So on this day, the day that marks Maude's sixth winter in this world, I think of him and pray to the gods that he is happy and healthy even if he never hears my voice again.
Baldr tried to do the math in his head— the Queen of Flame had died ten years ago when the Heir was sixteen. This would make this entry twenty years old now. So he and the Heir were born in the same year, he surmised.
He blinked a few times as the information settled in him. Rapidly, different fragments of information started to throw themselves at him: he'd grown up an orphan, bouncing from home to home in Logi for as long as he could remember until he'd gone out on his own, memories of a white-haired older woman caring forhim, the ability to read the words in the Queen of Flame's journal when no one else could…. the inexplicable connection he felt with the Heir when their paths crossed.
The room started to spin as he lifted his head to look out the open flap of the tent, his hands shaking as he stowed the journal away into his pack.
Could it be true? Or had he manifested this convoluted path of explanation out of loneliness?
The question he feared would never be answered burned in Baldr's soul: who was the Queen of Flame writing about in that entry?
Hours later, perched on the back of a black war horse, Baldr sat stone-faced by Helvig's side at the rear of the army as they infiltrated the Lamenting Woods.
The Lieutenant General of Rivers had provided the hidden path they needed to follow in order to cross the threshold into Veter. Already, the lavender rays of the dawning sun had started to peek over the horizon. He was sure that Kolbeck was ready; his warnings had been sent within plenty of time to prepare. He assumed they had arrived since the northern scouts he'd sent out had not returned, and he doubted that they had deserted the cause.
Helvig inspired only the most hateful thoughts in his soldiers— insisted on it.
"We're breaking through the tree line," one of the sergeants shouted from ahead.
"Hold your position!" Baldr ordered. "Your Majesty, I must insist again that you should remain behind in this battle. Leave the fight to your soldiers."
Helvig snorted, his dark honey hair tinged with red in the growing sun. "I shall stay and watch at the very least. I've been patiently waiting for this day to arrive. I want to be here when Alva surrenders."
"Yes, Your Majesty," Baldr murmured, keeping his focus peeled on the horizon.
Remorse gnawed at him as he tried to prepare for what they were about to do. Surely, countless would die as their armies clashed. They had not even brought their entire force, and they still outnumbered the Kingdom of Rivers soldiers by ten to one.
It would be a slaughter.
Though he had been caught up in his vile mood since he'd stepped out of his tent, Vilde's absence had not gone unnoticed. She wasn't at Helvig's side, as a Queen should be when their armies were about to attack.
His mood darkened as he realized she was probably still tearing her way through the lives of innocent families for the children'sgalder. Flames flickered in his periphery, the fury of his realization burning through whatever hesitation he was having about maintaining his position at Helvig's side.
He would help those families escape the wicked Elven's clutches, even if it meant he had to sacrifice his life to do so.
Ahead of them, he could see through the trees and the heavy mist of the early morning that still clung to the ground all the way to the perimeter the Kingdom of Rivers had created. Giant spikes carved from fallen trees jutted out at them in close-knit clusters all the way around the camp until a small break in the front. It was there that Herrick Kolbeck, General of Rivers, stood in front of his army with his battle axe in hand.
The man was a beast of a warrior— dressed only in trousers and a tunic that hung openly in the front to display his iron-free neck and numerous burn marks, all granted to him under Baldr's hand.
The sight made him sick. He swallowed roughly at the evidence of his brutality. He had to be merciless in case Helvig ever came to supervise the questioning, which he had frequently. Those were the sessions Baldr had erased from Herrick's mind in an attempt to preserve his mind.
It may have been a small mercy, but that didn't change the things he had done.
At his side was Hakon Kolbeck, Heir of Rivers, and on his other side was Brynna Helvig. The Heir of Flame was nowhere to be found, even as he searched the many faces gathered behind them.
He searched until he stumbled upon dark amethyst gaze. Heat rippled through him as their eyes met across a battlefield where he was fighting for the wrong side. His every muscle burned with the need to reach her side, to throw down his sword and shed the Flame armor he wore, and join the people he truly fought for.
Her pupils flared as she recognized him, giving him only the smallest of nods that she saw him.
All this time, he'd dreamed of what it would be like to see her again and how he would feel. And now she stood before him, her ears curved and hidden beneath her braids with her twin daggers drawn in opposition to the army he fought with.
Yes, he was a spy for her. Yes, he was only here to gather intel. But it still wounded him to be on the conflicting side of his Dahlia.
Herrick raised his axe into the air with one hand, a single battle cry on his tongue as he led his soldiers toward slaughter. They didn't have the numbers; they both knew that.
But Baldr had his duty, and Herrick had his.
Only now, Baldr needed to stay alive long enough to free the families from Vilde's evil clutches. The thought invigorated him as he eyed up the Flame Soldiers lined up in front of him, marking each and every one of them for death as he swore to the Allfather that he would make amends for his crimes one way or another.
