Baldr's stomach soured as nausea rose in his throat.
Their sacrifice, Baldr seethed, disgusted.They were innocents.
He had sent a local pit keeper two maps of the palace the day before the General of Rivers had been freed: one of Herrick's location and the other the hidden dungeons he had never been allowed inside of. He'd sent the map in hopes that they could form a rescue party to free thevitkiin the dungeons as well. He had taken a chance on the pit keeper when his contact in Finniskali had mentioned him.Shehad recommended him, and Baldr trusted her more than anyone he knew.
When the prisoners had escaped, Baldr had dragged his feet when responding to the escape. On the shore where they boarded a longship, he had looked for one person in the large group the Kolbeck's had freed but had not been able to finish his search before the red-haired shieldmaiden split the ground in two. Baldr knew that after all these years, Leif was dead.A sacrifice, Vilde had called it.
Flames flickered in his periphery as his anger grew beyond his control. The room started to blur around him until the only thing Baldr could see was Vilde and her proud smirk.
Evil incarnate. A plague on this continent. She had to die.
"It is truly ingenious," Helvig agreed, breaking Baldr from his murderous rage long enough for him to regain control of his fire. "The longer the Kolbeck General wears this band, the more powerful Vilde becomes. So you see, we must begin our first steps toward our conquest of Veter."
"And what of the Elven kingdom in the north? They will not take so kindly to being ruled by a human King who will never live as long as they do," Baldr managed to ask, shifting his focus from the snake who had infiltrated the Kingdom of Flame.
Helvig paused only for a moment before responding, "Careful, General. I may enjoy your efficiency, but I will only tolerate so much disrespect."
Baldr almost snorted. Disrespect? He had no idea howdisrespectfulhe could be to a tyrant. Swallowing his retort, he only nodded as he kept his eyes downcast. He didn't dare push Helvig again by speaking out.
"To answer your question," Helvig continued as he leaned further back into his seat. "The former glory of the Kingdom of Shadows has been handled."
"Yes, leave Aeric and the remnants of his kingdom to me," Vilde purred as she stroked her long fingers over the top of Helvig's hand that rested on the armrest next to hers.
The cryptic reassurance settled over his skin slowly, the choking sensation of dread crawling up his throat made him swallow hard.
Lord Torben cleared his throat loudly.
"Yes?" Helvig sighed, his frustration with the lords' resistance starting to chafe on his patience.
"There is also the matter of your lack of Heir, Your Majesty," the noble said. "With your previous Heir dead, if you were to fall, there would be no one to succeed to the throne."
Vilde chuckled at that statement, the sound slithering through the thick air of the War Room. Baldr froze as he glanced at the King, his features finally losing their good humor as they twisted in anger.
"What is so funny?" The King asked her between clenched teeth.
She turned to face him slowly, her black eyes swallowing any light that reached them. She looked the King up and down, her face giving away none of her thoughts about him before she spoke again.
"The Heir is not dead; she is with the Kolbecks in the Kingdom of Shadows," Vilde said slowly as she watched Helvig take in the news that his daughter was not actually dead.
Baldr knew that Helvig was a cruel man, but he had noticed that the King mourned the death of his daughter. When he received the news that she had fallen in battle, he brought an entire tower down in his rage. None of this meant that Baldr felt the King was good-natured in any way. But loss was loss; there was no explaining the way we react to death. Even kings were subject to grief's claws, no matter how power-hungry and corrupt they may be.
Vilde seemed to be enjoying the brief glimmer of pain that carved Helvig's features apart before he controlled them again.
"How do you know it is my Heir?" Helvig asked, the anger in his voice simmering and forcing his flames to the surface.
The room grew hot, the flames in the far fireplace flaring bigger with each beat of the King's heart. The lords started to shrink back from the growing inferno that would detonate depending on Vilde's next words, but Baldr could only lean forward, his curiosity piquing at the news of the Heir's survival. Did his soul reject grief for the Heir of Flames because she was not actually dead? And if that was the case, how could he know she hadn't left this realm?
More questions with no answers.
Vilde did not respond to Helvig's question; she only watched him with her pitched-black eyes. Waiting. Was she waiting for a particular question? A certain phrasing? Baldr didn't know what the Elven's endgame was with taunting the King, but he watched her with sorrowful interest.
"How do you know Maude is alive?" Helvig growled through his teeth. "Tell me now, woman."
Vilde seemed to reanimate at his change of question, a small smirk twitching upward. Something about why she waited to answer his question until he spoke his Heir's name bothered Baldr, scratching at the back of his mind. He tucked it away to inspect later.
"Her likeness to Sylvi is uncanny," Vilde whispered, her tone vicious despite the volume of her response. Her smile grew wider when Helvig's anger exploded.
"EVERYONE OUT," Helvig roared as he stood from his seat.
