Chapter 8
S?ren
My bedroom was one of the few places in the Kryllian palace that was utterly devoid of ghosts.
I pulled off the tunic I’d worn to the event tonight, balling it up and chucking it in the corner. Was I grateful for the silence, or did I hate it? My mood lived in a constant flux, indecisive as I was about the solitude.
I rested my forehead against one carved bedpost and sighed.
The memory of the ball, which had ended in disaster less than an hour ago, tasted like sandpaper.
I grimaced. I wanted to force the queen to tell me what she was thinking, making such an offer to Revna—even more, I wanted to know why she hadn’t told me beforehand.
Hadn’t I deserved to know she was tossing me to the wolves?
No, apparently not. And now I needed to pack for three weeks in Bhorglid.
Three weeks living in the same space as the woman I love. The one who also hated me.
I’d followed the queen down the halls and around endless corners in silence before finally opening my mouth to ask her what the hell she’d been thinking.
But she’d held up a hand to silence me. “Do not question me, S?ren.” Her voice had an edge to it that I rarely heard, one reminiscent of when she’d caught me with Frode’s body.
Then, she’d been utterly manic. Now, she vibrated with something I couldn’t define.
“You are not privy to my mind. And know this—for every secret you try to pry from me, your sister will suffer.”
Shoulders taut, I let her go. What was the point of following her if she wasn’t going to tell me what she was thinking anyway?
Absentmindedly, I ran my left hand over the scar on my opposite shoulder.
I wondered whether the villager I spoke with had left to search for Sonja yet.
He’d told me his contacts had brought him word of a traveling caravan of Seeing Ones in Faste, of all places, that included a woman who might very well be my sister.
It had taken a bribe more significant than any I’d paid before to convince him to depart this morning to confirm his suspicions.
It’s probably not her, I told myself. You’re likely wasting all your money hoping to cut the collar around your neck only to be disappointed.
But now, even if he did locate her, I wouldn’t know. Not until I returned from Bhorglid. The man made a living searching for missing people. He traveled frequently. Would he even be in the village when I returned? Or would I find myself waiting weeks more for news of my sister?
The queen was sending me on a petty errand, one she knew would eat away at me—she’d made that clear when she let slip how much she knew about my relationship with Revna during our time in the prison.
Maybe she was trying to distract me. Occupy me with training the princess so I would stop digging for answers about her motives.
She continued to leave for days at a time, always to Bhorglid—per Mira’s knowledge. She carried her new sword everywhere with her, fingers running up and down the hilt, caressing it like a lover.
But who had she killed for it? And why did a weapon matter? Especially one that wasn’t even made to Anja’s specifications?
At least I’d been successful in keeping my search for Sonja under wraps thus far.
I collapsed onto the bed, still half dressed. There would be no sleeping tonight. A regular occurrence, but I’d been hoping to get at least a few hours before leaving for Bhorglid.
My mind spun. Revna hated me. I’d spent the last three weeks trying to force myself to come to terms with it and yet…
Seeing it on her face was different. Sharper. Far more capable of causing me to bleed out than when I could push it to the back of my mind and live in the memories and dreams of our short time together instead.
This is the price you’ve paid for Sonja’s safety.
After all, wasn’t her safety the reason for everything I did? The thing that made every bad decision worthwhile?
Revna despises you now, I thought. Are you so sure a fruitless search for your sister is worth every sacrifice you’ve made?
I rubbed my palms against my face. It wasn’t often these days that I was able to play the scholar instead of the general.
I enjoyed the time I had without the mask pressing against my forehead and nose, making it difficult to see and obscuring the world in a haze of gray.
My helmet and the light layer of armor I donned while fulfilling my Hellbringer duties on the front lines were tucked deep in the closet, behind a hidden panel.
The entire contraption was locked, the key secured on a chain around my neck.
I would need to bring it all with me to Bhorglid.
Just in case. I knew the queen would demand it of me anyway—if she decided she needed her Hellbringer at her beck and call, Mira would arrive to retrieve me from Bhorglid and whisk me away without delay.
