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Maude could only watch as Herrick zeroed in on the soldier in front of him, his borrowed longsword slashing down in a devastating blow that would knock normal men to their asses under its strength.

The man Herrick was fighting seemed to be a seasoned warrior, though, as he quickly regained his footing against the onslaught.

The tall warrior had a similar build to most of the fighters Maude had met in her lifetime: wide shoulders, a strong chest, sure footing, and an air of calm that could only be achieved through years of training. He was clearly in charge of this attack, but who was he?

It was then that Maude spied the gold pins and stars associated with the title of General across the strangers chest.

So this was the person who replaced her uncle and sister, who stood at the right-hand side of their enemy.

Maude knew Helvig well enough to know that he would usually only choose from the purest of bloodlines to lead his armies, but this man didn't look like most of those who hailed from the Kingdom of Flame nobility.

His coloring was off— his skin a deep bronze rather than the fair, milky white of those who avoided the harsh sun's rays, his black hair absorbing whatever light it captured.

The black uniform was tailored to move with his body, the slim fit cutting harsh lines across his shoulders and waist in a way that told Maude this man was not turned away from women's beds.

A shudder ran through her at the thought, a revulsion so deep in her gut that she felt nauseated.

Strange , Maude mused to herself as she cut down the final soldier standing in her way. The nausea subsided just as that tether that seemed to tie her to Herrick thrummed to life, pulling her forward.

She needed to get to Herrick's side. The rage that was coursing through him was palpable in the way the temperature around them dropped, even when his galder was being restricted.

Every blow he landed on the General of Flame was blocked but never returned, and no open blow to Herrick was ever taken.

It was as if this new General refused to fight back.

Before Herrick noticed it, Maude saw the opening he would need to kill this man before he could become a problem for them.

Except when Maude imagined Herrick landing that killing blow, her instincts kicked in, and she repelled the image with an intensity that frightened her. She didn't truly understand why, but Herrick could not kill this stranger.

The otherworldly presence that she had gotten used to trusting when it came to avoiding the path to her fate swirled around her shoulders, almost pushing her forward to intervene in what she could see would be the duel-ending blow.

The gods were telling her to stop this fight, to stop Herrick from killing this stranger.

For once, she tried trusting that sensation of the Norns guiding her. Maude did not think; she only acted.

Sprinting forward, she sheathed her sword before ducking to swipe the shield of a fallen Flame Soldier.

Herrick's longsword began its arc down onto the unsuspecting General who— Maude could see from her angle— was flicking fireballs toward his own soldiers behind his back.

Putting on a final burst of speed, Maude instinctively pulled on her galder and shot out a ramp of ice under her feet so she would reach them in time.

Shield raised above her head, Maude hoped that Herrick would forgive her for taking this kill from him.

Maude's arms quaked under the force of Herrick's blow, its strength reverberating through the flimsy wood and into her very bones.

Behind her, the shocked exhale from the General brushed against her shoulder, the familiar gardenia and molten iron scent triggering an old memory that slipped away before she could grasp it.

They locked eyes over her shoulder, the intense silver grey of his eyes wide as they held each other's stare for a moment before he pivoted and ran, shouting orders to retreat as the wind picked up in the enemy ship's sails.

"We need to get back to our ship," Maude shouted over the chaos of retreat as she stood from her crouched position. "Come on!"

In front of her, Herrick remained rooted in place.

The disbelief and betrayal that was etched into his features made her feel like her legs were going to give out the longer he looked at her like that.

Of course he wasn't going to understand why she stood in his way, and she needed to explain herself, but how could she even begin to tell him that for once, she had felt the pressing need to follow the nudging of the fates?

That she had no better explanation than that?

She reached for Herrick's arm to pull him from his paralyzed state, but before her skin could touch him, he jerked his arm away from her and turned abruptly.

Stalking away from her, Maude could feel her heart ripping apart at the seams, could feel him taking the broken pieces with him.

All the fire in her veins died out as he walked away from her, the icy rain pelting her skin and dousing her ever-present fury that kindled the flames.

The rain that entered the space around her turned to snow the closer it got to her as her water galder reacted to her sorrow, radiating the chill she was starting to feel in her muscles.

Silence rang in her ears, the sound of retreat and men dying drowning away with every step Herrick took. He didn't look over his shoulder, didn't look for her.

It wasn't until she could hear Bryn calling for her that Maude began to move again, stumbling to the narrow walkway that bridged the two ships together as they began to pull away from each other.

She followed her sister's coaxing words until she reached the midpoint between each ship.

The sea raged beneath her in a fury that she was unable to match for once.

Her head spun as she looked down into the chaotic waves, the board beneath her boots shaking from the strain of holding her in place.

Just when Maude thought she might just fall and take her chances with Njord, the god of the sea, hands wrapped around her arms and pulled her to the safety of the longship. Muffled voices broke through the haze she was in as she watched Herrick disappear below deck .

She didn't care. With every step he took away from Maude, he unraveled her until whatever was left on the deck was little more than an exposed nerve in a sea of chaos and uncertainty.

Herrick made it to the small cabin beneath the ship deck just as the sun broke through the storm clouds that mirrored his incensed soul as it churned and darkened with every pounding beat of his heart.

He grabbed the small stool that sat in the corner of the cramped space with one hand, flinging it over his head at the back wall.

It smashed into the dark wood, splintering apart with sharp cracks that echoed in the silent room.

She stopped him from killing Baldr. He had him, but instead, she spared his worthless life.

Chest heaving, Herrick ran his hands roughly through his hair.

His fingers got caught in various knots, the jarring halt to his frustration putting him over the edge again.

The iron around his throat burned incessantly, sapping at his rise in galder that was reacting to his tumultuous state.

His veins froze over before the iron stole it from him again.

Needing to move— needing to feel something other than the ripping sensation in his chest that Maude incited when she shielded Baldr from his killing blow— Herrick paced around the small space until his fury crested again.

He slammed his fist into the dirty glass of the window, shattering the hazy barrier.

Sharp, burning pain sliced through his knuckles as the tinkling of shards of glass fell to the floor.

The familiar scent of rust and salt saturated the room as Herrick's wounded hand bled onto the floor, staining the pieces of the window crimson.

" Gods damn it ," Herrick bellowed as the pain in his knuckles doubled, his adrenaline leaving him as fast as it arrived so it could dull the pain in his hand.

Shame coiled deep in his gut at his loss of control; the years of compartmentalization and grounding had slipped from his grasp the moment he realized that Maude had robbed him of his chance at revenge.

Herrick had not lost control like this in years. This was not like him.

Or is it exactly who you are, Prince? The voice whispered into his mind, its shadows slithering into the darkest corners of his mind and placing doubt where it echoed. We are the same, in the end. The rage in your heart is a black hole that only grows as it consumes everything in its path.

I only feel this way because my revenge was stolen from me , Herrick responded internally to the voice that had become a more sentient presence every hour he was forced to bear that iron band.

And how sweet that revenge would have been if she hadn't chosen him over you , it whispered, the malevolence in its voice gilded with delight at his suffering.

Herrick tried to ignore the words meant to spark loathing, but found he was already thinking the same hateful thing.

They had turned around, heading back north toward an Elven city that he had only heard stories of. But the idea of sailing to the last Elven city in Ahland was not the most unbelievable part of this day. It wasn't even that Maude was alive when Herrick had watched the life leave her body.

It was that Maude would stop him from killing his torturer. He had not gotten the chance to tell her who he was and why he deserved to die, but he thought she knew him well enough to see the absolute need he had to finish that fight.