Chapter 5
Revna
Arne had the decency to wait until I’d changed into my training clothes before pounding on my door.
I paused reaching for my belt. Aloisa lay on the bed next to it, ready to be sheathed at my hip. I’d missed her familiar, comforting weight at dinner. I gathered myself, knowing my slight reprieve was over, and twisted the knob.
Arne forced his way in before the door was open even an inch. I stumbled, snarling, the threads spinning once again.
“You trained with the fucking Hellbringer?” he demanded, pacing back and forth. His eyes wouldn’t even meet mine.
“Do you have a problem with that?” I asked, straightening slowly.
“Of course I have a problem with it!” he shouted. “I knew there was someone else, I knew it and you know what? Maybe I would have gotten over it. But him? Not only have you been a liar this entire time, you’ve been sleeping with the enemy—”
“Enough.”
My hands shook with the force of my fury, and I stepped closer to Arne, hoping to stop my Lurae from pulling him toward me. “Did you put your life on the line for the Nilurae?”
His mouth pressed into a thin line. “I fought in the war.”
I shook my head. “Because you were forced to. Not because you wanted to. Not because you had any interest in making a difference. Hell, you couldn’t even bring yourself to help Freja and me when we’d commit our acts of…what was it you called them? Petty rebellion?”
“At least I didn’t spend weeks cozying up to the man who killed more of our people than any other,” he hissed. “At least I wasn’t fucking the man who murdered Freja’s father.”
He stormed out. I managed to pull my threads back, to allow the feral scream building within me to escape as nothing more than a low growl and a muttered curse.
When I turned around to grab my sword once more, I instead locked eyes with both Freja and Astrid, who watched from the doorway of the connected washroom.
“What?” I snapped.
Neither of them answered. I buckled my belt and sheathed my weapon. The silence weighed heavy, and against my better judgment I signed, “Do you agree with him?”
“Yes.”
My heart sank. Finally, I forced myself to look at Freja. I knew my expression and the movements of my hands held all the hurt I felt when I replied, “You never said anything.”
She pursed her lips. “What was I supposed to say? You were in love with him. And there were far more important things to focus on.”
You knew it was a mistake to tell her how you really felt about the Hellbringer, my thoughts taunted.
I clenched my teeth, remembering the night shortly after the Trials when Freja had walked into my father’s office to find me crying.
I’d been desperate for her friendship, desperate to ease the crack in my soul.
I told her everything—confessed the truth of my relationship with the Hellbringer.
Up until then, I’d left those details out of the story of my capture.
Freja had comforted me. Reassured me. Told me she understood. Now I knew the truth.
She had lied to me.
The realization turned my Lurae hostile. Threads twisted and tangled as my breaths shortened. My tenuous hold on my control frayed. If I stayed here any longer, someone was going to get hurt. I walked out the door, leaving the two women behind, desperate to put some distance between us.
There were two guards stationed at the end of the corridor where our rooms lay. I didn’t spare them a glance as I walked by, and they made no attempt to stop me or offer an escort.
The gardens were my destination. I could train there, and they were far enough removed from the palace that my threads wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone inside.
Gods, I needed the weight of my sword in my hand, the rush of swinging a blade through the air.
Especially now, when the whole world was against me.
You’re the only one who wants this alliance to succeed.
The words were stark laughter against the backdrop of my mind.
Your friends accompanied you here because they pity you, not because they want what is best for Bhorglid.
The queen herself is waiting for you to slip up so she can send her armies back to the northern wastes.
I shook my head violently, as if that would dislodge the muttering and the lullaby. The two twined as one until they were nearly indistinguishable.
The hallways were decadent, elegant gold filigree spiraling up to the ceiling. They were also nearly identical. When I turned one corner, then another, then another without arriving at the front doors of the palace, my chest tightened.
Lost.
No guards even, to ask for directions. “Stupid,” I mumbled under my breath, unsure whether I was speaking of the situation as a whole or myself as a person.
The sound of a latch clicking into place on a door came from ahead. I jogged forward and turned, hoping to catch someone before I grew even more turned around. But when I saw the figure striding purposefully away, I hesitated.
