Crystal Crowned [ARC]

  Casting aside her hesitations and fears, Vhalla pushed open the door, only to have it pulled the rest of the way.

  Her father stood on the other side. Of average height and muscled even in age, the rich tone of his skin betrayed every hour he spent in the field. Hair that matched hers in color and tone spilled down in a mess to the bottom of his ears.

  “Vhalla?” He blinked, as though she was about to disappear.

  “Papa!” The child within her was unleashed, that little girl who desperately wanted her father to hold her and say everything was all right. The girl who had been thrust into the world fearful and unknown. That girl finally won for the first time in months, and tears spilled onto Vhalla’s cheeks. “Papa, Papa, Papa. . .”

  Her knees lost all their strength, they were suddenly world weary and exhausted. Her father gripped her upper arms, following her to the ground. They stared at each other in awe, the rest of the world utterly forgotten.

  “You’re okay.”

  “I should say that to you, little bird.” He pulled her in for a tight embrace.

  “I’m sorry. I should have come home sooner. I should’ve been here. I became a lady. I sent coin. Did you get it?” It all spilled out, uncontrollable. “I wanted to come home, Father, but I did so many things. I didn’t even know who I was. I didn’t know what I wanted. But I know now, I know.”

  “Hush.” Her father held her cheeks and smoothed away her tears. “You’re working yourself into a frenzy for no reason.”

  Vhalla swallowed and nodded, the last of her tears escaping on a laugh. “I’m so happy to see you.” Worry had given birth to grief, which shattered in the face of joy.

  “I am happy to see you.” He pulled her in for another tight hug. “Are you all right?”

  “I am.”

  “I heard so many stories, tall tales all focused on my little bird. I was worried, but I was proud.”

  Vhalla sat back on her heels, rubbing her face. She felt foolish for crying so much when nothing was wrong. But, if anything, she cried because it was right and perfect and everything she hadn’t dared let herself hope for.

  “Now.” Her father stood. “I am sure you have much to tell me, but let’s start with your companions.”

  “Right.” Vhalla stood as well, having completely lost herself in her father being alive and well. “Well . . .” Her eyes scanned their rag-tag lot. It was actually a humorous sight. The disgraced lord, the Southern Sorcerer, the Western noble, and the Emperor.

  “Fritz is my dear friend; we met in the Tower of Sorcerers.” Vhalla introduced her friends to her father in the order they dismounted. “He’s helped me countless times and is a really gifted Waterrunner.”

  “Elecia is also my dear friend.” The woman in question looked startled that Vhalla would call her such. “She doesn’t let me get away with anything, Papa. She’s really gifted and strong, also.”

  “Jax is—”

  “Her personal guard,” the Western man finished.

  Vhalla squinted at him, about to correct him that he, too, was a precious person to her.

  But her father interjected, “Thank you for protecting my girl.”

  “She’s pretty good at protecting herself.” Jax placed his hands on his hips, assessing her thoughtfully. “Just as good as she is at getting into trouble.”

  “I can hear you, you know,” Vhalla remarked dryly.

  “Oh, I know.” Jax grinned madly.

  “You have certainly found interesting company to keep.” Her father chuckled and turned to the last remaining man in question. “And you are?”

  Her chest tightened. Her Emperor? Her lord? Her prince? Her friend? Her lover? Her betrothed? Any of those titles could’ve fallen from Aldrik’s lips.

  “My name is Aldrik,” he said simply.

  Vhalla stilled, even Elecia looked surprised at Aldrik’s casual introduction.

  “M-my lord.” Her father dropped to a knee in surprise.

  Aldrik stared down at him for a long moment, before kneeling as well, so he could speak at eye-level. “Just Aldrik is fine.”

  “No-no, I couldn’t,” her father protested. He had served in the military for years. Vhalla knew how engrained respect for nobility was in his mind. How he knew his place before his leaders and sovereigns. He knew it so well that he had been the one to teach it to her.

  “I’m asking, please, simply Aldrik.” He spoke in a casual cadence and actually smiled.

