After collecting himself, sure that sleep would not be in his favor tonight, he got up and dressed in his uniform. If he wasn't going to sleep, he would continue his search for someone willing to speak to him about Helvig's family. He rinsed his mouth out with clean water and grabbed a few mint leaves from his windowsill to chew on so his breath didn't offend anyone. Before he exited, he caught his reflection in the dark window looking out over the training yard.
The man who looked back at him was thinner than ever before, his eyes hollow and gaunt. His remorse that had been eating him alive over these last few weeks was starting to show.
Shaking his head, he exited his office and headed toward the palace's servants corridors. Baldr had also spent most of his limited free time sleuthing around the palace for any information he could get about the Heir and the late Queen of Flame.It seemed that most of the staff who had been around during the time the Queen of Flame was alive either no longer worked her or had perished shortly after.
His last section of the palace that he hadn't checked out yet was where the laundresses worked. Due to the nature of the task, the washing happened at night so Baldr was able to finally speak with those who had become nocturnal creatures while in service of the palace.
As the long hours of the night dragged on, Baldr spoke with person after person in hopes that they would know anything. Just when he was about to give up, he found someone who knew of a woman who had been at the palace for decades and was willing to speak of the King's family. The young girl directed him toward an old laundress whose skin was starting to fold inward with time.
"Her mind has grown fuzzy over time, sir," the girl said, her slim face and thin body similar to most of the servants in Helvig's care. "Sometimes the things she speaks of make no sense."
Baldr nodded once, thanking the girl before she walked away and returned to her tasks.
It didn't take much convincing for the old laundress to agree to tell him about Helvig's family and all that had gone wrong. She mentioned she still had a portrait of the late Queen hidden behind a panel in her bedroom.
While Baldr followed her through the dark halls, he took in her appearance. Her hair was a soft gray, and the thin curls were slightly familiar. She was hunched over a wooden staff that clicked with each step she took, her pace brisk despite her age. He felt like he recognized her but could draw no conclusions as to who she might have been. Perhaps she was familiar to him in the way that most elderly tended to look similar after a few years of advanced age.
"It is just through here, General," the old woman said softly before leading him into a tiny living space at the end of a long hall.
"Please, call me Baldr," he said gently as he passed her to enter the room.
Frail hands grabbed his bicep, stopping him in his tracks not because of her strength but because of the urgency in her grasp. When he looked down at the old laundress, her milky blue eyes were bright as she stared at him.
"Baldr," she whispered once before she shook herself from her outburst and let go. She cleared her throat and spoke again. "My name is Anneli. Please sit while I fetch what you're looking for."
Baldr nodded once before sitting, keeping an eye on the small woman as she searched the narrow hole in the wall for the portrait she kept of Sylvi.
"Ah, there they are," Anneli said. "The last portrait of Sylvi Helvig, Queen of Flame."
Anneli handed a framed portrait to Baldr the size of a small side table, her arms shaking beneath its weight.
"His Majesty had a fit when she died and burned her belongings to ash, but not before I could save a few choice items," Anneli said in a hushed whisper. "She was quite a beauty, and so are her daughters."
Baldr nodded stiffly at Anneli's words. He was already staring at the portrait, the Queen of Flame's stunning face looking back at him with wide, green eyes that held a soft kindness in them. Around her shoulders, locks of wine-red hair hung in a curtain of bright color, thin braids scattered throughout the thick mane weaved through the delicate golden crown that rested upon her head. She had a heart-shaped face and a pointed chin that added a sharper edge to her beauty. Her fair skin had golden hues underneath; the smooth surface of the paint did not do the queen any justice to what she must have looked like when she was alive.
Before him was the red-haired shieldmaiden's mother, her likeness as uncanny as Vilde proclaimed. The two women looked identical besides the finer points of aging that Sylvi displayed and the fairer skin. Baldr's throat constricted as he looked at the Queen of Flame, but he did not understand why. Nor did he understand why his limbs felt weak and heavy the longer he looked at the portrait. At last, he found out who the shieldmaiden was.
Maude.
Her name settled into his soul, a sense of rightness quickly filling him.
Before Baldr could even begin to imagine why her identity was a key that unlocked a confusing amount of emotion, Anneli spoke again. She had retrieved another item from her cache: a small, leatherbound journal that had a round claspon the front made of a thin piece of metal. There is no keyhole and no clear way to open the journal.
"This was also Sylvi's," Anneli said quietly, her milky gaze on Baldr.
She held out the small journal for him to take. As he reached for it, she lurched forward faster than he thought possible. Baldr went to catch her when he felt a small pinch on his thumb. Anneli righted herself and hastily thrust the journal into his hands. When he grabbed it, a small drop of blood beaded on his thumb before it landed on the small metal clasp. Power surged through Baldr, the scent of warm sugar and cinnamon wrapping around him before the feeling subsided.
He had dropped the journal open in his surprise, the pages filled with neat cursive sentences. Anneli reached down to grab the journal at the same time as Baldr.
"My apologies," Anneli said quickly. "I did not realize the pages were bare. I haven't been able to open it, but I thought it might be interesting to you if you read it. It appears I was wrong."
Baldr started to say that the journal contained pages full of the late queen's writing, but that gut instinct warned him not to speak the words aloud.
"Thank you for your time, Anneli," Baldr said, his voice a little more stiff than before. He hoped she wouldn't notice. "I'll leave the portrait in your care, but I will take the journal if that is okay with you?"
"Of course," Anneli nodded with a small smile.
Baldr left the laundress' room hastily. He needed to read the journal in his hands to find out why only he could see the words on the pages written in the delicate hand of the former Queen of Flame. He needed to learn why the Heir had saved his life that day on the water. But mostly, he needed to understand why the late queen's death evoked an emotion in him that he had only felt for one person before.
