Frostblood (Frostblood Saga #1)(77)

I didn’t realize I had doubled over until I felt Marella pull me up into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry, Ruby,” she whispered into my hair. “I wasn’t going to tell you. But now you know why Kane must not leave that arena alive. He deserves this death.”

I gasped and shuddered, feeling myself falling into a million pieces but helpless to stop it.

“You can do this. Destroy Kane. Destroy the throne. Otherwise, there is no end to the darkness.”

With a final squeeze, she pushed me from her, watching the fight with a regretful expression. I followed her gaze and saw that both opponents were on the ground, the announcer raising the Frostblood woman’s lifeless hand into the air. The crowd cheered, and servants came and pulled the bodies from the ring, leaving a trail of glistening blue blood behind. The Frostblood woman had apparently won, but she had paid with her life.





The announcer gave a signal. I stepped into the sunlit arena.

There were the usual jeers and curses, the drizzle of rotten food or rocks landing on the edges of the field. But shockingly, a couple of voices could be heard calling “Fireling!” I was numb to it all as if I floated above myself, a bystander with no stake in the proceedings. I hoped I would never have to feel again.

I turned and found the king on his balcony, Marella now seated like a painted doll to his left, her silver dress billowing out over the arms of her ice-carved seat. His robes were deep black with silver piping. I wondered if she had deliberately dressed to match him. It seemed that in subtle ways, she was always trying to catch his attention. I remembered what she’d said about the way he looked at me, and I saw it now. Rasmus inclined his head, the intensity of his gaze shivering over my skin. I stared, drawn despite myself to the shadows that shifted in the ice behind him, just out of sight.

As I gained center stage, the doors on the opposite side of the arena opened, and a figure strode out. He wore black leather armor with metal buckles and a steel helm with rectangular nose and cheek guards that reached down to his chin, the only openings over his eyes and mouth. A black cloak flowed down his back. He was larger and broader than the captain but not as big as Gravnach had been. He held no sword.

He uses no weapon but frost, Braka had said. I shivered, remembering Marella’s assertion that I had to merge with the Minax to destroy it. I had vowed to find the light, even if it meant death, but that was before I knew that this man was guilty of murder. Arcus’s murder. There was nothing in this world that would save him from death by my hand.

He stopped some ten feet away and bowed to me. I took my fighting stance, fists raised in readiness. He raised his. We circled each other.

After a few seconds, the crowd began their chant: “Die, Fireblood, die!”

But the Frostblood warrior made no move, perhaps assessing, waiting for some indication of my strength. I wasn’t so patient. I sent a sizzling jolt of flame at his feet.

He jumped nimbly out of the way and countered with a blast of frost that hit the ground in front of me, sending up a cloud of dust.

I spun a tornado of hot air at him. He put out his hands and the air dispersed in a hiss.

Pinwheels of fire roared from my hands. He slammed each one down with his steel wrist guards and blasted cold air back at me.

“You think this is a nice game, don’t you?” I called, twisting my hands to send twin vortices of air so hot that the water in the air turned to vapor. He let it pass over him without a flicker of reaction, as if it were a spring breeze. “But what you don’t know,” I said, throwing out a cloud of bristling heat, “is that you won’t leave this arena alive.”

My chest heated and I punched out a series of attacks, fire bolts and fire arrows and a ferocious tail of the dragon in rapid succession, the whipcrack echoing off the ice. He dealt with each lazily. The crowd laughed and started to cheer.

“Kane! Kane! Kane!”

Annoyance tightened my shoulders. His frost was even stronger than Gravnach’s.

I threw a bolt of fire at his helm. That got to him. He stumbled back before sending a gust of frigid air that made my legs shake with the effort of holding my ground.

Our attacks grew more rapid. I kicked up a sheet of flame. He coated himself with protective ice. I melted the ice with heated air, then sent another tail of the dragon. He frosted the ground under my feet, catching me in the middle of a movement. My foot twisted as I slipped and fell. I tried to push myself up but fell back to the ground.

Kane stalked over to me, his silhouette blotting out the sun. I turned my head to see the king leaning forward in his balcony, Marella rigid beside him. And between them, a dark shape hovering, its pointed head and shoulders growing and sharpening. There was no indication that anyone else could see it, but I could feel its presence, even with my eyes closed.

As I felt the darkness rise, I sent another stream of fire at Kane. Whether it was because of the solstice, or the darkness filling me, or just the fact that my hatred had finally freed me of all restraint, my fire seemed to burn hotter than it ever had. His tunic caught and he threw out frost to quench it.

He struck at me with frost that hissed into harmless steam, then sent icicles screaming toward me. They melted in the cloud of heated air that surrounded me like a shield.

I was too powerful already, bright as a piece of the sun. I was sure I could kill him with my fire alone. But I wanted the oblivion only the Minax could give me.