  “Papa, it’s okay.” Vhalla tugged on her father’s arm, urging him to stand. Her father looked greatly uncertain still. “Aldrik is, well, I’m going to marry him.”

  Her father looked between Vhalla and Aldrik, clearly struggling to process this.

  Even Aldrik looked at her in surprise, but he collected himself quickly. “That is, sir, if you have no objections.”

  The Emperor looked even more surprised when the Eastern man before him burst out laughing. “It’s Vhalla’s choice, not mine. I’m not the one you’re asking to wed. If she is happy, then I am happy.” He held out a hand to Aldrik. “Rex Yarl.”

  “A pleasure to finally meet you, Rex.” Aldrik clasped hands with her father, and Vhalla had to remind herself that she wasn’t in some dream land. The Emperor was really shaking hands with her father.

  “Where should we tie up the horses?” Jax asked.

  “Oh, right. There should be enough space in and around the barn.” Vhalla looked up at the sky. “Doesn’t look like rain, so they should be fine on an outdoor tie.”

  Elecia, Jax, and Fritz took the horses to tie, tactfully giving Vhalla, Aldrik, and her father some time alone.

  She slipped her hand in the Emperor’s, his fingers folding against hers. “Let me show you my home.”

  Her father still seemed nervous by Aldrik’s presence. He walked calmly enough at her left side, but he kept making occasional glances at Aldrik. Vhalla tried to gauge his expression from the corners of her eyes, which proved difficult. Just because she knew what she wanted and didn’t need her father’s approval, well, that didn’t mean she didn’t want it.

  “These are the strawberry bushes Mama and I planted when I was little.” It was almost spring, and they already had tiny fruits nestled between their leaves.

  “One spring, Vhalla ate them all in one afternoon,” her father spoke to Aldrik, looking at the plants fondly.

  “I had such a stomach ache!” Vhalla laughed, remembering exactly the time her father spoke of.

  Rex smiled at his daughter. “Your mother had no sympathy for you either.”

  “She was so cross.”

  “As was I. I wanted one of her berry tarts.” There was still a note of sorrow when he spoke of his deceased wife.

  “She did make the best tarts,” Vhalla sighed wistfully.

  Vhalla picked three of the fruits for each of them to try. They were tiny and somewhat bitter from not having ripened enough. But, for Vhalla, they tasted of springs long past, seasoned sweetly by reminiscing.

  Walking around the flagstone, they came across a tree that Vhalla had planted from an off-shoot of the old oak. She remembered it as nothing more than a tiny sapling, but it was now almost taller than she was.

  There was the outdoor soaking barrel, where she and her mother had spent many an afternoon bathing. It wasn’t far from the outhouse. But they passed all these and headed for a low rectangular stone with a dish-like dip in the center of the top. Vhalla looked at the empty bowl thoughtfully.

  “Mama.” Vhalla dusted the dirt around the edges, careful not to touch the inside of the dip. “You’re dirty; tell the Mother to send a good rain.”

  “The plants could use it, too.” Her father slung an arm around Vhalla’s shoulder.

  “Do you still miss her?” Vhalla asked one of their ritual questions.

  “Of course, little bird. Every single day.” His longing was as palpable as his heavy sigh.

  For the first time, Vhalla realized
that she understood her father’s pain. She’d always thought she knew before, but she never had until now. Losing her mother was an exceptionally great pain, but of a different sort than losing the person who held the other part of her soul. Vhalla looked up at Aldrik.

  “What was her name?” Aldrik asked.

  “Dia,” Rex answered.

  “Dia. That is a lovely name.” Aldrik turned back to the marker. “Dia, I realize you are aware, but your daughter has grown into one astounding woman, and I would be lost without her.”

  “I’m sure she knows.” Rex squeezed Vhalla lovingly. “Just as I do.”

  “We should get dinner started,” Vhalla tried to keep her words light, not wanting to betray the sudden ache of her heart. She remembered how she had sat for the first few hours following her mother’s Rite of Sunset, watching the wind slowly blow away the ashes from the shallow basin at the top of the marker. This was the font of her mother’s winds, so said Eastern lore.

