Chapter 24
Revna
I finished strapping on my armor as the sun began melting down over the horizon.
It had been a long day. I’d convinced myself to attend training with S?ren despite the mortification I felt after yesterday’s session. Thankfully, he hadn’t made mention of anything that happened—in fact, he’d held up his end of the bargain he made, and we’d tried to summon the Tapestry.
We’d had no success, though.
I’d revealed my dream from the night before to him. It felt important to keep him up to date, especially since the Tapestry had finally revealed to us what Aloisa’s purpose had been.
“Passing on souls,” S?ren had mused, picking at the grass. “And it offered no explanation of how to do such a thing?”
“It told Aloisa the same thing it told me. If she used her Lurae and learned to summon the Tapestry, it would teach her. I suppose that’s the first step.”
“Now I understand why spirits haven’t been passing on,” he said with a sigh. “When Aloisa was killed by the queen, there was no one left to take on that responsibility.”
I’d spent all my free time lately reading the prophecy over and over, hoping to scrape new meaning out of the words. The paper we’d written it on was worn and soft from the press of my fingerprints. The words echoed in my mind. Dawn of new threads, with uncertain ends.
They felt particularly apt. “And it’s our responsibility now.
” The words weighed in my mouth, incomprehensible.
The two of us had been thrust into this duty without being asked whether we wanted it.
Taking on the mantle of Aloisa’s power felt like too much to bear.
Especially with my kingdom on the verge of collapse and S?ren so close to the queen still.
When we finally returned to practicing, we didn’t try much else. After a few minutes of attempting to summon the Tapestry, the thought of reaching purposefully for my magic frightened me and I departed with the excuse of a headache.
During my afternoon meetings working on legislature, Volkan had suggested I join the soldiers in their sparring matches every evening.
At first, I’d hesitated—after all, these men were soldiers in my father’s army once.
Now we pitted them against each other in friendly combat with the hopes it would drain them of the energy to commit crimes against their fellow Nilurae citizens.
The winners were exempt from taking a shift guarding the city during the festival at the end of the week.
I questioned Volkan’s idea, but the prince of Faste had made some good points. “The goal isn’t to rule with an iron fist, like your father did,” he’d said. “It’s to earn their respect. And for the soldiers, that respect will be earned by showing your combat prowess.”
“And if one of them manages to kick my ass? What then?” I’d scoffed.
Volkan shrugged. “Congratulate them. And then try again.” He turned to leave before calling over his shoulder, “Or make sure whoever you fight first is someone you’re confident you can beat.”
Now I approached the courtyard with S?ren at my side.
He’d kept close to me since dinner. When I realized there were nearly three dozen Lurae soldiers waiting there for a chance to try their luck against me, I stumbled.
S?ren slowed his pace to match mine and murmured, “Only one of the people here has trained with the Hellbringer, you know.”
It hit me that every single one of them would cower if they realized who the man standing next to me was. Not one of them would have survived those six weeks alone with him in the abandoned prison—much less emerged stronger from it to drive a dagger through Bjorn’s sadistic heart.
The thought gave me the confidence to step forward into the ring. Whispers rushed through the crowd, but I kept my demeanor light. “Who’s up first?”
A woman in her late thirties stepped up and bowed. “Your Highness. My name is General Raunstrup. I’ll be sparring with you first.” She quickly explained the rules—no harm was to come to either candidate, three strikes against your opponent made you the winner, and Lurae was absolutely forbidden.
As we arranged ourselves to fight, she leaned toward me and whispered, “Can I be honest? I’ve heard tales of your winning the Trials. I know many don’t support your rule, but I look forward to seeing what a monarch with new ideas can bring to our country.”
Her words startled me, mostly because the expression on her face was sincere. In fact, I was so taken aback I barely managed to parry against her first strike.
The fight was quick—General Raunstrup laughed as she conceded, admitting her strength was more on the strategic side of things. “But gods above. I haven’t felt so alive in years. You’re a force of nature, Your Highness.”
And then another Lurae took her place, and a few minutes later, they conceded a win to me as well.
On and on and on.
By the time darkness had fallen fully, someone had lit a bonfire in the courtyard to offer us more light.
Several of the spectating soldiers held torches.
