Frostblood (Frostblood Saga #1)(75)

At the king’s command, the guards opened the doors, took my arms, and led me back to my room.





I sat on my bed, my arms wrapped around myself. The king had seen the darkness inside me, and I couldn’t deny it was there. I had welcomed it, and him, not just letting him kiss me, but returning his kisses. I closed my eyes against a surge of shame. Much as I wanted to deny it, I had enjoyed it, almost as much as I’d enjoyed killing in his arena. And now the Minax was speaking to me, telling me we would merge, that we would be one. I could no longer dismiss my earlier vision as a dream. The thing was becoming more powerful, more solid, the longer I stayed here, the more I killed.

Hands over my face, I rocked back and forth. What had I become?

Even now, I longed for that darkness, for its sinuous caress, like Brother Gamut’s tea that eased all pain, only a thousand times stronger. I ached for the obliteration of worry and pain, even as the implications of what I would become repulsed me.

I hated the king. Hated him to the depths of my spirit. And yet he’d woken something in me: a thirst for mindless power I couldn’t control.

I hopped off the bed and paced back and forth from stone wall to wooden door. When Brother Thistle had explained the plan to me, the evening sun streaming through the windows of the chapter house, he had seemed so confident. I would come to the castle and destroy the throne.

Now that I was in the castle, nothing was simple. I couldn’t kill the king because the throne protected him. I couldn’t destroy the throne because I had no power in its presence, except when I was in contact with the king.

Part of me just wanted to surrender. To let my next opponent strike me down. I could finally join my mother in the afterworld in the sky.

If I truly were the child of darkness, it would be better for the world if I was dead, rather than becoming some unstoppable power at the right hand of the king.

The thought hovered there, dark and heavy and undeniable.

Unfortunately, I didn’t think the darkness would let me die. In the past two fights, it had snaked up and taken me over when I was under threat. Every time, it was stronger. Even if I fought against that shadow power, I didn’t know if I could win.

Let the darkness take me, then. The king has won.

With the suddenness of a shutter being thrown open to let in the light of day, an image came to mind of my grandmother telling stories in front of the fire. I saw her lips moving, felt her hand on my hair. When the story was done, she would often give me a piece of wisdom to take from it.

“There is always light in darkness. It may only be a pinpoint, but it is there. Follow it and you will find your way free.”

Letting myself be taken by the dark was forfeiting my choice. Surely I was stronger than that. I could fight the Minax and its plans for me. I wouldn’t kill again, no matter how strong the urge.

I would lose in the arena, but I would win the battle against the king. With my death, his hopes of finding a vessel for the Minax would be crushed. And perhaps another Fireblood, someone more powerful, more cunning and strong, would come along and destroy the throne.

It just wouldn’t be me.

“I will find the light, Grandmother,” I whispered.





TWENTY-FIVE



“RUBY!” BRAKA CALLED.

I blinked, and the familiar sounds and sights of the arena came into focus. I was half sick, half numb at the prospect of what I had to do. “What is it?”

“Your opponent,” she said, her gray eyes serious. “He calls himself Kane. He is rumored to be a seasoned warrior come back from the wars. Like Gravnach, he uses no weapon but frost. Keep your distance and look for points he leaves unguarded, then focus on his weak spots.”

My brows rose, her earnest words pulling me out of the fog of resignation. “Braka, are you actually giving me pointers? Be careful or the others will think you like me.”

She smiled, displaying her missing tooth. “I do like you, Fireling. You are brave and strong, and you have powers that, well, frankly confound me. I believe you can win any fight. You will even win the crowd eventually.”

My lips twisted. “Unlikely. I see them preparing to launch their vegetables as we speak.”

She chuckled. “There is something about you,” she said thoughtfully, “that grows on a person. Like icicles.”

I smiled up at her. “I’m nothing whatsoever like icicles.”

She paused in thought. “Like fungus, then.”

I chuckled. “Much better.”

She clapped me on the back, the jovial pat reverberating through me. “No fear, Fireling. You haven’t lost yet.”

The current match was longer than usual, with one of the few female Frostblood challengers I’d seen. The two opponents were similar in size, but the woman had a clear advantage because of her stronger frost, though her male opponent often made gains with brute strength. Every match still made me sick to watch. That sickness reassured me. It meant I wasn’t numb to the waste of life, at least not yet.

I caught a familiar floral scent and turned to see Marella standing behind me, goddess-like in a silver dress with silk flowers sewn onto the full skirt. Some of the same silk flowers were woven into her elaborately coiled hair. Icy gems set in silver winked from her earlobes and fingers, catching shafts of light from the arena.

“I came to wish you luck,” she said with a dazzling smile.