  Shortly after, Vhalla found herself side by side with Fritz preparing dinner. Jax and Elecia squabbled around the tall table by the countertop, and Aldrik and her father chatted quietly by the hearth. She kept glancing over her shoulder, trying to pick up what they were saying, but even in the tiny, one-room house, she could only make out every couple words.

  “You all right, Vhal?” Fritz asked. He was busy cutting some smoked and salted pork.

  “Actually, I couldn’t be better.” She smiled, giving up trying to figure out what her father and Aldrik were whispering about. “Have I cut these right?”

  “Yes, yes. Put them in the pot,” Fritz instructed. “I would’ve thought you were a better cook.”

  “My mother only taught me the basics,” Vhalla confessed.

  “Oh, right, sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” Vhalla eased her friend’s mind. “I really do like thinking of her; I remember all the things she taught me. Cooking just wasn’t one of them.”

  “Who knows, Vhalla Yarl,” Elecia joined their conversation. “Perhaps you do have a trace of nobility in you yet, for being more accustomed to others preparing food for you.”

  Vhalla rolled her eyes. “Well, Lady Ci’Dan, I, at least, am willing to dirty my hands enough to prepare the food that I am to eat,” Vhalla jabbed lightly.

  Getting the rise out of Elecia that she sought, soon the other woman was cutting root vegetables at Fritz’s instruction and giving Vhalla free hands to start on the bread.

  “Would you look at that.” Jax leaned against the table. “Elecia Ci’Dan, on a dirt floor, cutting vegetables.”

  “Enjoy it while you can.” Elecia didn’t even turn around.

  “You know I will.” Jax’s eyes moved up and down Elecia’s form a few times.

  “You letch.” Vhalla nudged him.

  “Can you blame me?”

  “Jax.” Elecia paused, flipping the knife in her palm deftly. “Is now really when you want to try to get cheeky with me.”

  “Knife throwing only excites me more.”

  Fritz and Vhalla roared with laughter.

  “It’s good to have the house so lively again,” Rex said as he and Aldrik rejoined the conversation. “Your presence has been missed.”

  “Speaking of missing, Mother’s spices are also gone.” Vhalla pointed to the empty windowsill.

  “There was a bad drought a year ago. I couldn’t spare water for even them.”

  “She’d be cross with you.” Vhalla began kneading the dough she’d been working on before setting it in a bowl to rest, a cloth draped over top. “How’s the well now? The creeks?”

  “It has been a more arid year than normal, but they are fine enough for planting,” he responded. “Don’t worry on that.”

  “I do worry.” She sighed. “The fields need ploughing—”

  “It’s not time just yet.”

  “—the barn door is broken—”

  “As it has been for years.”

  “You’re not taking care of things,” Vhalla finished pointedly.

  “I am.” Rex Yarl laughed. “The farm’s fine; I’m fine. I don’t have some herbs. I always enjoyed bland foods.”

  “You do not.” Vhalla crossed her arms on her chest stubbornly. “You loved mama’s cooking, and she used them every day.”

  “I did because your mother could’ve made anything and I would’ve loved it.”

  Dinner passed quietly and peacefully. Fritz’s soup was ready before Vhalla’s bread, but there weren’t enough bowls to go around. So they waited and talked until the small loaves had time to bake.

  She’d forgotten where the sweet spot in their oven was and some of the loaves were a little too brown. Thankfully, Jax diligently adjusted the fire as she’d demanded, as best he could after the hearth had heated, so they were all edible.

  Vhalla thought herself clever for gouging out the top of the bread and filling it with soup, even though she’d burned her fingers for handling them too quickly after cooking. They’d not eaten a real, hot meal since Fritz’s home, and it was better than just about anything Vhalla could’ve imagined. Perhaps some of it was the semi-starvation they had been enduring, but everyone had seconds gladly, eating until their bellies were rounded.

  It wasn’t long after that they all collapsed on the floor. Fritz and Elecia were asleep in moments, Jax not long after. Their cloaks served as blankets; Rex’s clothing was rolled to create makeshift pillows. After spending so many nights in the open, having two nights in a row under a roof was pure bliss.