S?ren ran a hand through his hair, the Hellbringer mask and armor nowhere to be seen.
He wore an outfit unlike any I’d seen on him before.
A simple, cream-colored tunic tucked into a pair of nice pants.
A purple jacket with gold embroidery rested on his shoulders. Finery in place of his usual armor.
It felt like a lie just looking at him. A facade. Maybe this is the truth, I reminded myself, and the version of S?ren you knew is the lie.
I followed him without thinking.
He strode casually through the palace corridors, hands in his pockets.
I stayed far enough back to remain unseen, but I was curious where he could possibly be going.
I’d seen the Hellbringer in public spaces plenty of times.
But until now, S?ren had existed only in the abandoned prison—to me, at least. It was odd to acknowledge that other people knew his face, his voice, his mannerisms.
Especially when I could clearly tell he was attempting to act more casual than he felt.
His stiff shoulders and frequent glances to the left and right told me this was more than a simple nighttime stroll. Maybe he was off on an errand for Queen Anja. Perhaps it even had to do with the negotiations. My suspicion grew as he continued walking.
Where was he going at this time of night?
When the palace front doors came into view, I ducked behind a statue. He greeted the guards, who both merely nodded. As he reached for the door handles, he looked back.
My breath caught in my throat. His face was the same—dark hair framing high cheekbones and full lips, gray eyes searching as ever.
The thought ricocheted without permission. I miss him.
He didn’t notice me, hiding in the shadow of the sculpture, and he left without another word to the guards.
I straightened, counted to ten, and then went to the doors myself. The guards once again made no comment as I exited the same way S?ren had. The stars shone and a cool breeze tossed the wisps of hair that had escaped my braid.
In the distance, a shadowed figure continued out the gates surrounding the palace.
I glanced in the direction of the gardens.
Training would wait until tomorrow night.
Whatever nonsense S?ren was up to demanded an investigation.
I had an obligation to follow him. Who knew what kind of trap he and Anja might be laying for me and my friends?
I jogged after him.
Roskilde felt very similar to Bhorglid’s capital in some ways. In others, though, it felt entirely different.
Nice buildings and shops on the edge of town closest to the palace quickly gave way to tiny cabins with moderate-sized pastures as S?ren and I moved further into the village.
Abandoned homes in varying states of decay and ruin hid within the trees on the far end of the small town.
I followed S?ren from a distance, surprised he didn’t turn around and catch me at any point.
I was used to the general—brilliant war strategist. Perhaps here, the Hellbringer could relax without fear of retaliation.
Small fenced areas for keeping livestock surrounded us on either side. As he approached one, a horse whinnied. S?ren’s hand flew to his opposite forearm, where a sheath concealed a dagger. He froze. I did too, wondering if this was the moment he would catch me.
But he simply shook his head and continued on.
Strange.
S?ren passed through quickly, not stopping until he reached the outskirts of town. Dilapidated buildings were scattered amid the towering oaks. He stepped up to the front door of a small home and knocked quietly.
The shadows were deep, but the moon was out and full—its light illuminated the dirt roads. I swore underneath my breath. The knock on the door had been barely audible, and there was no way I’d be able to hear the conversation that followed.
And I was correct. A man in his thirties with dark blond hair in a ponytail stepped out of the house. He seemed confused but joined S?ren on the road. I watched them speak. S?ren ran his hand through his hair multiple times before finally sighing and pulling out a bag of coins to hand over.
Even from a distance, I could tell it wasn’t light.
The man accepted it, went back into his house, and closed the door.
Only I would have taste terrible enough to ensure I dated both the general of Kryllian and an illicit goods smuggler.
By the time the thought was finished, I realized S?ren was headed back in my direction. And I’d done a shit job of remaining hidden, curious as I was about the exchange. His glare was locked on me, eyes wary and brow furrowed.
I straightened when he drew near. He reached out, as if to wrap a hand around my upper arm, but I leaned away. For a moment, we regarded each other in silence. Then he said, “Come on.”
We didn’t speak again until the city was far behind us, the trees our only companions. I stepped in front of him so he would stop walking.