Page 177 of Kingdom of Embers and Ruin

“Speak, boy,” Helvig demanded, but still Herrick said nothing, only sat there and watched his enemy play with his new toy.

Helvig laughed, the sound dry and sinister.

“You’ll be singing soon enough, General,” he said, turning to leave. “Welcome to the Kingdom of Flame.”

Footsteps echoed until they disappeared altogether. Herrick deflated, his unbothered act taking whatever energy he might have had left. He didn’t care that he was thirsty, he didn’t care that he was Helvig’s prisoner, he didn’t even care that he smelled of rust and salt from all the soldiers he had slaughtered.

Herrick thought only of Maude: how her skin had felt against his, how her laugh had been like the answer to the question of his existence, how she argued with him over everything. The silky strands of her hair as they fell over her shoulders, her breaths that came fast and uneven when he was moving inside her.

Every memory, every touch, every word exchanged replayed in Herrick’s mind over and over. He lay down on his side, the weight of his loss overwhelming him, and let his grief crash around him, consuming him from the inside out.

Maude was dead, and the half of his soul that belonged to her was dead too. Oblivion descended on him, hard and fast. Herrick welcomed it with open arms and a broken soul.

38

For three days, they traveled north. Three days of constant movement, of watch shifts while the others slept on their horses. Three days of travel and Bryn could do nothing but think of those she had lost, alternating between finding Revna blood eagled in the palace gates and watching as Maude threw herself between her and their uncle.

Both memories plagued her as she traveled amongst strangers.

Hakon, she had learned, was Herrick’s brother. She had guessed as much after discovering who Herrick was, but she couldn’t be sure. Bryn knew his name from when he was announced to the public as the Heir of Rivers but had never heard a physical description.

Liv, the dark-skinned warrior who had kept them moving all these days, was focused on reaching the Icewall Mountains by the end of that fourth day. Gunnar, the man poisoned from Belladonna, was being pulled in a makeshift sleigh through the snow that had settled heavy on the ground despite the late spring season.

After the first day, they bartered for some horses in a small, nameless town north of Logi, but Gunnar was too weak to ride, so Hakon constructed a wooden sleigh for him to ride behind his horse. Bryn had forced the wind to be at their backs, speeding up their travels in their hasty escape from Logi.

They had waited for hours, hoping Herrick would appear over the wall, but Liv had made them leave when it became clear that Herrick was either dead or, most likely, captured. Bryn assured them that her father would not kill the General of Rivers— he would find some use for him.

Bryn could see on their faces that they were not sure if that fact was all that comforting, but she did not speak pretty lies in the name of comfort. The truth chaffed.

Instead, Bryn tried to take in her surroundings, tried to keep a keen eye on the environment they traveled through. All she saw was ice and snow for leagues around them. They had picked up new clothes in the nomad town, Finniskali, that were more appropriate for the frigid temperatures of the frozen tundra that was northern Ahland, but the chill still cut her to the bone. The silver furs they had purchased helped them blend in with the landscape, and the leather pants that were lined with fur also worked to retain body heat.

Bryn’s fire could not keep her warm now as her sorrow banked any flames that might have surfaced.

As they rode, Hakon and Liv discussed potential plans to free Herrick, but none of them would work unless they had more people to round out their missing friends. Liv tried to include Bryn in the conversation, but she could see the suspicion heavy in Hakon’s gaze. No amount of truthful words and promises on her part would make Hakon trust her.

She was the daughter of his enemy— Bryn wouldn’t have trusted her either.

Mostly, Hakon just ignored her presence. He also avoided speaking about Maude directly, but Bryn could not understand why. It seemed like they had all been friends. The thought that he did not mourn her sister the way Liv and Gunnar seemed to bring on a deadly rage that Bryn could not afford to indulge in just yet.

She would have words with Hakon once they were hidden from her father.

Bryn’s throat closed at the thought of her sister, but she pushed the feelings away. She couldn’t break down now, not when they were not safe from her father’s grasp yet.

That fourth day dragged on until the sun was almost behind the horizon. Bryn was convinced they would never make it to the Icewall Mountains and that future travelers would find her frozen body.

Scanning the gray horizon for any sign of a mountain range, Bryn saw Liv stop her horse in its tracks. Bryn and Hakon followed suit, pausing behind Liv to see what had caught her attention.

“What is it?” Hakon asked, his deep voice bitter.

“Do you hear that?” Liv asked.

They all strained their ears in the silence that surrounded them. Just when Bryn thought Liv was making it up, she heard the distant sound of rolling thunder and crashing water.

“I hear it,” Bryn said quietly, the heat from her breath clouding in front of her as it hit the frigid air.

“We’re almost there, hurry,” Liv said, kicking her heels into the horse's side to get it moving again.

An hour went past before Bryn could see what Liv had been looking for. The rolling thunder turned out to be a waterfall that came out of a break in the mountain it was housed in. The water crashed into a large lake that was semi-frozen over in the freezing temperature.

---