The mood had changed drastically. When I first arrived, I felt their stares and judgment like blades pointed at my back.
Now their wariness was tinged with the first hint of respect.
“All right,” I managed through my labored breathing. The last opponent had made me work for the win, and I’d enjoyed every second. “Let’s call it an evening. We can reconvene tomorrow if anyone still wants to spar.”
“No,” a voice called.
Heads turned to the dissenter, and I kept my face carefully neutral when Arne pushed through the crowd, stepping into the ring. “You’re not done yet, Your Highness.”
Quiet laughter followed, but not as loudly as I expected. In fact, most of the observers frowned. I held back a sigh. “We can spar tomorrow, Arne.”
“We spar tonight,” he spat. “Unless you’re too much of a coward to face me.”
I wondered briefly whether anyone in the crowd—besides S?ren—actually knew what had happened between me and Arne.
He was furious with me. Was it because of how poorly our relationship had ended?
Or because I’d admitted to him that I trained with the Hellbringer?
I hadn’t seen him since we’d returned from Kryllian, but he’d been more than happy to sow discontent among the Nilurae.
He wasn’t going to leave me in peace until I’d beaten him.
This was personal. So I shrugged. “Sure. What’s one last match for the evening?”
There was a sinister edge to Arne’s smile as he raised his sword. “Shall we?”
A hand gripped my shoulder. Freja. “Promise me you won’t kill him,” she muttered, too quiet for anyone else to hear. After a heartbeat, she added, “Or maim him.”
I hadn’t even realized she was watching. Caught off guard by her sudden appearance, I nodded. “Of course.”
The general, who had been moderating the matches, caught my eye to make sure I was ready. She called, “Begin!”
For a long moment, we circled each other like birds of prey. I studied Arne’s form, his grip. They were improved from the sloppy ones he’d taught me so long ago. Apparently I wasn’t the only one who had trained since we last sparred.
But when he stepped forward, swiping his blade toward me in a wide arc, I parried easily. I held back a grin as I remembered the first time I had attempted to spar with the Hellbringer and realized Arne was slow in comparison.
But instead of moving to swipe at me again, he leaned his full weight into the crux of our met blades.
I huffed in amusement. S?ren was lean, but pure muscle—and he’d won our matches with this same move more times than I could count.
Arne, though? He was wiry and thin. The unfortunate result of food shortages, but now, an easy advantage for me.
For a second, I let Arne believe the move was a success. I allowed his momentum to push the blades down, subtly guiding them with my grip until I stepped swiftly to the side, disengaging from the hold entirely.
Arne stumbled forward. I stretched my blade out, quick, to rap him on the back. General Raunstrup shouted, “One to the queen!”
The crowd of soldiers murmured. I stepped back, allowing Arne to catch his balance. It would have been easy to move in and catch him off guard, to throw two haphazard final taps in and win the match.
But this wasn’t just about winning.
So I waited, keeping my breath steady, as Arne whirled back to face me with a scowl so furious it seemed to rend his face in two. My Lurae hummed softly, present but patient. I held it back—I intended to follow the rules of this game.
Arne steadied himself and I studied him. “You’ve improved,” he noted. “Last time we sparred you were nothing but a girl pretending she had power.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And now I’m a woman who could kill you in an instant.”
“Is that a threat?”
I caught the disgruntled murmurs of the crowd. Probably not the best idea to threaten a soldier, even if I wanted to confirm that yes, it was absolutely a threat. I still couldn’t resist a bit of a pointed jab, though. “Of course not. I have no need to threaten my loyal subjects.”
He lunged without warning. When I leaned back, out of the path of his sword, I heard the sweep of metal through the air.
I steadied myself. He knew better than to pull his blows now.
Two quick steps and he was on me again. I spent my time parrying, learning his weaknesses. He slashed again and again, the fury in his eyes lending to his strength.
But not his precision.
Each swing was wild, simple for me to block. This was no challenge. After several minutes of allowing him to rage, I made my move. The next time our blades clashed, I leaned my weight into the swords before he could move away—the same move he had pulled on me mere moments ago.
Arne’s eyes widened. My own narrowed. I watched as he put all his focus into holding me back, his muscles straining. Then I took advantage of his distraction, bringing my knee up to hit him directly in the stomach.