Frostblood (Frostblood Saga #1)(66)

“What will you do for me?”

He paused, waiting for my full attention. “I will give you a chance to face the captain who killed your mother. To kill him, if you wish.”

I inhaled sharply. How could he say that with the man sitting only a few feet away? “The captain who was under your command, following your orders? You would give him over to me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” I felt a muscle twitch in my neck. “Why would you do that?”

“I told you. To show you that you can trust me. And that if you give me what I want, I’ll continue to reward you in return. There is no reason we can’t find ways to benefit each other.”

I was off-balance, confused, distracted. I had let my guard down, sat and spoken with the king as if I were any willing guest and he my cordial host. Anger at myself and him erupted in my chest, needing an outlet. I whipped my hand down and sent a thin blaze of heat at the table. It sizzled for a second, and when it cooled, a dent was left behind. The crack ran down the center from the head of the table all the way to the end.

In the thick silence that followed, I met his eyes, my chest heaving. He glared back with blazing darkness. If he expected me to sputter an apology, he would be disappointed. I was glad I had cracked his table. I wanted to break it in half.

He lifted a hand. I braced myself for a blow, but he placed it on the table and shot a thin line of ice into the crack, sealing it instantly. Then he grabbed my hand and placed it on the table so that my heat melted the surface. My skin tingled at the contact.

I yanked away, and the king placed his own hand on the table again, refreezing the water. The surface was flat and perfect as if nothing had happened.

“You see?” said the king. “Frost and fire can work together. Perhaps that’s a lesson.”

I stared at the table, at the crack that had been so easily obliterated. I wondered if I would be so easily erased when I outlived my usefulness.

“As you are not hungry, you may go, Fireling.”

Without a word, I stood and walked to the guards, ignoring all the eyes melded to my back. As the doors opened, the king spoke once more.

“You fight again in three days.”





TWENTY-TWO



“I MUST THANK YOU FOR SOMETHING,” said Doreena in her quiet voice. “You killed my brother’s killer.”

Three days had passed, and it had seemed like an eternity. I spent all my time in my room, with only the occasional visit from Doreena to break the monotony. As it was the day of my match, she’d helped me put on the red tunic, freshly laundered and no longer smelling of sweat and blood. Somehow she’d also retrieved the mask I’d worn before. I wore a leather-and-steel gauntlet on my left hand to protect my healing finger.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “Gravnach killed my brother. He was only fourteen years old, too young for the arena. But our family was so poor and Lorca was determined to win prize money. He—” She put a hand over her mouth and closed her eyes before continuing. “He was the youngest in our family. My mother went mad with grief. I lost my brother and my mother to that monster, and now you’ve killed him. For that, I thank you.”

I was touched by her gratitude, though I didn’t deserve it. I had only been trying to survive. But I understood her need for revenge more than I could say.

She looked up at me with a pleading expression. “I don’t normally talk about it, but I felt I must thank you. If you tell anyone that I’ve spoken against one of the champions, I’ll be punished.”

“I would never tell, Doreena. And I’m glad if his death brings you peace. But I did nothing except what I had to do. I had no choice.”

When I was dressed, my hair loose down my back, she stood and looked at me with a fierce glint in her eye. “I will cheer for you, my lady, no matter what everyone else thinks.”

A few minutes later, guards led me through the courtyard. Heat came off my skin in nervous waves as I tried to block out the cries of “Die, Fireblood, die!”

I knew what to expect in the arena now, but whether I could survive again was completely uncertain. And the thing that had been inside my skin might come again. I was nervous, confused, almost frantic as I paced back and forth in the alcove, grateful that the other fighters avoided me and I had the space to work out my nerves.

“Careful, Fireling,” said Braka, “or you will burn yourself out before you even enter the arena.”

I stopped and turned to her. Thoughts of Doreena’s brother filled my head. If a boy was allowed to fight once, it might happen again. I couldn’t imagine anything worse than having to kill a child.

“Did you ever have to fight an innocent?” I asked. “Someone who you knew had no business being in the ring? I’m guessing you were a champion once.”

She shook her head, the icicles in her hair clinking slightly. “I fought many years ago, under King Akur. It was different then. Only seasoned warriors were sought.”

She opened her mouth and closed it again, perhaps thinking better of some comment. I sensed by her open expression that, like Doreena, she didn’t hate me for being a Fireblood.

“You are to have a sword today,” she finally said, handing me one in a leather sheath.

I eyed the weapon with a sense of repulsion, knowing how the cold steel would feel in my hand, how far it was from my natural heat. “I have little skill with a sword.”