Page 57 of Blood Beneath the Snow

The Hellbringer twisted the makeshiftspit, evenly roasting the meat cooking over the fire. The too-big eye sockets of the skull mask made him an enigma in the dying light of day. A creature of the night, preparing to rejoin its brethren in the dark.

The finished blade lay next to me in the snow. It wasn’t sharp yet—he’d explained I’d need to grind the edges down in the morning, after we rested through the night—but I was too proud of it to let it sit in the forge, in the dark.

My blade deserved to see the light of day before it slept. It wouldstay by my side, this creation of mine, until it was ready to spill blood. Until it was sharpened and honed along with me, ready to win freedom for my people.

The Hellbringer didn’t agree.

“Leave the blade in the forge,” he’d argued when I picked it up, cradling it in my arms as we cleared the room, putting out the forge’s fire and preparing to move to the cave entrance for our meal.

“No,” I’d snapped. Maybe he didn’t understand the beauty of making something with your own two hands when they’d done nothing but destroy in the past. But I knew the blade was precious, and I wasn’t letting it go.

Now, he handed me a skewer of cooked rabbit, steaming in the cool air. I breathed in the smell, my growling stomach eager to begin. But I paused with my mouth open when he took his own portion and rose.

“What are you doing?”

The mask was impassive as always, but I could hear the raised eyebrow in his voice. “Going to eat.”

He trudged off, presumably to find a private spot to take off the mask and have his own meal. I chewed thoughtfully on a bite of my own dinner as I watched him disappear into the trees, then stood up to follow him.

I wasn’t certain of much, not when I didn’t know whether I’d live to see more than the next month and a half, but I did know the Hellbringer had a distinct advantage over me. He was the captor—the one with all the knowledge and all the power.

Seeing his face would more than level the playing field.

I stayed as far back and out of sight as I could, stepping in his footprints where possible. His stride was long enough that in some places my legs wouldn’t stretch far enough. But I figured it was more important to get to him without being noticed. I’d worry about returning to the fire after the fact.

The trees kept me hidden, shielding me with their shadows, and I crept along in near silence as the Hellbringer took his leave. About a quarter of a mile from the entrance to the cave, he stopped and sat, his back against the trunk of the nearest pine.

I remained unseen but wouldn’t for long. Carefully, I reached for the nearest weight-bearing branch and hauled myself up, climbing the tree until I was confident he wouldn’t see me. Frode and I had spent hours playing hide and seek as children, his godtouch forcing me to find more unique places to hide throughout the years. The tops of trees were among my favorites because they presented a convenient loophole: if Frode could hear my thoughts but couldn’tseeme, then I technically hadn’t been found. I’d leap from pine to pine, forcing him to chase me down to win the game.

The skill would come in handy now. The Hellbringer was still far enough from me that I wouldn’t be able to get a good look at his face, though. I inched to the edge of the branch I was perched on, grateful the trees grew as thickly as they did, and clambered onto the neighboring pine. I repeated the motion again and again until I could see the mask from a distance. He still wore it: Why hadn’t he started eating?

I settled in, waiting for the precise moment.

The Hellbringer pulled one of the freshly made daggers from the sheath at his waist, flipping it over and over in his hand. I waited for him to cut the meat off the stick, use it as a makeshift utensil.

Instead, he flicked his wrist, sending it hurtling through the air straight toward me, to bury itself up to the hilt in the bark of the pine. Right next to my face.

The impact startled me, my sudden flinch sending a pile of snow from the branch to the ground below. I gritted my teeth, barely holding onto the branch. If I had spent any less time perfecting the skill of balancing in trees, I’d have fallen ten feet to the ground. “Fuck you!”

“Can I eat in peace, or will you force me to starve through the night?” he called, ignoring my expletives.

I wrenched the blade from the trunk and swung down from the branch, landing nimbly on my feet in the powder. “Why won’t you eat in front of me?” I demanded, brandishing the knife as I approached him.

“I’d happily eat in front of you if I could. But I won’t remove my mask.”

“Why not?” I resisted the urge to throw my hands in the air with exasperation. “Are you secretly hideous? Or do you truly believe you’re so important that your identity must remain a secret?”

He leaned back, and without being able to track his eyes, it was impossible to know whether he was looking at me or the green needles stretching out above him. “I have no idea whether you’d think I’m ugly.”

I pursed my lips to keep from interrupting. With a body like his, I highly doubted he was an eyesore. Then again, stranger things had happened.

“Can you imagine trying to live any kind of normal life having a Lurae like mine?” His voice was quieter now, almost pensive. “I kill people, Princess. Not just the bad ones. And not just when my country is at war.”

“You’re the perfect weapon.” Bitterness seeped into my voice, uncontrollable. I couldn’t stop it if I tried. “You could show up anywhere, anytime, kill them all. Leave no one the wiser. If all the witnesses are dead, why protect your face? If you’re the most powerful man in the world, why hide?”

Freja’s father had been one of the bodies left in the Hellbringer’s wake. She rarely spoke of it, preferring to grieve in her own time, in her own way. But I never forgot.

He stood, retracing his footprints in the snow. The sun sank further below the horizon, casting long shadows over the blanket ofwhite. “Is the most powerful man in the world the one who can kill without a second thought?” he asked, looking away from me. “Or is it the one who holds his leash? The one who knows his weakness and holds it at knifepoint?”

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