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“I knew some tough love would snap you right out of your gloom,” Maude said as she patted her hand on Hakon’s cheek a few times.

Hakon swatted her hand away. “I already regret speaking.”

Maude smirked, the twist of her lips feline as she turned to join Bryn in the kitchen, reaching around her to snag the bowl of cooled stew out of her hands and claiming it for herself. Bryn sighed and went to work pouring out another serving, her hands wreathed in flames to warm the bowl.

Liv knew Maude well enough to know she was deflecting her rising tension and anxieties about freeing Herrick through irritating everyone else, but she couldn’t find it in herself to stop her friend.

They all needed the distraction, especially Maude and Hakon.

Just when Liv had settled to finish sharpening her sword and dagger, she noticed the silver ink on Maude and Bryn’s arms.

And froze.

“What did you do?” Liv asked, her voice grave as she pointed to Maude’s arm.

“We were hoping you could tell us,” she responded, her eyes on the silver ink. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“That’s because it is very old galder ,” Liv said as she reached out, her fingers itching to trace the swirling patterns.

“What is it?” Bryn asked from where she leaned against the counter. It was as if she was trying to keep herself separate from the rest of them, much like Maude had done when she first joined them.

Hakon, curious about their change in topic, rose from his chair and walked to where they were seated. He traced the silver tattoo with his eyes, but no recognition appeared.

“It’s a blood oath,” Liv said as she looked at the sisters. “Did you swear something to each other?”

Bryn nodded as Maude spoke, “We swore revenge on our father and that we’d do it together.”

“What do you know about blood oaths?” Bryn asked Liv. She walked over to the table and sat across from her, the tight braids of her copper hair a deep, burnt color in the low lighting of the room.

“Not much,” Liv admitted as uneasiness slithered over the back of her neck, sending chills down her spine. “I know enough to recognize it, but Aeric might know more.”

Maude stiffened but quickly recovered and nodded, returning her attention to her food.

Liv knew that Maude still hadn’t accepted that Aeric was her birth father, so she let the moment pass, unwilling to add more stress to her plate.

The lighthearted air she had brought down the stairs with her had evaporated, the tension of their upcoming task looming over them with every second the dawn neared.

“Then we’ll have to ask him when we return to Nida,” Bryn said, ending the subject. She looked at her sister, and such tenderness flooded her eyes that Liv could only stare for a moment.

Bryn was gorgeous; the pale complexion of her skin complimented the bright copper tint of her hair, and the deep tan freckles splattered across her nose framed her hazel eyes.

Though her face was the same heart shape that Maude had, her slender form made her chin more pointed than her sister's, and her neck was longer and more elegant. Though she resembled her father in many ways, the emotion that poured from Bryn’s eyes when she thought no one was looking set her apart from the cruel King of Flame.

Liv was gawking now. She caught herself before Bryn could notice, tearing her eyes away from the unrecognized Heir of Flames.

“We all need to get some rest before we set out,” Liv said quickly, pushing up from her chair and hastily gathering her weapons. “Sigurd is going to give the signal when the patrols have passed us, and then we need to be on our way. ”

She vanished up the stairs before anyone could speak, but could feel heat trailing her on the back of her neck. She knew if she turned around, hazel eyes would be following her retreat.

Maude sat at the kitchen table for hours, watching as the moonlight trimmed the tall trees and bushes of the oasis behind Sigurd’s house.

Everyone had trickled out of the shared space to get some rest after Liv had suggested it.

Hakon had shot a quick look at her before heading up the stairs, the suspicion he had for her intentions still present, though it grew smaller each day that she didn’t bolt.

She wasn’t angry with him for it; she just hoped that it wouldn’t get in the way tomorrow.

He played a big role in getting them out of Logi safely; he needed to be focused, and he needed to trust her with this mission.

At least, above all else, he trusted her not to hesitate when it came to killing her way through the palace to get them to Herrick's side.

