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"Whoever did this will pay," he vowed, his voice a low growl. "Váli, gather the soldiers! We need a count of everyone in the castle – nobles, servants, everyone. Question them all, and if anyone seems suspicious, make them talk."
"Keep the twins' kidnapping a secret," Thorsten ordered. I felt frustration at his words, wanting everyone to be aware and on the lookout for our children. But Thorsten explained that revealing what happened could endanger us and the rest of the royal family. He knew it was a difficult decision, but insisted it was for the best.
Days passed, and despair consumed me. The Ravens found no new leads, and I couldn't shake the gnawing feeling in my chest. I wanted to confront Liv, but after remembering past mistakes when I'd accused someone innocent and got them killed, I hesitated. And she wasn't just some servant – she was the former King's wife and family. It infuriated me that I had to consider these stupid political implications while my sons were missing.
"Son," my dad said softly as he sat beside me, having left the infirmary to comfort me. "We'll find them. I promise."
I studied his face, wishing I could believe his words as much as he did.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THORSTEN
I could feel the tension rising within the royal court as rumors spread like wildfire about the twins' kidnapping. Accusations flew, and the weight of responsibility bore down on my shoulders. I couldn't help but think of Kal, locked away in his chambers, conversing with what appeared to be Odin's ravens -- Huginn and Muninn. I wasn't sure if they were truly the Allfather's birds; I was never well-versed in the old legends. That had always been Skadi's expertise.
She once spoke of how time stood still in Innangard, she believed it was our key to our people's immortality over just a lengthy life span. Every titan who had ever traveled there unableto awaken were still very much alive, even after thousands of years. So perhaps it was possible for his creatures to have survived in Innangard for as long as they have. I had no choice but to take her word for it. She had traveled to Innangard many times and was considered an arch sage, though her wild, carefree, barbarian spirit often concealed her wisdom.
What would she think of me now? Her motto was always against making vows you can't keep, and I had sworn a vow to my beloved that was broken within the blink of an eye. I had failed to protect my family, and because of that, my children were gone or worse.
I sat in my office within the bowels of these halls, contemplating my next move. The chamber was large and dimly lit, its walls adorned with ancient tapestries and battle-worn weaponry. A massive wooden desk, engraved with intricate symbols and runes, dominated the room. The air was heavy with a mix of incense and the musty scent of old parchment. High above, the teal and gold banners emblazoned with the Yggdrasil insignia fluttered gently, reminding me of my duty. This was a job I didn't want, but I will be damned if I go down in history as the King who lost his empire within a month of his coronation. I will not be the precursor of my family's downfall!
Váli entered the room, urgency painted across his face. "Your Majesty, King Falka has sent a messenger to see you," he said, his voice low and cautious. "This could be concerning your children." I knew what he was thinking, he wanted to make sure I would remain the calm King when I saw this messenger.
"Thank you, Váli," I replied, my tone dry. "I don't need to be coached. I know to keep my cool." My heart ached at the thoughtof my sons being lost to me forever. "It's breaking that news to Kal that worries me the most."
"Understood, Your Majesty," Váli nodded, bowing his head. "I will inform the messenger that you will meet with him shortly."
As he left, I clenched my fists, gods he was getting on my nerves, is this what my father had to deal with from his?
Váli and I strode down the hallway leading to the throne room. My muscles tensed involuntarily, preparing for the confrontation ahead. As we entered the throne room, my eyes locked onto King Falka's messenger. He was a tall, bald-headed man with a sneer that sent shivers down my spine. He wore Undvik's colors of royal blue and red, emblazoned with the war hammer insignia that signified allegiance to that treacherous king. It took every ounce of my willpower not to end his miserable life right there and then.
"King Thorsten," the messenger greeted me with an oily smile as I ascended the steps to my throne. I sat down, my face an unreadable mask as I stared down at him.
"Speak," I commanded, my voice cold and harsh. "What does Falka want?"
"King Falka demands you abdicate your claim to the Esmian throne if you wish to see your sons alive again," he said, his smirk growing wider. My chest felt like it was being crushed in a vice, but I remained outwardly calm. The messenger continued,attempting to goad me further. "They are such lovely boys, so full of life and vigor. It would be a shame if anything were to happen to them."
"Enough," I snapped, my patience wearing thin.
"Very well," the messenger replied, unfazed. "Falka has always admired your intellect, Thorsten. Your research into the Traveler's Runes could usher our kind into a new era. He would prefer not to lose such a brilliant mind - which means returning your children to you safely. If you give up the Esmian throne, you can continue your work on the portals."
I couldn't help but laugh, contempt dripping from every syllable. "You expect me to believe that Falka gives a damn about the portals? He's just an overgrown child throwing a tantrum because he feels slighted."
"King Falka does care," the messenger insisted. "He spared your assistant Svein for this very reason. Your research could rebind the planes as they were before Ragnarok. And with it, Undvik could rise again."
My laughter turned mocking at his words.
"Ah, so Falka wants to raid other planes and uplift his pathetic islands?" I sneered. "He started a war because King Bergelmir, my father, allegedly failed on his promise to help Undvik. And now, Falka has ensured that such aid will never come."
"Those are tough words," the messenger said, unfazed. "But as it stands, Undvik holds the upper hand. If you relinquish thethrone, it would be the most favorable outcome for you. King Falka knows that being king is not what you desire."
"Paint me a picture," I said, bile rising in my throat. "Tell me what I stand to lose if I choose not to abdicate." I leaned forward on my throne, my silver eyes boring into the messenger, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "What exactly will I lose when I lose two Demititan children born to a dwarven concubine? Tell King Falka he will have to do better than kidnapping two children to make me submit. I'm still young, and there are many Titan nobles who desire me. I have the means to make more heirs, and I will make sure I create an army of heirs who would love nothing more than to find Falka and rip out his patronizing tongue!"
The messenger's smirk never wavered. "King Falka was prepared for such resistance. He asks if this is your final word."
I could feel my grip tightening on the armrests of my throne, my knuckles turning white. "No, it isn't," I spat, trying to keep my composure. "This is something I will have to think about. But in the meantime, I would appreciate it if my youngest son's rash was tended to. He tends to have these horrible breakouts, and he was in the midst of one when he was taken. Born to a concubine or not, royal blood still flows through his veins, and I will not suffer his mistreatment regardless of the outcome of his life."
"Of course," the messenger replied, his voice infuriatingly calm. "We have been doing everything to care for the young masters. They've been applying oil to his rashes, and the doctors are caring for him."
