Page 32 of Blood Beneath the Snow

I wondered what they said now. Anger burned in my blood.

My father placed a hand on my shoulder. I kept a straight face, even as he hissed under his breath, “Be on your best behavior.” Heat flared from his palm. I tightened my jaw, pulling away from his grasp.

“It is time for the engagement ceremony to begin.” My father’s voice boomed over the crowd, which immediately fell silent. “Revna.”

My thoughts swirled like a storm, and I wished they would stop. The crowd stared me as if I had a contagious disease. The golden buttons on my father’s long red coat glinted in the light. All attention was on us.

“Tonight,” he bellowed, “we are here to celebrate the union of two nations.”

I closed my eyes. This was going to work. I was going to take back my power. My father had made a mistake when he decided to use me as a pawn, and this would prove it.

“My daughter is to be engaged to the Prince of Faste,” he continued.

“No.”

My voice echoed through the silent room, and for a long moment time stood still. Then the whispers began in a flurry, gasps bursting through the crowd. The satisfaction flowing freely through my veins felt better than when I’d slammed my fist against a wall two nights ago. It was a high unlike any I’d experienced before. I turned to face my father.

His face was the same shade of dark red as his hair. “Revna,” he growled, “you will do what you promised.”

I dug my nails into my palms, a wicked smile slashing its mark across my features. “I didn’t promise anything. You did. You tried to steal my life to fight a war we don’t deserve to win. But you made a mistake when you chose to stake your plans on me. I have the upper hand now. And I will not marry Volkan.”

Without any warning, my mother collapsed. Erik stepped forward in time to catch her and place her down gently, unconscious. Against the light stone floor, she looked like a ghost, her hair fanning out in stark contrast.

The King and Queen of Faste grabbed Volkan by the arms to pull him away from me. He kept his eyes on me, his face carefully neutral.

“You’ve caused too much trouble,” my father hissed, and the blade of a knife gleamed, hidden in his closed fist. He would kill me for this—he truly would.

But I raised a hand and he stopped. “Kill me and there is no alliance,” I reminded him. Hesitation gleamed like fire in his eyes. “Here’s my offer: let me compete for the throne in the Bloodshed Trials. If I yield, then I lose, and I will marry Volkan. But if I win…” I shrugged. “The crown will be mine.”

The crowd was eerily silent for a heartbeat.

My father erupted. “Out!” he screamed, and the crowd jumped. “Everyone out!”

People forced their way toward the exit in a giant mass. I stoodon the dais surrounded by my family but completely alone as the crowd departed.

When the giant doors swung closed, my father turned to me again. “You,” he hissed. “Howdareyou question my authority. How dare you presume you have the power to break an alliance. You arenothingand you will do as I say.”

The King of Faste interrupted. “You dare slight us this way, girl?” His voice was cold as he turned to my father. “We agreed to take your daughter and feed your people despite her being Nilurae and your war being nothing but a petty religious crusade. Our son is not a beggar to be spurned. He is a prince.”

I swallowed the lump rising in my throat, the panic tightening in my chest. No alliance meant no leverage against my father. It meant if I didn’t win the Trials, then Kryllian would win the war.

Frode shot me a look, and I wished I knew what he was thinking. I pretended I did, inserting the words I wanted to hear:No alliance is a good thing. It will work in our favor. Press your advantage while you have it.

The King of Faste continued. “If you wish to continue our alliance, then renegotiations are in order. Swiftly, too. I will not keep feeding a nation that offers us nothing.”

“Father,” Volkan muttered, visibly uncomfortable. “It’s fine. We need their troops, remember?”

“It’s not fine,” his mother snapped. “We need protection, yes. What’s to keep us from forming an alliance with our eastern neighbors instead? Surely they have more to offer than an ungrateful brat for our son.” She glared at my father. “We will return in the morning for renegotiations. You better have something of greater value to offer us than this farce of a marriage deal.” The queen inclined her head at me, then turned, her dress fanning out behind her. She and her husband dragged their son off the dais.

Volkan managed to glance back at me as he was pulled away. The determination in his eyes was clear as day—the closest he could get to wishing me luck.

We waited in silence until the ballroom doors slammed shut behind the retreating royals, the sound echoing through the room.

My father let out a guttural scream and lunged, his hands aimed at my throat.

I tried to run, scrambling not to trip in my dress. My feet tangled in it regardless, and I stumbled off the dais, falling face-first toward the ground.

The shock of my weight landing on my palms sent a jolt through my forearms, but nothing seemed damaged. My father scrambled to try to get around Jac, who had transformed into a huge wolf covered in fur and sporting teeth sharp enough to slice through bone.

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