Fifteen
Liam
The burn of overworked muscles was a sensation I'd come to respect. Hells, sometimes I even enjoyed the reminder of strength earned through sweat and perseverance.
But as I stood on the training grounds, watching Raina push through another one of Brahm's relentless drills, I had to fight the urge to step in.
"Keep your damn guard up!" my father barked, his voice echoing off the trees that bordered the grounds, and Raina, looking like some fierce winter spirit with her white-blonde hair sticking to her damp forehead, obeyed, her violet eyes narrowing in concentration.
"Come on, Raina! Hit back harder!" I shouted, though my encouragement came out more gruff than I intended.
It was the third day of what Brahm called toughening up—a euphemism for hellish torment designed to break even the most obstinate warrior. He'd warned us he would knock some fucking sense into us, a phrase that sent a familiar shiver down my back.
The Drótinn’s tactics were as unforgiving as the frozen landscape of the Ledovik Mountain range. Father’s stance had always been to break down his warriors until they were too physically exhausted to resist, then mold them into something better.
I’d finished my workout already and had been waiting for the Drótinn’s order to keep going. He’d never forget about me so I suspected he wanted me to finish before Raina.
I watched as she moved with a grace that belied her exhaustion, parrying blows from the practice dummies that swung at her from all sides. She didn't let up, didn't show a flicker of weakness, even as her breath came out in ragged pants and her limbs trembled with exertion.
"Again," Brahm commanded, and she complied without hesitation.
My admiration for her grit was undeniable. Raina wasn't just some delicate frost nymph; she was determination incarnate, her body tight and talented, still holding curves that the added muscle only served to enhance.
Gunnar's words about wedded bliss taunted me, and I found myself half-tempted to press her against the nearest tree. I had an urge to mark her flesh, as if staking my claim could somehow rewrite the past.
I shook the thought away, focusing instead on her movements. The way she pivoted on the balls of her feet, spear slicing through the air with precision. How each drop of sweat that traced the line of her collarbone seemed to catch the dying light, turning her skin into a canvas of shimmering effort.
Watching her like this was such an inconvenient turn-on. It made it hard to remember why I’d carried such animosity towards her.
“Fucking temptress,” muttered under my breath, knowing full well she couldn't hear me over the clatter of wood against wood.
She charged forward, stabbing the dummy square in its straw-filled chest with enough force to topple it over. A triumphant smile flickered across her face, quickly smothered as she reset her stance, ready for more.
"Enough." Father's voice cut through the air.
Raina dropped her arms, panting, her gaze locked on the fallen dummy as if she could will it back upright for another round.
"You worked hard today," he told her, though his praise was as sparing as ever.
Raina nodded, too winded to speak, but the fire in her eyes spoke volumes. I knew that look, though I’d only seen it a handful of times.
He called out for me to approach and I jogged closer. “You three have two more rounds. Everyone else can go.”
I caught Gunnar’s eye and his mouth curved. How many times in our younger years had we been told by the Drótinn that we had two more rounds and everyone else could go?
Mirrelle and Raina were already back at it so I walked over to the first station and drew my blade. I’d need a long hot soak after today.
Sooner than I realized, twilight began throwing long shadows across the training grounds, a stark reminder that we were the only ones left. Gunnar's absence was nearly as noticeable as his presence; for once he’d been excluded from the extra hour of exertions.
"Another round?" Mirrelle asked, her voice low but not lacking its usual edge.
"No," I said firmly, almost relieved. "We're done."
Raina was silent, a statue carved of ice and resolve, her silky hair catching the last rays of sun like a halo in the encroaching dark. She secured her spear, her movements deliberate, before turning her violet gaze upon me.
"Why didn't you tell me about Blómhaus?" she blurted.
It had taken her three days to ask.
It had taken me a year to come up with an appropriate response, knowing someday someone other than my brother would solicit an admission from me. Only, now I couldn’t find the words.
