Page 118 of Blood Beneath the Snow

My mother was screaming curses at me, so I stalked over to her. When I was close enough, I bent down where she had fallen and placed a finger over her lips. “Quiet,” I commanded, tugging on her strings, softly this time—enough to keep her jaw closed. She couldn’t open it even if she wanted to. “Your rule is over. A new era is beginning.”

One of a few Nilurae who remained in the arena stepped up to me. “My queen. We can take her to the prison.”

I glanced sideways at them. They were scrawny, underfed, and without magic. Even with a broken arm, I had no doubt my mother would overpower them. This was not a task for them.

A wave of exhaustion swept over me. It was all I could do to remain standing, to not fall on my knees and sob after the events of the day. This was all her fault. Hers and my father’s. They could have been better than those who came before them; they could have nurtured us and not started the war, come to a truce while there was still time. Instead, they chose to be vindictive and warmongering. Instead, they forced me onto the arena sands with their every decision.

And now that same arena was littered with the dead and injured.

I took a deep breath and told the Nilurae, “There will be no need.”

With a single movement of my hand, I stilled my mother’s heart. She collapsed, lifeless in the sand.

I didn’t look back.

Volkan was stepping carefully through the mess of bodies, occasionally kneeling down to heal someone. Checking pulses, offering comforting words while he did his work.

He hadn’t been in league with the Hellbringer, I decided. Not when gentleness touched his every movement. Volkan was many things, but not a soldier. Not a killer.

I strode over to him, not caring about the eyes I felt followingme. Not caring about the heaviness beginning to settle on my shoulders, in the space between my ribs, in my stomach. My knees shook slightly with every step. Hesitation radiated from the Nilurae I’d left behind me.

Why are they afraid?My thoughts felt like mud, so slowly did they slide through my mind.Isn’t this what they wanted?

The Fastian Prince noticed my approach and frowned. He’d been closing the eyes of a Nilurae man, one I recognized from nights at the Sharpened Axe but whose name I didn’t know. He stood now and asked, “Are you okay?”

“What do you think?” I hadn’t meant the words to be harsh, but when they snapped out of me, I didn’t take them back. The blood weeping from the wounds Björn had inflicted on me was now congealed, but with every facial expression I felt it crack and stretch. Did I look human anymore?

He spoke gently, the way people spoke to animals they were afraid of startling. “I think you’re injured. I think you’re losing a lot of blood. And I think you’re probably in shock from what has happened.” His eyes were full of concern, but I couldn’t muster the energy to feel grateful for him.

The Hellbringer was gone, spirited away as soon as my win was confirmed. My brothers were all dead by various hands. My parents, killed by my own.

They deserved it,I told myself as heaviness bore down on me. I was drowning in exhaustion, drowning in the last hour, drowning in blood.

The pain in my head grew until I could barely get the words out, throbbing in time with my heartbeat. “I’m fine.”

Volkan reached out to grab my arm, hoisting me upright. I blinked. I hadn’t realized I was falling.

“We need to get you home.” He threw my arm over his shoulder and wrapped his own around my waist.

My vision faded in and out. “Wait,” I gasped. “I can’t leave them.”Not like they left Frode.

Volkan glanced at the myriad of corpses behind us. The arena was littered with them, but somehow he knew exactly who I was talking about. “I’ll send someone back for Björn’s body and Erik’s ashes.”

I relaxed, and the culmination of the morning landed on me like a heavy weight. I sank into darkness and stars and nothingness.

I woke up in mybed.

My headache was mostly gone. A full glass of water waited for me on my bedside table. I grabbed for it, pushing myself up halfway, and downed the whole thing as fast as I could.

Everything ached. I let out a small groan as I tested my range of movement. Nothing felt broken, but nothing felt completely right either.

There was something on my face. I reached up to touch it and recognized the softness of bandages, placed over the cuts Björn had carved on my face. I frowned and immediately regretted it. The movement sent pain lancing through the wounds.

“I’m not sure if you remember, but you asked me not to touch those,” a wry voice said.

I looked up. Volkan sat in a chair at the foot of my bed, holding a book. He raised an eyebrow at me and grinned. “Glad to see you rejoin the land of the living.”

My hand brushed the bandages again. “I don’t remember.”

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