Page 45 of Blood Beneath the Snow

For a minute the Hellbringer didn’t move. Perhaps he was sleeping, his eyes closed beneath the mask. I shut my eyes tight and opened them again, half hoping the scene around me would dissolve, replaced by snow-covered mountains and green pines.

It was useless. I swallowed the sour taste of anguish in my mouth, the memory of the day before. Had it only been one day?

“Good, you’re awake.” The deep voice echoed against the walls and the masked, black-clad figure stood and turned to face me. “Are you ready to begin?”

Sitting up, I glanced at him, then began re-braiding my hair tightly to my scalp. One stray lock, too short to stay back, fell in front of my eyes. “Begin what, exactly?”

He strolled to the hooks on the wall. I watched with morbid curiosity as he drew his sword from its sheath. Holding it up in thetorchlight, the Hellbringer studied the flame reflected back at him. “Training.”

“Training? What training?”

He extended his sword to point to where mine rested next to me on the bed. I’d kept my hand tight around the hilt while I slept, in case he tried anything. Not that I could do much against his godtouch. Surprisingly enough, he kept true to his word—he hadn’t attempted to kill me so far.

“Combattraining?”

He nodded once, beckoning me to stand. I didn’t move. Surely there was an ulterior motive here. Until I understood his endgame, I wasn’t willing to play along.

“Why would you train me?” I asked, folding my arms across my chest. “We’re on different sides of the war.”

He chuckled, and the sound reverberated through my bones. “Not for much longer,” he said. “My queen hopes to make a truce with your nation.”

Good luck.

“A truce? Your queen must be foolish if she thinks my father will consider anything but her surrender.”

He nodded. “Tell you what. If you train with me today, I’ll tell you why I brought you here. And everything else you want to know.”

Everything?

I frowned, wishing I wasn’t tempted by the offer. “How do I know I can trust you?”

The mask was impassive, but I swore I heard something catch in his voice as he said, “You will hear no lies from me. I promise you.”

My stomach soured at the prospect of caving to his demands, but I was too curious to remain on the bed. Despite my predicament as his captive, the Hellbringer’s words rang with sincerity. I stood, grabbing the hilt of my sword as I went.

“What is your weapon of choice?” he asked, moving forward toexamine my sword more closely. He gestured with one hand and I obliged, holding up the blade for him to study.

“Sword, I guess? Never fought with anything else.”

“May I?” I handed him the sword, hoping he didn’t kill me with it. His gloved hand dwarfed the dull steel, and I was reminded viscerally of the night before, when I’d watched his blood run down the metal. Some of it still stained the weapon, now a dull rust red. “Your blade is subpar at best. A strong strike in the right place would shatter the metal. We’ll need to find you a more suitable weapon. What do your brothers fight with?”

I swallowed down the irritation pushing to the surface. We hadn’t been at it for a whole minute and he’d already insulted the weapon I’d learned on. The one I’d chosen myself and guarded with my life. “I’ll have you know that subpar blade has saved my life on more than one occasion.”

“I don’t doubt it.” He tilted his head slightly, and I knew his focus had been drawn from the blade to me. I crossed my arms. “In many situations, the weapon matters far less than the one wielding it.”

Was that…a compliment?

It was too soon to tell. I pursed my lips, knowing my suspicion was clearly written across my face. I hadn’t answered his question, though. Eager to change the subject, I considered each of my brothers.

“Erik uses a greatsword.” I ticked them off on my fingers. “Frode has two long knives—not exactly daggers. I’m not sure what they’re called. Jac is best with a bow and arrow, but in close-range fighting he prefers to transform into a beast and use his claws as his weapons. And Björn uses a sword like mine. I think he throws daggers on occasion, too.”

I watched closely as he twisted my sword and studied the hilt. He ran a careful gloved hand over the worn leather, which had warped slightly from my years of practice with it. “We could forgeyou another kind of weapon if you’d like, but since you already have a sword, I assume you’re probably most comfortable with it.”

It wasn’t a question, but I knew he was waiting for an answer regardless. “Hard to say. I can’t imagine fighting with anything else. I know how to use the sword, though. If I needed to learn another weapon, I’d be starting from the beginning.”

He wrapped a hand around the blade again and extended the sword to me, hilt first. I took it, wondering what a newer version would look like in my hands. Whether the familiar grip of this one would be something I missed. “A sword is versatile. I think it will be your best option, considering your brothers’ weapons of choice,” he said.

“My best option for the Trials.” I rubbed a thumb against the hilt of my sword. “You know I’m competing.”

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