Frostblood by Elly Blake

Author:Elly Blake
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Young Adult Fiction / Fantasy / General *, Young Adult Fiction / Romance / General *, Young Adult Fiction / Social Themes / Prejudice & Racism *, Young Adult Fiction / Social Themes / Violence *
Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
Published: 2017-01-10T05:00:00+00:00

After a long while, I went out in search of news. The abbey was unnaturally quiet. Finally, I found Brother Thistle in the chapter house leaning on his walking stick, staring out the window.

“Any word?” I asked.

He shook his head. His face was wan and stiff and seemed more heavily lined than usual. We sat together, each minute crawling past.

The sun was halfway down the sky, the heat of late afternoon warming the seat under the window. A cloud moved over the sun, making me shiver.

Suddenly, Brother Thistle sat up straighter, his brows snapping together. He leaned forward.

“Is that? Yes. A horse.” He tapped his stick on the floor in excitement. “Oh, praise Tempus. Arcus has returned.”

Although frustrated by the abrupt end to our conversation, I looked out, eager to see Arcus. A distant figure rode toward the abbey, a dark smudge against the gray road and hazy trees. As it came closer, the shape split into two, then three, then more.

“There’s more than one rider, Brother Thistle.” Trepidation crept along my skin like tiny spiders. “Are you expecting visitors?”

He pushed his face closer to the glass, his eyes trained on the distant specks.

“What color do they wear, child?” he asked, an uncharacteristic tremor in his voice.

I shook my head, squinting. “It’s hard to make out.”

As the shapes drew closer, Brother Thistle’s hand went to his heart. “By Tempus, no.”

In the bright midday sun, the riders had become clear. Blue tunics with a white arrow in the center.

The mark of the Frost King.

My heart raced. Time seemed to stop and then rushed forward.

Brother Thistle cursed under his breath and pulled a key from the folds of his robe. Pressing it into my palm, he said, “Give this to Sister Pastel. She will take you to the catacomb tunnels that lead to the woods. Only the senior members of the order know where the tunnels come out.”

“I’m not going to hide,” I argued, my voice rising.

I was scared, more scared than I’d been since being in Blackcreek prison. But the need to protect my friends was greater than my fear.

He put his hand on my shoulder and pushed me backward, surprising me with his strength.

“This is no time for a show of stubborn temper,” he said, more forcefully than I’d ever heard him. “If they find you here, there is no telling what they will do to us all.”

His reasoning penetrated my defiance. Staying to fight could do more harm than good. I couldn’t risk the monks and Arcus just to show myself that I wasn’t that same scared girl in the village. But it felt wrong to cower in the dark while they faced the soldiers without me.

There was no indecision in Brother Thistle’s eyes or hands as they took my shoulders and shook me.

“Go!” he yelled.

With an agonized backward look, I went.

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