You will know what to do when the time is right.
Herrick worried about the day he would discover Tyr's meaning.
His brother had waved them over to a soldier still wrapped in Maude's shadows, the friendly tendrils tightening in malice around the form suspended from the trees above them. With a nod, Maude unraveled some of the shadows to reveal the manabove them was a high-ranking sergeant— his numerous medals pinned to his chest clear that he was considered battle-tried and successful.
"What should we do with this one?" Hakon asked, his tone cold even as his eyes warmed when Dahlia arrived at Herrick's side.
Herrick wasn't sure his brother was aware of how much he revealed in just his gaze— had he forgotten Eydis so quickly already? But he remained silent as he slipped into his role: the General, who was calculating and cold like the ice that lived in his veins.
"Kill him and be done with it," Dahlia offered, the venom in her words surprising him.
Hakon raised an eyebrow, one side of his mouth lifting in the corner. The Elven healer only held his stare. As they trudged through whatever silent standoff they had with each other, Bryn appeared at Dahlia's side. Her steps were quiet enough that even Herrick hadn't heard her coming. He made a mental note not to underestimate the true Heir of Flame's ability to disappear when she wanted to.
"I agree. He's a liability," Bryn said, her voice low.
Sighing when no one offered another suggestion, Maude lifted one hand and waved it to dispel the shadows that held him. He fell in a crumpled heap— a pile of pale skin and copper hair offset by the swallowing black uniforms Helvig had bedecked his armies in. Bryn brought her hands up in a swift motion, the air she controlled lifting the sergeant and holding him in place so they could execute him in a way that was deserving of a soldier.
The sergeant remained silent, his eyes hateful as he glared at each of them. Baring his teeth at them all, the sergeant tipped his head back and offered his throat to them before growling, "The High King is coming for you all. He is unstoppable now— may the gods spare you because King Helvig will not."
The last of the Elven who had been working around them joined their semi-circle as the woods darkened. The end of the day was near— soon, the woods would be plunged into darkness that Herrick wasn't sure he could navigate with such a large group. There could be more attacks or another group of soldiers lying in wait…
"Wait," Herrick ordered just as Maude had unsheathed theleifrHelafrom her hip, the dark metal seeming to pulse at the idea of fresh blood.
She glanced over her shoulder at him, curiosity in her green eyes that were tinged with relief. She did not want to kill this man with this blade.
"Bring him to Veter," he continued, aware of everyone's focus on him. He could only watch Maude. "He'll have information about Helvig's army that we can get quicker than waiting for a scrap of news that arrives too late."
His eyes flashed to Dahlia's, but she kept her chin high as she absorbed his slicing words. Reluctant admiration swept through him at the Elven's continued strength under his ire. He knew that what he had suffered under Baldr's torment had nothing to do with her, but he couldn't help but be resentful of her defending the bastard.
"And if you want to live," Herrick said to the sergeant, the cold fury in his voice making the man flinch. "You'll warn us of any more attacks that may befall our group."
The man spit, the projectile landing across his face. Herrick only smiled, the act making the sergeant's grin falter as he realized that he was not going to explode from the disrespect like Helvig might have. He felt his mood lighten even as his voice grew darker. A side to him that had thrashed against its restraints for decades crept to the surface, and Herrick knew that when his smile twisted into something mocking, the sergeant was aware of what he was dealing with.
"We're close to the northern bridge," Hakon offered as he conjured vines from the ground to wrap around the sergeant's wrists. "Only a half hour from where we are now. We can make it into the Kingdom of Rivers before night truly falls."
"Do you hear that, sergeant? Only a half hour until we can have some fun," Herrick cooed at his captive.
Behind him, he could hear Maude let out a humorless laugh. He didn't need to turn to know that she had her mask of cruel indifference on despite the fact that she'd shielded her face within the darkness of the hooded cloak she wore.
Though cruelty was not something Herrick had been versed in before, there was that rage-filled side of him that only Hakon and Gunnar had ever seen. He'd learned to control his temper, curbed the vicious desire to tear apart his enemies even if it wassomething their culture encouraged. Instead, he'd become a man who had complete control of himself— nothing could set him off unless he wanted to be set off, and no one could get under his skin unless he wanted them to.
But the man he'd been when he was imprisoned is not the man who was freed. Baldr may have been the instrument, but Helvig's torture shed the restraints Herrick had placed on himself when he was only eight years old until that raw, malicious side of him was the only thing that was left.
45
Liv shouted instructions to a group of soldiers by the front of the Midnight Palace, her orders ringing out over the noisy hall they stood in. They all bowed and headed into Nida to ask civilians if they were willing to host some of thevitkiSigurd brought with him from Logi as even more humans were ushered through the large, polished black doors.
Their numbers had quickly overwhelmed the space available in the palace, so Aeric was currently in the process of politely asking the nobles who tended to stay within the palace walls to return to their homes and estates so that they may house thevitkiin their rooms. While most of the Elven nobles were happy to help their king, Liv took notice of the few who seemed reluctant or were inclined to turn their noses up at the human refugees that had traveled north in search of safety from Helvig.
She committed every name to memory as they passed her in the halls, their disgusted faces marking them.
Since they'd arrived back in Nida the day before, Liv had not had a moment of rest. She'd preferred it that way; otherwise, she would be paralyzed with worry about Bryn and the others. Busy was better for Liv; stagnancy invited a maelstrom of agony that would never leave her.
Instead, in the brief moments her mind was able to wander, Liv entertained herself with being reunited with the vibrant woman she'd been so drawn to. Only a few days apart, and already she cursed her thoughts. It had been too long since Liv had felt like this about someone, and even then, she had never felt this strongly before.
Midsommar's Eve had been disastrous for them. Even if they had parted ways in Hlidestad on good terms, Liv still felt a deep embarrassment about how she'd acted. The high energy of the full moon on one of the biggest solar days of the year had influenced her more than she had realized— the wildness of the forest, the pounding beat of the drums played by other worshippers, the ale that she and Bryn had been drinking before they'd clashed in the quiet, forgotten corner of the cabin they all shared. She had been the driving force and violent cease to their disastrous clash.
By trying to do the right thing, she may have severed any chance with Bryn.
