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Bryn felt hollow as she kneeled on the floor, her sister’s body limp in her arms. She traced her hand over Maude’s features, her face relaxed and peaceful in a way she had never seen before.

The large man to her right was still running his hands over Maude’s arms and hair, desperately trying to coax life into her.

His shirt was torn down the front from his struggle to get to Maude before Ulf killed her. Bryn could spy the fatemark, vegvisir , on his chest. This must be the General of Rivers, then.

“Maude, you can’t go,” he whispered in her ear, his tears still splashing onto her inanimate face. “I’m not ready to let you go. We didn’t have any time.”

Bryn’s throat burned with the emotion she was keeping buried inside of her. If she let go now, her galder would destroy whatever part of the palace that was still standing.

Maybe she should let it.

The commotion behind them grew as the group from the Kingdom of Rivers finished off the last of the soldiers.

The man who looked like the General of Rivers with different coloring was kneeling by the older warrior and helping him to his feet.

Belladonna poisoning, her father had said.

Kneeling in front of them was a tall woman with midnight skin and long braids running down her back .

Bryn realized that the woman was screaming at the General of Rivers, but it seemed he couldn’t hear her either.

“Herrick, we have to move now ,” the woman begged.

“I can’t leave her here, Liv,” Herrick snapped, never taking his eyes off Maude.

“She’s right,” Bryn offered quietly, unable to bring her voice above a whisper as she stared at her sister. “More soldiers will already be on their way. There won’t be another window of opportunity to escape.”

“We go north, to the mountains,” the woman named Liv agreed, scanning Bryn as she spoke. “You’ll come with us.”

Herrick ignored them all as he still spoke to Maude in hushed tones, his grief open for everyone to see, the cloying feeling of it heavy in the air.

So much death today, and for what? For her father to have still been victorious. He had played them all like instruments of his own design. He had known Bryn was deceiving them, had known what Maude really searched for, had known that Maude would bring the weapon back to kill him in her rage.

And Revna. Her raven.

Bryn closed her eyes, shoving away the weighted curtain of sorrow that threatened to consume her.

“You don’t even know me,” Bryn argued when she finally found her voice.

Liv gave her a soft look before putting her hand on Bryn’s. Her fire stirred at the touch.

“Maude loved you; she trusted you,” she said. “You are her sister. That's all we need to know.”

“Come on!” one of the men shouted from down the hall.

The thundering sound of boots on the stone came from the opposite end of the hall. Bryn looked down at her sister, her red hair the same color as the blood that stained the stone floor beneath her. Bryn lowered her forehead to her sisters.

“There is nothing to forgive, sister,” Bryn whispered. “I love you.”

Her voice cracked as Bryn lowered Maude to the floor, brushing her sister's hair from her face. Herrick was being pulled off the floor by Liv, fighting to stay by Maude’s side.

“We can’t leave her here!” he shouted.

Bryn stood in front of him and grabbed his shoulders. He was taller than she was, his dark hair disheveled from fighting, and his face wracked with grief.

“She wouldn’t want you to die here defending her dead body,” Bryn snapped, bringing Herrick’s attention to her. “Live now to fight for her later.”

Golden brown eyes stared through her, not really seeing anything, but what Bryn knew was the memory of Ulf's knife embedding into Maude’s chest.

“Let’s go,” Liv said as she ushered Herrick away.

They all ran down the hall, Herrick and Bryn trailing behind the others as if the weight of leaving behind their loved one was slowing them.

Bryn looked over her shoulder, unable to turn the corner without seeing her sister one more time, but Maude was lost amongst the remains of the Flame Soldier's bodies, who lay scattered in the crumbling hall.

Herrick felt nothing, heard nothing, saw nothing but the knife that had stolen Maude from him. Liv was pulling him away from his fire while Hakon was carrying Gunnar. He couldn’t leave her here alone; he needed to stay with her .

Hazel eyes, the same as Helvig’s, stared him down through a thick coating of dried blood that had been smeared on her face. Framed by wild copper hair that had been braided back, Bryn, Maude’s sister, spoke to him, her words cutting through the haze.

Hair like a living flame , Maude had once said about her sister during those early morning hours she had been laying in his arms, safe.

“She wouldn’t want you to die here defending her dead body,” she said, her tone sounding exactly as exasperated as Maude could be. “Live now to fight for her later.”

Before Herrick could really process what Bryn had said, he was being ushered away from Maude.

He automatically ran side by side with Bryn, both looking weighed down by their grief.

Bryn looked over her shoulder but shook her head as they turned the corner.

Herrick could only focus on putting one foot in front of the other as he replayed the last moments before Maude… Before she…

Helvig had told them all how he had planned this from the beginning, even before Maude was born. Herrick had seen his brother's face, his distrust clear, but Herrick also saw how shaken Maude was. She’d had no idea about any of it, and neither had Bryn.

When Helvig had spoken about Gunnar and the belladonna poisoning, fear had filled him. There was a cure, Herrick knew that, but he worried that they were too late. The idea of his closest friend dying because they had brushed off his symptoms was the only reason Herrick kept moving forward now.

Herrick had called her name because he had seen the look on her face when she tracked her father’s departure.

He knew that Maude would go after him with everything she had.

It would have gotten her killed. But then Bryn screamed, seeing the dagger aiming for her ribs.

Maude had looked between the two of them and made her choice .

Ice infiltrated every cell in his body as he watched Maude throw herself between her uncle and her sister, taking the killing blow that was meant for Bryn.

