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“Yes, well, she couldn’t be true to herself when she was playing her part with Harald,” Alva said as she motioned to the steward in the room to bring out the dishes with a gentle wave of her hand.

At the sound of her father’s name, Maude stilled again, hands flat on the table. Fire flooded her veins, images of his honey-colored hair and face twisted in rage, flashing before her eyes. Muscles locked up, her fire straining against the confines of her skin.

Just when she thought her anger would overrule her control, she felt a cool touch on her hand, a drop of water in the raging firestorm that was her soul.

“Breathe. Focus on where you are and not where you have been,” Herrick said gently, the ringing in her ears making his voice sound muffled. Maude grabbed onto the lifeline he was throwing her, breathing through the waves of fire and shadows that burned in her periphery. “Come back to me,minn eldr.”

Maude’s vision cleared, and she saw Herrick’s hand on hers, the tablecloth beneath her hand burnt and ruined. Alva’s eyes were on their intertwined fingers, seemingly unaware of the burnt cloth.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” Maude said as she removed her hand from his grasp and put out the small fire on the table with quick clench of her fist.

“Maude, it’s all right. You forget, I was friends with your mother, whose temper matched yours.”

Alva snapped her fingers, and the tablecloth began to stitch together, fibers of cotton threading together to create a patch being manipulated by her earthgalder. Maude’s patience began to run out, and the comments about a mother she could not reconcile with her own circled her. Before the patch in the cloth could be repaired, Maude put her hand on the table, her fingers splaying and curling to keep her from spiraling again.

“You said my mother was playing a part? These things you keep saying about her don’t make any sense to me. My mother never had a temper and certainly never stood up for herself. There must be a mistake.”

Alva was contemplative as she looked at Maude over the rim of her goblet.

“Maude, did she tell you nothing about herself?” she asked, the silence surrounding them beginning to deafen Maude as the Queen’s words sank in.

“Just tell me who she was to you,” Maude said, her voice leaking the desperation that was beginning to overwhelm her. “Please.”

Alva assessed Maude and seemingly came to a decision.

“Your mother was a spy for the Kingdom of Rivers.”

12

Maude could only stare. There were no thoughts in her mind. No emotions. She was an empty vessel that the information poured through, swirling and intensifying with every second it sat with her.

They sat in silence for so long that Maude felt they were suspended in time. Her reality had warped into something she couldn’t understand.

“You’re lying,” she whispered when she found her voice.

“My dear, I understand that this is difficult to accept, but she married the King of Flame as a way to get close to him so she could feed us his plans,” Alva said, her face filled with sympathy that sparked contempt deep in Maude’s soul.

“Sylvi was a firevitkifrom Dagsbrun that had sought shelter in our kingdom from the Flame soldiers patrolling nearby. They had heard rumors of a girl with a talent for fire and came to seek her out for the Betrothal Ball that would be held for Harald to choose a wife so he could ascend his throne,” Alva began.

Maude could only fix her stare on the Queen’s face, unable to do anything but listen.

“She entered our kingdom when I was still the Heir Apparent. Sylvi was only seventeen when she came to Veter and begged for asylum. She and I grew to be fast friends when she received a place amongst the handmaidens in the palace.”

Alva paused as the staff placed steaming plates of food in front of each of them. Once the room settled into silence at the departure of the staff, Alva waved to them both to eat. Feeling the dizzying effects of the wine mingling with her shock, Maude took a few mechanical bites of the food.

She only tasted ash in her mouth.

“We had lessons together growing up, and both became very skilled in ourgalderuse, surpassing our skill with blades quickly. Sylvi had always had a quick mind and a sharp tongue. She was charismatic and beautiful, the envy of all the women in Veter with her deep red hair and golden skin. My father had taken an interest in Sylvi’s charm and offered her a position as Emissary within our court when she had turned twenty. She had been delighted by the idea but said it hadn’t felt right to accept.”

Maude tried to process all that was being said and was struggling to align this fantastic woman with who she remembered to be her mother.

“How did she end up married to Helvig then?” Herrick asked his mother, sparing Maude the need to speak the question that was burning through her.

“A year after she had turned the position down, Harald had ascended to the Throne of Flame after the sudden death of his father, preceding the need to marry before he took the crown. We had gotten distressing news from our spies in Logi quickly after his ascension,” Alva answered. “They had intercepted a message meant for Harald about preparing their armies to march on the Kingdom of Rivers.”

Maude saw that Herrick seemed surprised by the information. She still felt numb, unable to do more than listen to this tale of who her mother really was.

“Shortly after that message, there was silence from our spies. No one was able to get through to them. By this point, I was set to marry Njal and take our throne over from my father. Sylvi came to me with an idea for her toserve as our spy; she would travel to Hallifell and make it known that she was a firevitkiin hopes that the Flame Soldiers would find her and bring her to Logi. She would orchestrate the same event that drove her to Veter: she lost her temper and accidentally burnt down an inn outside Dagsbrun. She figured it wouldn’t be difficult to do it again in Hallifell. She never imagined what would happen when she made it to their court.”