I shrugged, trying to match her casual tone with my own, failing miserably. "Didn't think it'd matter. It’s just a house."
Technically, I had thought that. And technically, I still did, unable to think of Blómhaus as what I’d wanted it to be when I’d drawn up the plans.
Her face turned to granite. She didn’t say anything so I believed for a moment we could avoid this discussion for a while longer.
Mirrelle quirked an eyebrow. "Really? Just a house?”
“That’s what I said.”
“When did you build it?" Mirrelle pressed, her insight cutting through my attempt at nonchalance.
"Does it matter?" My annoyance sharpened each word.
Raina remained unfazed, her eyes never leaving mine. "After the contract was negated?"
“Yes.” The single word fell from my lips, heavy with things unsaid. That was all I would allow to escape. The rest would remain buried deep within the stone walls of my guarded heart.
I wasn’t ready to open up and reveal that particular wound.
"Let's head back," I suggested abruptly, eager to leave behind the ghosts of memories best forgotten. “Night’s nearly here.”
Mirrelle looked at me with curiosity but didn’t say anything. I didn’t take another peek at Raina, instead taking quick strides towards the woods to give myself a little distance.
I was almost clear of the training grounds when the air shifted, heralding my paranoia. Instincts honed by years of training snapped into place as I scanned the area.
I didn’t see anything but I was spooked enough to worry. "Raina, get—"
Chaos erupted before the words fully left my mouth. Shadowy figures were on us, swift and merciless, a blur of dark cloaks and darker intentions.
And there was Raina, in the thick of it, her spear a silver flash against the darkening sky.
"Mirrelle!" I barked, even as I deflected a blow meant for my head. "Cover her!"
The frustration in Raina's eyes blazed brighter than any torch as she ducked another assailant. Mirrelle was a wall of pure tenacity between Raina and the attackers, absorbing hits that were meant for her friend.
"I can fight, damn it!" Raina shouted, voice ice-cold with anger.
But Mirrelle was unyielding, shoving Raina back each time she tried to engage. The nymph did her best to shoot daggers of ice but Mirrelle continued blocking her view.
I fought with everything I had in me, every strike a promise of retribution. Yet, part of me, the part that knew the terrain, the darkness, and the odds, screamed to order Raina to run. But where? There was no safe path, no clear escape.
"Stay close!" I yelled over the clash of metal and the grunts of exertion.
A surge of protectiveness welled up, fueling my blows as I cut down one assailant, then another. But still, they came.
Our guards should have engaged them first, or sent up a signal. We’d taken precautions—so what the fuck happened?
"Mirrelle, to your left!" I called out, even as I spun to intercept a blade aimed at my side.
"Stop it!" Raina growled as Mirrelle pushed her back yet again. “Let me help!”
But Mirrelle's resolve held firm—she had chosen her role, and she would die fulfilling it if need be. My respect for the blood fae rose instantly.
Raina wasn't just fighting the kidnappers, she was fighting Mirrelle's protective instincts too, determined to stand her ground. Mirrelle was handling both her friend and the enemy remarkably well.
But I needed Raina to follow orders.
I needed her to stay alive.
I needed her …
And through the frenzy of battle, something fierce and staggering swelled within me. I would not fail her, not like I had Nox’s father.
The raw memory reinforced my energies and I struck harder. Moved faster. Felt the boil under my skin of my berserker trying to rise.
It wouldn’t discern friend from foe if it took over. It would just kill.
"Stand down!" I roared at the attackers, though I knew they wouldn't listen.
The desperation in their movements spoke of high stakes and higher rewards for Raina's capture. But they didn't truly understand the consequences of what they’d dared on my father’s land.
I’d felled two at once and turned to check on the females, ready to jump in.
Mirrelle was a vision of fury, a blur of motion that carved a protective arc around Raina.
I felt admiration as I watched her fight. There was beauty even in the brutality of her defense. But admiration was quickly replaced by fear, the kind that gnaws at your bones, because I knew what these bastards were capable of.