Her sister had reached over Maude and removed their uncle's head from his shoulders, but it was too late. Herrick couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move as he watched Maude fall into her sister's arms, her blood pouring freely onto the stone.

Herrick was yanked back into his body as he heard the rapid footsteps of Flame Soldiers coming up behind them. They had reached the northern palace walls and were just starting to scale them when Herrick slowed.

There wasn’t enough time.

Bryn was already over the top, but Hakon was still helping Gunnar. Liv was just beginning to climb when she realized Herrick was stepping back, closer to the soldiers. Realization dawned on her features as she opened her mouth to speak, but Herrick stopped her.

“You have to go,” Herrick said quietly. “I will hold them off long enough for you to get Hakon and Bryn out of this city. Find Gunnar a healer in the north. Just go.”

“Herrick, you’re outnumbered,” Liv called as he turned his back to his friend.

“Then this will be a challenge I welcome,” he said, drawing his axe as the first soldier got close enough for Herrick to swing his blade through the thick muscles of the soldier's neck. “Go, Liv. I’ll catch up.”

“Liar,” she shouted.

Herrick turned for a second and grinned before diving into another battle for his friend's lives. Every soldier that met Herrick’s blade perished under its edge, sending them all to Hel.

“I guess you’ll just have to find out,” he shouted back to her as Liv crested the wall. “Goodbye, my friend. ”

His friends were safe, and Bryn was safe; that was all that mattered. Maude’s sacrifice would not go unheeded.

Exhaustion weighed in Herrick’s limbs as soldier after soldier tried to cut their way to him. His chances of escape were slim, but he would rather die here where the woman he loved had perished. To die here would mean he would see Maude in Valhalla soon.

He welcomed the idea, brought it into his heart, and found peace there.

A sharp pain came from behind his eyes, and the world went dark.

I’m coming, minn eldr , he thought to himself as he drifted into darkness.

Pain was the first thing Herrick registered as he came back to consciousness. Pain everywhere— his head, his body, his heart.

His mouth was sticky, and a thick coating over his tongue made it hard for him to swallow as he tried to sit up. The ground beneath him was slightly damp, the cold seeping into his very bones and numbing him to everything. He welcomed it.

Opening his eyes, Herrick thought he might have gone blind, but as his eyes adjusted, he saw that he was in a cell with very little light. Only the torches from further down the hall told Herrick that this was a prison cell.

In front of him was a pitcher of water; the condensation running down the side reminded Herrick of how thirsty he was.

He reached for the pitcher only to hear the clinking of metal on metal.

He looked down and saw deep gray cuffs on his wrists, binding them together.

Chains ran from the wall behind him to the cuffs, giving him very little room to move without chafing his skin.

He reached for the pitcher only to find that it was too far. Bastards.

Diving deep inside himself, Herrick reached for his galder . He could manipulate the water out of the pitcher. But it didn’t matter how deep he dove. Herrick could not find his galder .

“You won’t be able to use your galder while in those cuffs,” a smooth voice came from outside the metal bars that caged Herrick in. “Though, you’ve probably already realized that, General.”

Normally, Herrick would have had more of a reaction to his current circumstances, but he felt nothing. Maude’s death left him a shell of who he was, and nothing would pull him from that. Herrick sat up and leaned back against the wall he was chained to, waiting for Helvig to continue speaking.

“My daughter, and Heir, is dead.” Ice settled heavier in Herrick’s chest. “I know my foolish brother was the one to do it. Rest assured; he has been burnt to ash and scattered into the desert winds without honor.”

Helvig’s voice quaked with barely restrained anger.

Rest assured . Herrick could do no such thing.

He studied the man who sired the woman he loved and found no resemblance. Helvig was a tall man, yes, but his coloring was so different from Maude's. He was light where she was dark. Maude must have taken after her mother more than anyone else.

The way Helvig spoke about her death stuck out in Herrick’s mind. Helvig was angry about his daughter's death. Furious.

Interesting .

“Your friends got away, along with my second daughter,” Helvig continued. “They outran my soldiers, probably because of Brynna and her affinity for wind.”

Herrick was silent; only dim relief washed through him at the news of his friend's escape.

“They will find only ice and death in the north. They’ll turn back up here soon enough when they hear of your capture, though.”

Helvig’s gloating tone did nothing to aggravate Herrick. He was a broken shell that could not be filled .

“Speak, boy,” Helvig demanded, but still Herrick said nothing, only sat there and watched his enemy play with his new toy.

Helvig laughed, the sound dry and sinister.

“You’ll be singing soon enough, General,” he said, turning to leave. “Welcome to the Kingdom of Flame.”

Footsteps echoed until they disappeared altogether.

Herrick deflated, his unbothered act taking whatever energy he might have had left.

He didn’t care that he was thirsty, he didn’t care that he was Helvig’s prisoner, he didn’t even care that he smelled of rust and salt from all the soldiers he had slaughtered.

Herrick thought only of Maude: how her skin had felt against his, how her laugh had been like the answer to the question of his existence, how she argued with him over everything.

The silky strands of her hair as they fell over her shoulders, her breaths that came fast and uneven when he was moving inside her.

Every memory, every touch, every word exchanged replayed in Herrick’s mind over and over. He lay down on his side, the weight of his loss overwhelming him, and let his grief crash around him, consuming him from the inside out.

Maude was dead, and the half of his soul that belonged to her was dead too. Oblivion descended on him, hard and fast. Herrick welcomed it with open arms and a broken soul.