Page 23

For weeks, Herrick had tried to keep the memory of Maude and her fire separate from Baldr's flames as he tortured him over and over again.

At some point, the wall between them must have slipped in his mind.

The hurt that crossed her face told Herrick that she had not expected him to react that way— he couldn't blame her, nothing could have prepared him for how her flames made him feel so soon after his imprisonment.

They were plunged into darkness again as Maude extinguished her fire, leaving Herrick feeling like the walls that had started to turn in on him were finally being pushed back again.

"I know the way," Maude whispered, her voice hoarse. "I can lead us in the dark."

He could feel her moving away from him, that tether between them pulling at his gut until he followed her and caught her hand in his again.

She was stiff under his touch, but her hand slowly loosened as she gripped his fingers tighter than before.

As she led them through the darkness, Herrick ran his finger over the inside of her wrist and over her pulse.

It was rapid, but it was real and proof that she still lived and breathed in this realm.

How was he supposed to explain himself to her? How was he supposed to tell her what had been done to him? How was he supposed to tell her that he had given up at the end, that Baldr had almost broken him?

After what could have been hours later, they emerged from the dark halls into the light of the late afternoon heat.

The dry desert air was a relief after weeks of breathing the damp air of the cells.

Herrick would have to bask in it later, though, since Maude was already pulling him behind the soldier's barracks.

He knew that Helvig was hosting a false coronation for himself today, but the barracks should have still had some patrols or officers nearby.

Herrick quickly put together the pieces of information he already had: the anonymous helper, the perfect timing of his rescue, and the lack of guards in areas that normally had them.

“There’s someone on the inside helping you,” Herrick whispered as they crouched in the heavy brush surrounding the barracks, searching for any soldiers.

“Yes,” Maude bit out.

Her answer made him uneasy. There was more to it than just an innocent bystander helping them. She looked at him then, her hair burning ruby under the heavy sunlight, even under the hood.

“Later,” she whispered, seeing the questions in his eyes. “Trust me.”

Though the act should have been easy for him, Herrick found himself hesitating. There was a lot of this story missing, but Maude had come for him. He should be able to trust her as he always had.

But that was before she had run from him.

Hurt flashed in her eyes again at whatever she saw in Herrick's hesitation, but he squeezed his hand in reassurance.

She looked away, signaling with a sharp burst of a whistle, and waited.Silence rang for longer than it should have if the tension in Hakon and Maude’s shoulders were any indicator. Then, a short, repeated whistle came from a distance over the low wall that led to the docks.

Hakon and Maude relaxed before they started moving again. They cleared the wall and landed on the soft sands of the shore that housed the unused docks belonging to the palace. In the water, a gorgeous two-deck longship floated in the distance.

Standing side by side, Hakon and Maude wrangled their galder and together brought the vessel close enough for them to swim out to it.

The tension that had been between them disappeared as Hakon pulled the tides around the longship toward him, and Maude shifted the wind into the sails to make the process faster.

Soon, the ship was loosely docked with the onboarding ramp lowered so they could board. Liv and Bryn would have to arrive quickly before they ran out of time.

“Get on board, Herrick,” Hakon said, his tone unyielding.

“I’m not leaving her side,” he responded, his eyes never leaving Maude’s form.

“Listen to him, beast,” Maude said through her teeth, the effort to keep the wind from pulling the ship back out to sea wearing her down quickly. “We came all this way for you. I can’t risk letting you get caught in any more fighting and have you end up in their—”

She cut herself off before she could say more, but Herrick knew she was close to begging him to stay on the ship.

Her pride wouldn’t allow it, though. He saw the desperation in her eyes and nodded quickly, retreating onboard.

As the lower decks of the longship closed around him, the iron around his neck burned hotter, swallowing his galder and his strength in huge torrents.

Until he could get the iron off his throat, Herrick couldn’t help but feel like he was just in another cage.

Bryn stepped silently through the deserted halls leading to her chambers.

She had made an impulse decision to go to her rooms, her gut pulling her through the corridors she had grown up in.

She didn’t know what was waiting for her there, but she knew it was important.

Some intrinsic part of her knew the path would be safe.

She tried not to examine the feeling too closely.

Coming up to the entrance closest to her room, she thought of Revna again. Bryn knew that being here was going to bring forth some of their memories, but the otherworldly presence that clung to the walls here felt too conscious to be just a reminder.

The markings over the door indicated she was in the right place, so she pressed her ear to the wall and listened. When absolute silence rang out, she gently pushed the secret entrance open to an empty corridor right in front of her door.

Drawing her sword, Bryn inched her way over to her room.

Prepared for any kind of trap, she pushed open her door and found only stale air and the scent of her clothes to greet her.

For a moment, Bryn was insulted that her father cared so little for her that her belongings remained untouched in the face of her deceit.

Then she remembered that her father was likely so wrapped up in his power that he had probably forgotten Bryn’s betrayal and deemed it unworthy of further thought.

She chuckled once, the sound dead and dry, before she advanced into the room. She lifted the block of stone that protected her most valuable possessions and kneeled to retrieve the journal she had come for.

Laid on top of the journal was a neatly folded note addressed to her, the script familiar and elegant. Bryn froze.

The letter was from Revna, an unknown goodbye left to her from the halls of Valhalla. She could only stare at the paper sitting atop a pile of journals Revna must have known that Bryn would look for one day.

With shaking hands, Bryn retrieved the letter and stashed it in the leather vest she wore over her tunic, the blood on her hands staining the paper just as it tarnished her fingers and her soul.

She quickly retrieved her mother's memories, gathered up the silk robe she had inherited, and grabbed the rest of the weapons she had stored in the room.

With impartial eyes, Bryn scanned the room that had been hers for most of her life.

She had grown up here, had nursed her wounds here, had found her love with Revna here.

Every memory of who she was permeated the walls of these rooms. The person she’d had to be when she started playing a double agent for the resistance bloomed here.

Now, that person would burn here.

Bryn raised her free hand in front of her and summoned her fire.

Wreathed in flames, she extended her hand and shot a torrent of heat into the room and set her past ablaze.

Without a single glance backward, Bryn walked out of the burning room, leaving behind the woman who had put duty above love in the ashes.