Page 16 of Blood Beneath the Snow

To distract from my morbid train of thought, I stood from the table and threw myself into the music, spinning around and around to the tempo, letting my momentum take the weight off my shoulders. Nothing freed me the way dancing did.

I spotted Arne and Freja back at the table, their heads touching as they talked, worry lines between their brows. Did Arne’s fathers mourn when they learned of his conscription? Was Freja planning to help care for his younger brother?

No,I told myself,don’t think about what happens if he doesn’t come back from the front.

Before my line of thinking could continue, the crash of the door being slammed open reverberated through the space. Many startled, hands flying to cover hearts. The music jolted to a discordant halt and those closest to the door gasped.

Catching sight of the newcomers, I scowled. Three priests stood in the doorway, filling the space so we could barely see the night behind them. They stepped in one at a time and the crowd fell silent. Their red eyes glared. A faint noise came from behind the priests. Finally, the last of them pushed through, dragging a coweringwoman with him. She sobbed, trying desperately to shrink into the background.

My heart sank. The woman had a face I recognized too well. It was Freja’s mother.

Freja pushed her way through the crowd until she stood face-to-face with the priests. They held their scythes loosely in their hands.

“Let go of her,” she growled.

I moved forward to stand behind her, my head held high. I tried never to pull rank in front of my godforsaken friends, but now was worth the exception. “I command you to let go of her,” I said. My voice shook.

The priests laughed and let go of Freja’s mother, who immediately fell to the floor, shaking. Freja ran up to her and held her close, murmuring in her ear, but her mother would not allow it. “No,” she whispered, trying to push her daughter away. “No, Freja get out of here, get out—”

But before things connected, before they made sense, one of the priests grabbed Freja’s arms and wrists and placed a flat piece of metal along them. I watched as in one swift motion the metal bent, folding into perfect handcuffs.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I asked, stepping forward. I pulled my dagger from the sheath at my waist.

The crowd behind me was silent. One of the priests spoke. “I don’t think you want to fight us, Your Highness,” he said. He raised his hand, and the blade of my dagger bent in on itself, curving toward my exposed fingers. I dropped it, swearing. “We have the authority to arrest lawbreakers.”

Arne stood next to me. I’d never been more thankful for his height—he towered over the priests, looking down on them like they were children.

“She hasn’t broken the law,” I snarled. My face flushed, only Arne’s hand on my shoulder keeping me from lunging at them.

Another priest tilted his head. “Then who disrupted the new year ritual this morning?”

“I did,” I said, but my voice shook. “You caught me this morning.” I held my hands out, wrists exposed. “Take me instead.”

They couldn’t take Freja to prison. Not when her brother was on the front lines and her mother needed her. Not when prison was hell on earth. Not when she was everything, my best friend in the world.

The priest shook his head. “Your father only wants her,” the priest said. “Besides, I wouldn’t like to be the one to tell the king I arrested his daughter, would I?” As his voice turned sarcastic, I realized this was the priest who’d caught me this morning.

My throat burned. I stepped forward. “Freja—”

She shook her head wordlessly.

“Let her go,” I protested, following them into the dark street. “Please. Don’t do this.”

Cruel laughter pierced the night sky as they mounted their horses, pulling Freja up to share a saddle with her captor, and galloped away. Freja didn’t look back.

5

The dawn light woke mefrom a restless sleep and the night rushed back in one swift memory.

Freja’s hands, wrestled behind her back. Metal twisting around her wrists. Arne half dragging me up the mountainside and wrapping me in his arms to keep my body from shaking. He’d stayed until I fell asleep. I stretched a hand out next to me, but the bed was empty, my friend long gone.

I pulled my blanket back over my face and groaned. Not a dream. A real, living nightmare.

I needed to talk to my father and convince him he’d made a mistake.

All I could imagine was Freja, her cheerful demeanor dampened as she sat in the corner of a cold cell, chained to the wall. I shivered. I wouldn’t wish prison on anyone, especially not in the winter.

This was entirely my fault. I would do anything to make it right.

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