There would be no time to return here and grab the armor from its hiding place.
My mind drifted. Revna had been understandably furious when the queen proposed her ultimatum. I doubted she had any interest in seeing me, much less training with me.
Even though she desperately needs the help.
I supposed that left me with nothing but thoughts of her in that decadent red dress, looking lovely and pissed off all evening.
I suppressed a chuckle. Power suited her.
Maybe in another life, one where she forgave me, I could stand behind her.
Help her hold on to that power, kill anyone who tried to take it from—
A knock sounded at the door.
Stifling a groan of annoyance, I forced myself off the bed.
At least I didn’t have to change back into the Hellbringer’s uniform.
The room had two entrances, one on the west wall and the other on the east, to give the illusion of the Hellbringer and S?ren occupying two separate living spaces.
The knock had come from the door to my right—S?ren’s door—so whoever was knocking would expect my face.
But who could possibly have need of a scholar in the middle of the night?
For the briefest flash of a second, I allowed myself to imagine it was Revna on the other side of the door. Her face set in cool determination. I’d let her in and she’d thank me for helping her tonight.
She would tell me she understood my actions that day on the front. And then she would forgive me for my choice.
Another rap of knuckles against the wood called me back to reality. “Coming,” I called, careful to keep my voice pleasant. S?ren the scholar was thrilled about the chance to travel to Bhorglid. Utterly delighted to study the magic of the Bloodsinger Queen.
Gods, even the thought made me want to run myself through with my own sword.
Instead, I straightened my shoulders, decided it wasn’t worth putting on a shirt just to spare whatever servant was there from seeing my bare chest, and opened the door.
I got a single glimpse of Revna’s furious features before she drew back a fist and punched me in the jaw.
“Fuck.” The word was out before I stopped myself, my mask of calm quickly replaced by the Hellbringer’s growl as pain exploded.
The force of the blow and my surprise sent me stumbling back a step, just enough for her to slide through the doorway and kick the door shut behind her before lunging again.
But her next strike wasn’t fast enough, and I reached out a palm to catch her curled hand. My chuckle was genuine. When was the last time someone had managed to make the Hellbringer feel like an eager child?
I knew the answer: three weeks, four days, and one hour ago. When this same woman had truly defeated me in training and I’d known she was ready to win the Trials.
This, I mused as she tried to yank her wrist from my grasp, is better than the daydream I was having before I opened the door.
Sparring was nothing but foreplay between her and me.
The decision to drop her hand came from a feral part of my brain, the part that couldn’t stop imagining all the ways I could pin her down.
Ways to make the battle between us last longer, stretch it out another few seconds so I could savor it more.
And gods above, she still wore that sinful red dress. My mouth watered.
The words slipped from me before I bothered to stop them. “I’ve missed you, too.”
She growled, her face set in an expression I knew well on her—hatred. A flurry of blows followed, and despite her speed, I managed to avoid most of them. “Have you been training?” I asked her. “You’re faster than when we last fought.”
The glare sharpened and I realized my mistake. Our last fight had been on the battlefield shortly before I killed her brother.
She lunged for me again.
We slipped into the dance of war like it was an old, familiar friend.
Revna’s strikes were precise, and I decided to make it a game—how long could I dodge before she was able to land a blow?
She was here to hurt me, make me suffer.
I wouldn’t let her do me harm, but I had no intention of striking back.
Not when we’d already wasted so much precious time fighting.
Besides. I was suffering plenty without her help.
Now well into the center of the bedroom, she pulled a small dagger from an arm sheath—a familiar weapon, one of the pair I’d made for her—and lunged for me again, teeth bared.
Even her rage is beautiful, I mused, twisting and barely missing the bite of the blade.
It was the first time since returning from the front that I’d been calm.
She focused me, forced my energy to align myself.
I wanted to spar with her until we both collapsed from exhaustion.
At the thought, I knew it was time to end this. Only one of us was enjoying it, and the rage radiating off her in waves only served to remind me of the things I’d done. The ways I didn’t deserve her.