Though Maude had wanted to be the one to melt the bars that held him imprisoned, they had all agreed that Herrick might not trust that it was actually her and not some trick of the Flame King.

She had died in his arms— Maude appearing healthy and healed with no explanation would be hard to explain while also coaxing him out of the cell.

Arguing that he would react poorly no matter who freed him from the cell didn't sway any of her friends.

Bryn had been the one to finally put her foot down and tell Maude to stop being stubborn about it.

Begrudgingly, she had relented and agreed that Hakon's presence would be more readily accepted. Herrick’s safety came first.

After Bryn had gone upstairs—withdrawn after Liv went to bed—Maude had rushed to the bookcase and searched through the pages of the untouched books, the thick layer of dust over the covers an indicator that their mother’s journals had been untouched.

The books with the least dust caught Maude’s eye, and she quickly found the small, leather-bound black books.

They had been sitting in front of her for an hour now, the worn black leather covers taunting her with the secrets that were held beneath their flimsy barriers.

Maude drummed her fingers on the wooden table as she eyed the journals, their restless cadence betraying her anxiety about the rift that was yawning open in front of her.

Her mother had so many secrets, it seemed, and she had written them down in spellbound journals so they would be ready for her daughters when the time came.

She expelled a breath and reached for the journal on top of the pile. Before Maude could open it, however, Sigurd came in through the back door as quiet as a passing shadow.

His boots were almost silent on the worn floors. The cloak he wore flickering around his legs gave his movements away in the dark house. Maude snapped her fingers, and the lone candle in front of her burst to life, the flame flickering tall in the shadows of the living space.

“Shit!” Sigurd exclaimed, his hand going to his axe briefly before he recognized who sat in front of him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Maude said quietly, her feet still propped up on the chair next to her. “Is it time?”

Sigurd shook his head before he removed his cloak. “Not for another few hours. I’m heading down to the fighting pits to recruit some vitki for the morning.”

Maude nodded absently as her eyes rested back on the journals.

“Has Liv told you her plan for the morning?” Sigurd asked as he poured out some ale into two horns for them.

Maude nodded again. Liv had explained the loose plan she and Sigurd had thrown together right before she went upstairs to find Bryn on the roof.

It had shamed Maude at first that she had not thought of it sooner.

Selfishly, she had only focused only on freeing Herrick.

She needed him to be free before she could do anything else, Maude knew how wrong that was.

Herrick would have thought of the other vitki trapped in the dungeons; he would have found a way to free them first.

But she was not going to put Herrick second.

“It’s a good idea,” Maude said when Sigurd placed the horn in front of her. “Nida will be able to offer them sanctuary until we can end this war that’s brewing.”

“This war has been coming for some time now,” Sigurd sighed before he took a long drink.

Maude also took a long pull, the bitterness of the ale hitting the back of her tongue as she swallowed.

Unbidden memories from the tavern in Veter rushed back to Maude.

The sweet bread called bulle that Liv had brought her and Eydis, the ale that had been so refreshing since the hops had been grown by earth vitki , the long hours of the night filled with laughter and jesting.

Despair overwhelmed her at the thought of how simple that moment had been, how her self-fortified walls had begun to wither away.

More than anything, she missed Eydis. Early in their adventure, she had been a bright spot in Maude’s gloom even when she hadn't been able to recognize it yet. The woman had been sheltered most of her life, hiding a secret from the soldiers who claimed to protect her, and when the time came to fight, she didn’t hesitate.

Eydis was a singular force that could not be replicated and her loss would continue to impact their world every day.

Her optimism in the face of danger was already missed.

“You’re different now,” Sigurd said quietly. Maude looked up to find his piercing eyes focused on her.

“Well, I stopped rubbing charcoal into my hair. The disguise I lived in for ten years is gone,” she offered, brushing off his gaze.

“It’s more than that,” he continued. “You carry yourself differently. It’s like you’ve grown into who you were always supposed to be. Some barrier has been crossed.”