  Rex insisted that Aldrik take his small rope bed, but Aldrik refused, opting for the small palette that would’ve been Vhalla’s. When he realized they couldn’t both fit, he offered it to her, but it was Vhalla’s turn to refuse. Her Emperor had a hard enough time sleeping, and if the thin layer of straw helped, she wasn’t about to take it from him.

  Everyone fell asleep quickly. Everyone but Vhalla. She was exhausted, but sleep wouldn’t come.

  She watched the red glow of the hearth fade into the darkness. The moon played hide and seek with the clouds, which she viewed through the window by their table. She listened to Fritz’s soft snoring, the shifts as Elecia rolled around, Jax’s boot scrape against the ground as he twitched in his sleep.

  Vhalla pulled herself to her feet, glancing to her father’s bed. He was curled in the opposite direction, the rise and fall of his chest slow and even. Like a child, she crept out the door.

  The ladder was where it had always been, propped near the chimney. It was worn and old but could bear her weight without trouble. She situated herself near the stones and used the radiant heat they still held from the baking earlier to fend off the night’s chill.

  All her worries and assessments were correct. The roof needed to be re-built. But for now, the beams below the thatching were protected enough that they hadn’t rotted and gone soft. Vhalla reclined back on the slope of the roof, looking up at the endless sky.

  The ladder creaked and shifted, and then her father’s head popped over the roof.

  “I thought I’d find you up here,” he said softly, climbing up the rest of the way. Vhalla shifted closer to the warmth of the hearth and pulled her knees to her chest to make room for him to sit. “You’re still seeking places like this to roost?”

  “I suppose so.” Vhalla thought back to her window seat in the library, how it offered her a view of the entire capital. She thought of her Tower room and the small balcony she so loved. She thought to her fearlessness the night Aldrik had brought her to the top of a spire. She’d never connected her love of high vantages before. “You knew what I was, didn’t you?”

  “What you were?”

  She finally had her father all to herself. She had the opportunity to ask the questions that had been burning for weeks. And now Vhalla was terrified of the answers.

  “You and Mama, you knew I was a Windwalker,” Vhalla asked in spite of her fear.

  Her father was silent for a long
moment, speaking volumes. “We had suspicions.”

  “And you never told me?” Vhalla twisted in shock. “You hid it from me?”

  “Little bird, what were we to say? That we thought you may wield magic? Neither of us possessed such powers, and we barely knew what they meant. All we knew was what your grandmother had taught your mother.”

  Even her father’s pet name for her suddenly had new meaning, even as he revealed new facets to her past. “What grandmother taught?” Vhalla knew her grandparents had worked in the post office of Hastan, but she’d always been told they had fallen out with their daughter when she’d married Vhalla’s father.

  “She also possessed the gift of winds.” Her father sighed heavily, visibly pained by Vhalla’s hurt. “When your mother expressed concerns, you were just a toddler. Your grandmother demanded we send you to her so she could teach you how to live hidden.

  “But your mother wouldn’t give you up. She read and heard as many tales from old Cyven as she could, learning what she could about the Windwalkers. She loved you, Vhalla, and she wanted to raise you.”

  Vhalla rested her chin on her knees. She debated internally if it would’ve been better to have been sent off. To know what she was. If she had been, if she had never been removed from the East, perhaps none of the current events would’ve happened.

  But Vhalla didn’t know what it felt like to have a child and be faced with the choice of giving up that child. She tightened her arms around her knees. She never would. Because if and when she did give birth to her first child, he or she would be taken to the North—it was already decided. There would be no opportunity for conflict.

  “Don’t harbor any anger toward your mother,” her father sighed.

  “I don’t,” Vhalla replied back before he could misinterpret her contemplations. “I just, wish I’d known sooner. I wish someone had told me.” So she wouldn’t have had to be pushed off a roof.

  “If I’d known what would’ve happened, I would’ve done things differently,” he confessed.

  “What’s done is done.” Vhalla shrugged it away. “I know why you and Mama tried to hide me. I know what the East teaches about Windwalkers and magic.” Vhalla considered it for a long moment. “But in the end, while I wish I had done a few things differently . . . I wouldn’t change all of it.”