And just like that, one of them got too close, his dark intent clear as he reached out to grab Raina. If he got his hands on her and had portaling magic, we might not get her back.
"Raina, watch out!" The words tore from my throat, but before he reached her, the world erupted in a fury of noise and motion.
From the cover of the trees, reinforcements thundered onto the training grounds. Brahm and Gunnar led the charge, their weapons gleaming with deadly promise.
My father, a beast of a man with braids flying, swung his axe with a grunt that spoke of years in battle. Gunnar's sword danced in his hand like an extension of his will, each strike precise and lethal.
Their arrival shifted the tide, giving us precious seconds to regroup. Panic ebbed slightly as I witnessed the enemies falter under the onslaught, but it was short-lived. In the chaos, a sickening thud sounded, and Mirrelle stumbled.
"Nooo!" Raina screamed.
She lunged forward, intercepting a killing blow meant for Mirrelle with a deftness that contradicted her delicate appearance. The spear in her grasp sang through the air, turning aside the attack.
Gunnar was there in an instant, his presence a wall between the fallen blood fae and the enemy. His intervention allowed Raina to kneel beside Mirrelle, whose blood seeped into the earth, staining it a deep crimson.
"Stay with me," Raina pleaded, her hands moving with practiced efficiency over Mirrelle's wounds.
"Raina, we need to move!" I shouted, desperate to pull her away from the danger that clawed at our heels.
"No! I won't leave her!" she screamed back, her violet eyes blazing with defiance and something far more fierce.
Loyalty.
I fought back the urge to drag her away, knowing her resolve was unbreakable. Instead, I turned my attention back to the fray, ensuring no harm would come to them as they lay vulnerable on the ground.
Mirrelle's injuries were grave, yet Raina's hands never wavered as she held pressure to stem the bleeding. The wound was too big, Raina’s hands not able to cover the gaping hole in Mirrelle’s abdomen.
"Raina."
"Shut up and fight, Liam!" she snapped without looking up, her focus unwavering.
A bitter laugh escaped me, half-choked with relief and pride. Even now, she had the spirit to command me, and gods help me, I wanted her all the more for it.
Gunnar's frame loomed large as he planted himself like an ancient oak between us and the brute who'd felled Mirrelle. His hazel eyes flickered with a concern that was rare in the heat of battle, the muscles in his jaw working as if to chew through the mayhem itself.
“Three at your ten, Gunnar!” Raina warned, reaching for her spear as a group edged closer to attack from the left.
I tried to work my way to that side, knowing I wouldn’t get there first.
"Stay down," Gunnar barked at Raina, the edge in his voice sharper than the blade in his hand.
The second it took for him to glance at her cost him. I kicked the combatant away from me and sprinted to my brother, dodging and weaving. I wouldn’t make it.
In a blur of speed, Raina surged upward, arm snapping forward. A dagger sailed over Gunnar's broad shoulder, a silver streak against the twilight. It found its mark with a sickening thunk, burying itself into the eye of the assailant about to run him through with a blade.
Gunnar spun, finishing off his opponent with brutal efficiency. The remaining enemies, sensing the turn of the tide, scattered like leaves in a gale.
"Mirrelle!" Raina cried out, raw and wrenching, as she knelt again and pressed down on the wound.
“Take them both to the infirmary. Now!” Father demanded as he ran by, chasing after those who’d ran on foot.
"Raina, we need to hurry." My words were a plea wrapped in command, but she ignored them, her hands pressing with desperate urgency against the deep crimson staining Mirrelle's leathers.
"We’ve no time for this," Gunnar growled, knocking Raina aside, his large hands scooping up Mirrelle's limp form with ease.
Raina screeched indignantly and I hoisted her up into my arms.
"Let. Me. Go!" She thrashed against me, her small frame deceptively strong. But I held her tighter still.
Gunnar met my gaze, a silent order passing between us, and with a twist of magic, he created a portal and stepped inside.
"Raina, stop." But she was beyond hearing me.
