Herrick cracked his eyes open to see the back wall of his cell. His confusion warred with his pitiful relief that he was alone as he shifted onto his back, his muscles screaming in protest. Next to him was a tray with the same watery broth and cup of water he had been served for every supper. The iron band around his throat wasstill present, but the chain it was attached to offered a bit more freedom than his previous shackles, so Herrick was able to reach for his now cold meal.
When he finished slurping the broth, Herrick turned to move the blanket he slept on to see if he had been able to mark any of the last few days on his makeshift calendar. He tried not to let the mysterious haze that clouded his memory frighten him, but even as he tried to swallow that fear, he could feel it tightening around his throat like the noose he was destined for.
The corner that hid the scratches in the floor was lumpy like the blanket had bunched up when it was kicked to the corner. When Herrick touched the bulging area, his fingers registered something hidden underneath.
With paralyzed breath and shaking fingers, he pulled the corner of the blanket back to reveal a small, round tin and a torn slip of paper. Written in a neat hand, the note held only three words:
For the burns.
Herrick gingerly opened the tin, the strong scent of aloe vera, comfrey, and lavender reaching him. Cautiously, he dipped his fingers into the salve and brought the mixture to his chest, where a smaller welt from Baldr's burning fingers had torn through the ink that held the runes for strength in the scales of his dragon tattoo.
Bastard, Herrick thought as he remembered how Baldr had targeted certain runes.
As soon as the mixture touched his mangled skin, cooling relief washed over him like the waters surrounding his home in Veter. It reminded him of when Herrick tried to escape his duties as a child by swimming in the streams. Trying to spare most of the salve, Herrick treated only the worst burns on his body. His jaw was the most damaged, the skin still throbbing from the heat Baldr had held to it.
Once he felt he had treated enough of his body to allow it to relax, Herrick's thoughts drifted to what Baldr had said as he departed.
The High King is being crowned today.
So Helvig was crowning himself as High King of Ahland. With the Bone Dagger, Herrick supposed he could crown himself as whatever the prick wanted. Curled up tightly into himself, he felt his body break out in a sweat as nausea barreled through him when remembering how brilliantly they had all failed. His idiotic faithin the gods and their plan had him lead his friends to the Knotted Caverns to retrieve a weapon he thought would help them end Helvig's rule over the Kingdom of Flame.
Herrick thought of his parents and how the Kingdom of Rivers would resist Helvig's proclamation of power over Ahland. They would assemble their armies—armiesheshould be commanding—to march on Logi against Helvig. As far as Herrick was concerned, the treaty between their kingdoms was null and void. His parents would feel the same way.
By crowning himself as High King, Helvig broke the treaty, but by handing him the weapon he needed to do it, Herrick tore it to shreds. By loving the fiery Heir of Flame, Herrick had broken the treaty. Wherever the blame went, it started and ended with Herrick's utterly ignorant faith in the gods. He was the one to blame for the oppression the Flame King would sweep over his country and the war that would plague them all.
Sometime later, footsteps clicked down the corridor, stirring Herrick from a fitful rest. His mind had spun with self-hatred as he tried and failed to find a point in his journey to find thedalkr Helawhere he should have made another choice. Herrick had chosen to go after the weapon, and there had been no convincing him otherwise.
Eventually, he'd drifted into a semi-conscious state where memories of soft, heated skin under his fingers and piercing eyes so dark green they were almost black haunted him. He had dreamt of her again— how she had moved beneath him when they had finally joined together, how her breathing turned to soft pants as they came together, the way she fueled a desire in him so strong that he nearly became the beast she always called him.
When the footsteps stopped in front of his cell, Herrick finally cracked his eyes open and stared at the ceiling.
"Good, you're up."
Baldr's voice drifted through the iron bars, wrapping around Herrick's trembling muscles as he tried to remain still, unbothered.
"I trust you've rested," Baldr continued as he unlocked the cell and entered, waving the guards away as he always did. "You've got a long day ahead of you."
Herrick closed his eyes and briefly allowed his strength to fail as he thought of his friends andher. Then, he let the memories of his friends, the memories of her, bolster him as he pulled himself off the floor before Baldr could do it and face his torturer.
"I can take it," Herrick responded, thinking of how she would never bend or break for anyone.
His thoughts of Maude had him straightening his spine as he allowed his hands to be chained once more.
"We'll see," Baldr said with a sly smile, his fingers burning with his golden fire.
Neither confession nor plea sounded from Herrick's lips as he withstood the torture from the General of Flame. Only the sound of Herrick's screams being ripped from his lungs would be heard through the halls of the empty dungeons below the Palace of Wind and Embers.
Maude was ripped from her nightmares as she gasped for breath. Her fatemark was blistering on her skin, the branches ofYggdrasilpulsing with each of her rapid heartbeats. An icy wind swept in through the open windows of her room in the Midnight Palace, cooling her scorched skin as dread washed through her.
She had dreamt of Herrick screaming, his voice guttural as if he had been shouting for hours. She could still hear his pain echoing in her skull.
Pooled around her waist, the deep purple silk sheets felt wrong compared to the darkness of the dungeon Maude had just dreamt of. She knew it had only been a dream, but it had to be similar to the conditions Herrick must be in… if he was even still alive.
Immediately banishing that option from her mind, she focused on calming her roaring heart as she focused on Herrick. Sure that it was only her overactive imagination being fueled by her worry for him, she tried to separate the dream of him from her memories. He hadalways been so lively, so full of energy that quickly became infectious even if she would never admit it to him. Maude wasn't sure how she knew, but she couldfeelthat he was still alive in Logi.
Unable to sit still, Maude ripped herself from the silken sheets and paced in front of the window that looked over Nida. When the rhythmic back and forth of her pacing stopped working, she launched into a workout routine she used to complete when she was confined to her room or couldn't risk showing her face in Logi after a run-in with the palace soldiers. Through pushups, squats, sit-ups, and pull-ups using the ledge of the window, Maude exercised until sweat ran down her spine and coated her skin in a thick layer of salt. It got a little easier every day, her endurance building back to its original strength slowly but surely.
By the time her mind had calmed enough to notice, the violet hues of dawn were peeking over the high mountaintops surrounding this Elven city. The tall moonstone spiral buildings, which lay in a half-circle around the bay, were bright under the moon, and the carved stone was seamless in its construction.
