’re called to destroy in her name. What happened to creating? Bringing new life from the ashes?”

We lay together in Frode’s bed in silence, darkness seeping through everything. I wondered when we’d become so close, my stoic, quiet brother and me. Perhaps Frode’s last act had been to bring us together. I resisted my next words but forced myself to utter them. “What if you didn’t have to compete?”

“That’s impossible,” he scoffed. But I could hear the flicker of hope in his voice. “And besides. I can’t leave you. If you died in the arena, it would be my fault.”

He sounded wistful, and that pushed me to continue. I sat up. “No one else is more equipped to escape this than you. Disguise yourself; flee to Faste. Volkan is here, in the castle for the Trials. Have him put together a map and a list of contacts for you and then go.” Despite the prince’s ties to the Hellbringer, I hoped he would be decent enough to do Jac this favor.

The last thing I needed was another heartbreaking betrayal.

I knew Volkan had arrived at the castle earlier that day to watch the Trials. But mustering the courage to go to him and ask whether he’d known of the Hellbringer’s deception was impossible. Still, Volkan had proven himself to be good more often than not.

Jac hesitated. Then he shook his head, relaxing back into the bed again. “No. You need me to help as much as I can with Erik and Björn tomorrow. Without Frode, I’m the only thing standing between you and them.”

His words stirred a gentle smile from me. “If I die tomorrow, it won’t be because of you,” I promised him. “It will be because of Father’s cruelty. And the priests. And whichever brother strikes me down. You can make more of a difference if you survive. Go live a normal life somewhere, Jac. You’ve more than earned it.”

I was surprised to see his eyes well with tears. “I can’t leave you.”

“And I can’t watch you die.” I squeezed his hand. “If I win the Trials, come back. If Björn wins, don’t. It’s simple. Now, pack a bag and get out of here.”

He jumped up to leave but then doubled back.

“What are you—”

He pulled me into a bone-crushing hug. “Good luck,” he whispered. “I’ll miss you.”

I wrapped my arms around him, trying not to let myself cry again. “I’ll see you again, Jac. In this life or the next.”

And then he was gone.

29

Dawn found me awake, dressedin my leathers and triple-checking the straps on my armor. My hair was pulled back into a single long braid I wrapped around itself and pinned at the nape of my neck.

The castle was eerily silent. I’d expected bustling halls, servants arranging everything for the coronation tomorrow morning, but it was so quiet, I wondered if the place was empty.

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