Page 83 of Kingdom of Embers and Ruin

“Because I don’t get to choose, not really. It’s killing me, brother,” Hakon said, deflated. “I spend every moment I can with Eydis because this is all the time I’ll have with her. I can’t step away from becoming King, I can’t step away from our kingdom, and I can’t step away from her. It would be as if I was ripping apart my soul.”

Herrick stood before his brother in stunned silence, listening to the words that so deeply echoed his feelings for Maude.

“Tonight, I have to be paraded around the eligible matches by our mother to choose a partner in the name of ruling under that gods awful treaty when my soul already belongs to Eydis.”

Hakon’s blue eyes shuttered. Herrick really looked at his brother and saw that he was paler than usual, his caramel-colored hair dull. This truly was killing him. Was this how Maude had felt?

Herrick reached out to his brother, placing one hand on Hakon’s shoulder and the other clasped behind his neck before placing his brow against Hakon’s.

“We will find a way out of this, brother. I will help you find a way,” Herrick promised.

Hakon nodded and held onto his brother for another moment before pushing away and walking into the washroom.

“You could’ve handled that better,” Gunnar offered, sipping from his glass.

“He burned off some of the anger that’s been riding him this week; now he can focus on getting through the night without picking a partner,” Herrick sighed as he walked back to his chair and downed his third glass of amber liquor.

Gunnar let out a small laugh, shaking his head.

“There are easier ways to rile him up than to pick on the sorest subject for him,” Gunnar said.

“Perhaps, but no other way would've worked as fast.”

The two friends sat in silence for a few moments before Herrick spoke again.

“We leave tomorrow for the Kingdom of Light. It’s time to find thedalkr Helaand use it on the King of Flame.”

“If we succeed, we are breaking the treaty,” Gunnar pointed out.

“It’s what is necessary to end his rule. Besides, even if we can’t get close enough, I believe Maude can. It would not be breaking the treaty if she kills him,” Herrick said, exhaustion starting to weigh in his every word.

“Don’t you want to break the treaty?” Gunnar asked carefully.

“Not at the cost of our kingdom being attacked. If anyone breaks it, it will have to be the Kingdom of Flame.”

Hakon walked out of the washroom, dressed in his formal wear for the night. His clothes were like Herrick's, only where Herrick had silver accents, Hakon had gold to match the crown he had to wear tonight. The fur lining Hakon was also different, the pure white stark against the darkness of his clothing.

“Let’s get this over with,” Hakon grumbled, reaching for the bottle of amber liquor on the table.

He took a long drink from it before he set it down again and walked out of the room without another word.

“Allfather, help us tonight,” Gunnar murmured.

Herrick couldn’t find it in him to disagree.

The Grand Ballroom to be used for this sham of a party was located at the back of the Palace of Ocean and Clay. The enormous room’s back wall was made up of two floor-to-ceiling glass panes that slid apart to open into the gardens behind the palace, the tall hedges creating a labyrinth in the night where many couples often found themselves getting blissfully lost.

Inside the ballroom, the walls were lined with generations of Kolbeck royalty, their golden eyes looking down on the partygoers throughout the night. Herrick entered the ballroom shortly after Hakon did, spying the dais opposite the doors that opened into the striking room.

The Queen had spared no effort in decorating Hakon’s Betrothal Ball; gold trimming lined the ceilings, while the center of the floor, where couples would gracefully twirl, had the Kolbeck crest and runes painted in metallic gold. With the glass doors open to the gardens, the dancers would spin out into the gardens and circle back into the ballroom, taking two atmospheres and blending them seamlessly into one.

In the corner, the musicians hired for the event would string out the melodies his mother found appropriate for the evening, the music floating out into the night air. His family stood on the dais, the Queen speaking in short, harsh tones to Hakon, who only looked past her in the gardens. Choosing to avoid that encounter, Herrick found a corner near the glass doors to the garden that seemed to be out of his mother’s field of vision. He had just leaned against the wall when the first ball patrons arrived.

For an hour, Herrick surveyed every person who walked through the doors. First, they would look around the room and coo about the elegance and riches involved in the decoration before sliding their mask of nobility into place. Then, they would greet the royals on the dais and introduce whichever daughter or son they had brought for Hakon. Hakon would attempt to be polite and interested in the introduction, but the facade would quickly fall away. After every guest, their mother would scold him silently for his rudeness, and Hakon would clench his jaw. This ritual repeated until Herrick thought his brother’s teeth might just crumble under the tension.

It was painful to watch him have to sit through every greeting. Hakon used to be proud of his role and wanted to be a good King for his people. While Herrick did not think that had changed, he now saw that Hakon began to struggle with the expectations placed on him. Herrick saw his brother having to choose his duty over his heart. He saw how it was hurting Hakon and making him resent his position in life. Unable to interfere directly, Herrick had chosen to hide instead, like a coward.

Just as he grabbed a flute of sparkling wine from a tray near him, he heard the light click of boots next to him. Herrick turned to find Liv making her way to stand with him. Her long black hair had been braided in neat rows that ran down the center of her head and had been coiled at the back of her neck, golden clips shining in the candlelight. She had exchanged her usualfighting leathers for more formal leathers that resembled Gunnar’s, her cloak missing the fur lining reserved for the royal family. The stark tattooed runes on her head almost glowed in the candlelight.

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