Page 46 of Blood Beneath the Snow

The Hellbringer’s chuckle was dark. “The whole world knows by now, Princess. Now, prepare to spar.”

I took a deep breath. He was trying to bait me by calling meprincess, and it was effective. He didn’t say it like a fact, even though it was. He said it like an insult.

The worst part was that I didn’t blame him.

“I’ve already been trained, you know,” I said, facing him and planting my feet in position. My words were meant to give me confidence but had no effect. “I’m not bad.”

“Who taught you?” he asked, observing my stance. “Your feet are all wrong.”

When I knew my death was not imminent, he was much less frightening. Just annoying. “My friends.”

“Not your brothers?” He moved close to me, sheathing his sword so he could readjust my stance.

I flinched as his gloved fingers touched me. He could sense it—he stilled for a moment and the mask tilted toward me, as if to ask permission before continuing. I nodded, refusing to look at hisvisage, ignoring the whiff of pine that strayed from him. “No. Why would my brothers teach me anything?”

He must have heard the bitter note in my voice. I was grateful he was focused on my feet so I couldn’t look at the mask’s blank stare. “Your family is different than most.”

I grunted an affirmation, too annoyed to be grateful for his gentle touch. The Hellbringer stood straight again and stepped back to survey my stance. The room was significantly colder when he stood far away. “Better,” he said.

“I don’t like it,” I muttered. “It feels weird.”

“It feelsright,” he corrected.

I rolled my eyes.

“Your hands are fine,” he conceded. He spread his arms. “Now come and get me.”

I relaxed. “Is this a joke? You don’t have your weapon out. And you’re wearing no armor.”

“You would refuse the chance to run a blade through my heart?”

Yeah, right. He’d proven already that he wouldn’t let me kill him no matter how hard I tried. But I sensed a smirk under the mask and my irritation made me clench my jaw.

I lunged forward, swinging my blade with my momentum. To my surprise, it failed to connect with flesh.

He haddodgedmy swipe. Flustered, I turned.Fine. Faster, then.

I moved, nimble on my feet, my blade sailing through the air, catching the torchlight as it flew. At no point did the Hellbringer see fit to parry, much less to unsheathe his own weapon. Instead, he stepped lightly away from each attempt I made to wound him. Like a shadow slipping between flickering flames, he moved with the ease and grace of a wolf.

With every missed swing, a heavy anger formed in the pit of my stomach. After ten minutes of no success, I finally screamed wordlessly and hurled my sword at him.

He stepped to the side. The blade clattered against the wall.

I turned away, grinding my nails into my hair.

“You need work,” he commented. “But you’re better than I expected.”

I lunged blindly, this time with my hand pulled into a fist.

His own gloved hand reached out and caught my wrist. The strength of his hand was like iron; try as I might, I couldn’t pull away.

“First rule,” he growled, his mechanical voice echoing slightly off the wall. “Never fight angry.”

I tugged my hand and he let go, leaving me to pick up my blade and pull a lantern from its hook.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m leaving.” I stormed out the door, back into the corridors winding through the building.

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