“How very wise of you, old friend,” Maude said as she tried to laugh him off. Sigurd had no idea how right he really was.

"You remind me of someone I used to know when I was growing up," he said quietly, ignoring her jest. "I think of her often, wondering if she is well. The haziness of youth has erased her features from my memories, but I remember she was kind. Stubborn, but fiery. "

"She sounds like quite a woman," Maude mumbled as her fingers skated across the worn spine of her mother's journal.

Silence lapsed for only a moment before Sigurd gave her a knowing smile. “So Bryn is your sister and the former Lieutenant General of Flame. Explain that.”

Maude held her tongue. It was dangerous to reveal her identity to Sigurd, but then again, he had walked the fine line between safety and danger all on his own the moment he decided to help the oppressed vitki of Logi.

“Who are you, Maude?” Sigurd asked, but she knew what he was really asking.

The darkness of the living space seemed to swell around them, the shadows growing more opaque in a protective circle around them. Maude realized belatedly that she was the one controlling them. She had created a pocket of safety in anticipation of speaking her truth.

She took a deep breath, the action feeling tight.

“For a long time, my name was Maude Helvig,” she whispered into the darkness, her focus on the candle’s flame and not on the reactions Sigurd was surely playing out on his face. “I was the recognized Heir of Flame.”

Sigurd’s shocked silence screamed more than any words could. She had been living as a lowborn vitki for a decade and had fooled everyone. This was why she had never formed any close friendships. The target on her back was too big, too dangerous, for her to have gotten close to anyone.

But Sigurd had come too close, she'd realized. He had helped her survive and, in that process, had become her friend. It was evident in his eyes that the truth settled uncomfortably with him. She was the titled daughter of his enemy.

Maude didn’t even bother explaining that the King of Flame wasn’t her birth father but rather the man who raised her, thinking she was his blood.

She still hadn’t been able to decipher her true feelings on the matter.

It didn’t change that Maude had grown up with a monster and had been molded by him.

Helvig was the only father she knew, and Maude had spent her entire life as a Helvig.

Barriers she didn’t know had weakened over time turned to ash in her fingers as she sat in front of the first person to show her kindness in her life. Her story poured out of her; every detail that she had shared only with Herrick flooded into the shadowed space that protected them.

Sigurd listened to every word, saying nothing. Finally, Maude reached the end of her tale as she told him about how she left Herrick in Dagsbrun to kill Helvig.

“It feels like all of the blame lies with me,” she continued, her voice strained and hoarse from speaking for so long. “I tried to kill him, and I failed. It’s my fault that he has become more powerful; I played into his tricks like a rage-fueled idiot.”

Sigurd sat across from her at the table, his eyes wary. He didn’t walk away from her, though. He had stayed and listened to her confession.

“I’m going to fix this, but I need Herrick to be out of his grasp first,” Maude finished, her throat thickening again. “He doesn’t deserve to be a prisoner. That is not his fate.”

“We’ll free him,” Sigurd said, his hand tentatively reaching out to pat her arm.

The act was kind but foreign to Maude, so she tried not to flinch. The shadows surrounding them thinned and finally receded as she calmed her racing heart. The candle lit up the rest of the room once more.

“I need to head down to the pits; we’re running out of time,” Sigurd reminded her, his words pulling her back to the task ahead of her."You should rest for a while, you'll need your strength."

Lying in a bed while her mind continued to race over all the possible failures that could arrive with the sunrise was the last thing Maude wanted to do.

“I’ll come with you,” she offered, standing and grabbing the journals from the table.

She packed them into the bags that Sigurd would store on the longship that would bring them back to Nida before wrapping a long strip of fabric intended for first aid around her waist and fashioning it into a hood that she pulled over her head. “I could use a fight right now.”

Sigurd chuckled as he pulled the bookcase open, which led to the underground corridor connecting the house to the fighting pits.

“That’s the Maude I know,” he said as she breezed past him into the tunnel.