I stumbled through the portal after Gunnar with her kicking and screaming against me, her anguish a living thing. I’d never seen her behave like this.
We emerged into the hallway, just outside the door where I could see Mirrelle on the bed. Gunnar stood at her shoulder watching the swift movements of Thora and Loten, twin healers of opposite gender but identical temperament and talent.
Two more healers came running and I spun out of the way, taking Raina into the next room and covering her mouth. The little spitfire tried to bite me.
“I’ll plug your nose if you don’t calm down,” I warned.
She bucked and I did as promised, keeping my mouth next to her ear. “Be still and I will release you. Mirrelle needs you to calm the fuck down. If you can’t, I’ll throw you in the brig until you can get a hold of yourself.”
Raina immediately stopped moving and I lowered her to the ground, blocking the doorway in case she needed another minute. Then I registered the amount of blood on her.
“Are you hurt?”
“It’s not mine.”
She took a slow, deep inhale, then another. Though she had a slight tremble, she had a hold of herself once again.
“Come on, she’s next door. Just stay out of their way.”
Raina ignored my outstretched hand and hurried to the bustling infirmary room where Mirrelle was being treated. She froze, eyes turning owlish as a bloodied hand covered her mouth.
The clamor of healers and tools faded to a dissonant hum as I watched Raina shrink into herself, her presence diminished to that of a wraith in the corner. She made no sound, asked for no one's attention, but her eyes, those violet pools I'd drowned in a thousand times, were torrents, spilling over with silent tears.
The healers swarmed around Mirrelle, their hands a flurry of urgency and light, yet Raina remained motionless. I wanted to wrap her in my arms, but I remained at the door, guarding it being the only way I knew to help.
Eventually, Thora assured Gunnar of Mirrelle’s stability and all that was left was for her to rest. A collective sense of relief filled the small room.
“I’m just down the hall all night if anyone needs anything,” the kind female healer reminded us before leaving with the others.
Once I shut the door, Raina moved like a shadow, her form folding beside the bed where Mirrelle lay still, lost in healing slumber. Raina's sobs were so quiet I wasn’t sure she was crying at first.
I’d never heard her cry before and I never wanted to hear the sound again.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she keened.
It was then, amidst her tears and whispered prayers, that the walls I had built around my perception of Raina began to crumble. She wasn't the emotionless opportunist I'd once judged her to be. She just had trouble showing what was inside.
I wanted to demand answers from her. Demand to know where this had been when we’d ended. Why hadn’t she shown this to me? Would it have changed anything? Would I have fought harder to keep her?
Gods. I didn’t fight at all. I expected her to do it, assuming she knew I was all in, no matter what.
I even knew how hard she tried to please those monsters who held approval over her head like a damn treat to be earned if she was a good little pet. She’d been too young to see it and I’d done nothing to help her.
What a fucking mess.
Raina had never been the flower I accused her of being. I’d always thought of her as soft, delicate … and later, weak in her convictions.
No, she was the winter snowdrop—a flower strong enough to dare to bloom through layers of frost, its beauty all the more striking against the barren landscape of snow and ice.
She had endured her parents. Since birth she’d done everything they wanted. I had ended up resenting her for it, not knowing what it was like to never feel loved by parents.
She’d endured. She’d fought. And now she wept, not for herself, but for another.
The realization bore down on me with the weight of a divine revelation. I had wronged her with my assumptions, doubted the sincerity of her love.
Leaning against the wall, my gaze never left her trembling form. Raina, who could make a seasoned warrior falter with her fighting spirit, was the same female who now poured out her soul at her friend’s bedside.
She was the piece of me I hadn't known was missing, the warmth against the eternal plague of feeling incomplete. In that moment, I knew that whatever frost had settled between us, she was worth melting it all away.
Worth dying for. Worth living for. Most of all, worth fighting for.
But my most vexing question lingered like the last gasp of winter—did she still see me as the male I once was, or had my hostility driven her too far from reach?