"King Helvig has been hiding a great secret from the rest of Ahland," Astrid said quietly, her words heavy as they wove into the eather. "He has been promised an Elven Queen Consort to rule at his side. Thevitkiprisoners grew very well acquainted with this promised Consort over the last five years. Many would slip into the Void between realms at her heinous touch, and many of us would beg for the release of death. But she works closely with the King of Flame to keep us alive because of her mission: to make them both the most powerful creatures in Ahland."
Silence fell over the room as even the gods seemed to hold their breath. Hakon's head swam with the information, his stomach turning at what had been going on under their noses foryears. For one fleeting moment, Hakon was glad that Eydis didnot have to face what was coming. Glad that her gentle soul did not have to hear of what her family had almost been victims of.
"Name her," Dahlia whispered, a quiet rage so unlike her bleeding into her demand. The sudden shift in her tone riled something in Hakon that slipped away from him before he could identify it.
It was not Astrid who spoke now, but Aeric. His voice was low and dangerous as he looked at each of them.
"Her name is Vilde Shadowheart. She comes from one of our oldest families; her lineage is powerful as the gods have blessed it with more than elementalgalder. Her other talent is… peculiar."
"Gods above," Maude muttered as she placed her elbows on the table and dropped her head into her hands. Bryn seemed to become more pale as the blood drained from her face, just like Gunnar and Dahlia. Liv had brought out her blade at some point and was expelling nervous energy by flipping the dagger in her hand faster than Hakon could keep up with his mortal eyes.
His brother only watched Aeric, his face betraying only that he was calculating their next steps.
"Clearly, this Vilde Shadowheart is a dangerous opponent to have," Herrick said to the Shadow King, his tone slipping into the voice of the General of Rivers. "That does not mean she cannot be killed."
Liv was the one who spoke now. "The Elven have a custom of bestowing names on those with great power. Fire-Eater, Born-in-Shadows, Lighter-of-Pathways, Child-of-Starlight. These names are earned when their skills proceed the norm or when they achieve something the gods would celebrate. When someone earns this name, their surname is shed as they become somethingotherthan their family's product."
Hakon tipped more wine into his throat, the burn numbing any feeling he might have had left during this topic.
Liv listed off the various warrior names that could be earned in their culture, which drew Hakon's focus away from the horrible topic at hand. His thoughts turned inward as the alcohol entered his bloodstream. He had not done anythingworthy of the god's favor; he had no skill that would outshine others. The only accomplishment Hakon had under his belt was being born a Kolbeck.
He should be named Hakon Waste-of-Breath.
"She earned the name Shadowheart when it was discovered that she could pull her heart from her chest and remain alive, separated from it. She keeps her heart stored somewhere hidden, and unless they are reunited, she cannot be killed."
Words had started to sound fuzzy the more Hakon drank, dimming the world around him until he knew he would not feel the hollowness in his chest that plagued him. Hakon continued to spiral inward as the others kept the important conversation going, their plans unfurling around him. He did not speak or offer any ideas. They didn't need him.
So, Hakon Waste-of-Breath continued to drown himself in wine.
"She earned the name Shadowheart when it was discovered that she could pull her heart from her chest and remain alive, separated from it. She keeps her heart stored somewhere hidden, and unless they are reunited, she cannot be killed," the King of Shadow said.
Herrick tried to understand why the gods were testing them like this. He had always trusted his fate and tried to live by the word of the gods. But now, it seemed as though the gods had abandoned them all to the whims of greedy men and black-hearted villains. He clenched his jaw as his mind swirled with plan after plan, each path more dangerous than the last.
"What has she been doing to the prisoners?" Herrick asked gently as he looked at Astrid.
He tried to show on his face that she did not have to tell them if she did not want to, but rather than respond to him, she looked at Liv and gave her a shaky nod. He turned his attention to the warrior next to him, her pointed ears still strange and foreign to Herrick. When Liv spoke, though, he could still hear hisfriend, with whom he had fought side by side for years. The reminder comforted him; she was still Liv, even if she had been hiding many truths from them.
"She has been experimenting on thevitkiwho are captured and brought to the palace," Liv seethed. She paused for a moment, letting the horrific words sink in before continuing.
Across from Herrick, Maude remained as still as death. Her muscles were rigid, her head still in her hands. He could see that her fingers were weaving into the deep red strands of her hair, her nails digging into her scalp. Bryn didn't seem better off— her skin had become pale as her eyes stared at the table in front of her. The previous Lieutenant General clenched her hands until the skin over her knuckles thinned.
"She has been trying— unsuccessfully—to pull thegalderfrom our blood in order to take it for herself," Astrid said hollowly.
Before anyone could ask any more questions, Astrid drew back the long, flowing sleeves of her gown and showed the neat rows of deep cuts that ascended her arms. Toward the bottom of her arm, closest to her wrist, the healed scars were older— the skin color was similar in pigment to the skin around the slice. Toward the inside of her elbow, the center of each line of hatred that was carved into her flesh was a deeper purple—newer scars.
Herrick had no healing experience, but he knew where to land a blow that would cause a warrior to bleed out. The cuts on Astrid, and he suspected the other prisoners as well, all lay on major arteries.
"You have cuts just like those," Maude said, her voice so low that Herrick wasn't sure anyone else heard. At some point, she had lifted her gaze to rest on Astrid's scars. "Shebledyou so she could be more powerful. I'm going to fuckingobliterateher."
Maude stood up so abruptly that her chair slammed backward onto the floor. Flames sparked at her fingertips, and shadows flew in from the dark corners of the rooms to swirl around her as she charged for the door. Thegalderin her blood that called to her home kingdom seemed to be overwhelming her the longer she stayed in Nida, Herrick noticed as he rushed to stop Maude from running all the way back to Logi, her temper taking the best of her yet again.
Herrick reached her in time to wrap his arms around her waist, pulling her close to his body. Her eyes had filled with the shadows in her blood, blacking out the moss green of her irises. Unlike the last time her eyes had gone black, the rage that shone here was all Maude's. He'd seen her lost in this heat before and could think of only one way to bring her back to sanity.
"Minn eldr," Herrick whispered as he ran his nose up Maude's neck from behind until his tongue could trace the shell of her ear. "Don't go looking for trouble right now unless it ends with us sweat-slicked and you on your back writhing beneath me."
Their friends and— to Herrick's slight horror— Maude's birth father all watched as he brought her out of her rage by distracting her the only way he knew how. She shivered as he spoke to her, her flames receding and her shadows retreating into the corners of the room again. Though her breathing was still rapid and her muscles were still tensed, Maude managed to come back down from her fury and regain control of her temper.
"I'm fine. Let me go," Maude huffed as she gently pulled herself from his grip.
