Crystal Crowned

  “My ankle still pains me,” her father refused gently. “Plus, I have had a few days to explore. You enjoy it now.”

  “Take dinner with me later.” Vhalla knelt to kiss both her father’s cheeks. “I want to catch up with you.”

  “I won’t refuse that, little bird.”

  “Good, I didn’t want to have to beg you,” she teased lightly.

  “Enjoy the home of my forefathers.” Aldrik caught her hand, holding it for a long moment before relinquishing her once more. His eyes shifted to his eldest aunt. “Do not show her the library.”

  “There’s a library?” Vhalla gasped.

  “Call me selfish.” His mouth curled into an irresistible and utterly unapologetic smirk. “Take care of her, Aunt Tina.”

  “Yes, my Emperor.” Tina revealed the most expression Vhalla had seen from her when the woman referred to Aldrik as such.

  Vhalla was led out of the room, with Elecia and her mother following. She barely contained a belated eye roll at the thought of Tina’s previous suggestion. Perhaps outlawing the notion of “words amongst men” would be her first decree as Empress. As far as Vhalla had ever experienced, men and women spoke the same words and there was no reason why men couldn’t say certain things in her presence.

  Her ire quickly faded to awe as she marveled at every wonder the castle held. In the richness of its history, the home of Mhashan’s ruling family rivaled the palace in the Southern capital. In architecture and art, they could not be more different. There were countless rooms to sit and lounge within. Steel rang out on steel from well-fitted training grounds. Hundreds of years of history were packed into every hall.

  “How did you and Aldrik meet?” Tina asked as they strolled through a large room of statues and paintings.

  “Through notes in a book,” Vhalla answered vaguely. She tried to make a show of studying the sculpture before her to avoid further questioning. It didn’t work.

  The woman arched a dark eyebrow. “Notes in a book?”

  Vhalla briefly wondered if the ability to do so was passed down in the family or if they were tutored in it. She’d seen Aldrik give her the same inquisitive look countless times. Her palm rested on her lower stomach without thought. Would their children make such a look?

  “They were notes that were ultimately of help to him.” Vhalla didn’t want to give up much more than that, as the thought of their lost Bond hurt. “He reached out to me after that.”

  “That was forward and most unlike our nephew.” Tina may as well have screamed that she suspected there was more to Vhalla’s story than she was being told.

  “Well, I didn’t know it was him for the longest time.” Vhalla smiled faintly at the memory of their first notes exchanged. “I called him a phantom then.”

  “He did have a liking for all things dark,” Lilo agreed. “Though he seems to have finally taken to the color of his station.”

  “The color doesn’t matter.” Vhalla strolled onward as she mused. “Underneath it all, he will always be Aldrik, the man who was born to lead us.”

  “And . . .” Tina stepped into Vhalla’s personal space. Her voice dropped to a hush, glancing pointedly at the guards positioned at the far ends of the room. “Do you know clearly what that is? What lies underneath the clothes he wears?”

  “What?” Vhalla spun, frowning up at the much taller woman. Elecia sniggered, and Vhalla felt a flush on her cheeks. All hope of denial was gone, and Vhalla shot her friend a frustrated glare.

  “My dear.” Tina wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pushing Vhalla along to the next painting. “Do not be shy. We have our suspicions already. Your secrets are safe with us.”

  “We would never hurt our little Aldrik.” Lilo linked her arm with Vhalla’s open one, effectively pinning her between the two sisters. “Remember, he’s all we have left of our sister.”

  They stopped at a large portrait, and Vhalla’s breath caught in her throat. The woman sat, swathed in an Imperial white robe with a golden trim. A crimson shawl about her shoulders pooled on the floor. One hand held a mote of flame, the other a golden scepter with a sun at the top. The fire that lived in her eyes existed beyond death and time. It was complemented by a familiar curl at the corners of her mouth, betraying an air of confidence that could easily border on arrogance. Angular eyes and high cheekbones were framed by long black hair that fell under her shoulders unbound.

  The woman looked like authority incarnate. She looked as though she could kill the person who stood before her—or save them for a heaven that man had never known. She was everything Vhalla would have expected Aldrik’s mother to be, and more.

  “Would she have liked me?” Vhalla murmured, the thought escaping her mind as a quiet musing.

  “For what you have done for her son, she would have loved you,” Lilo answered before Tina could.

  “She looks just like him.” Vhalla realized that Aldrik was already older than the woman in the painting. That idea carried a new weight to his mother’s death. Vhalla was nearly the age at which his mother had died.

  “The Ci’Dan blood is strong,” Tina said proudly. “I am sure your children will look much like him also.”

  Vhalla couldn’t speak. She grabbed her shirt above her stomach where a phantom pain rippled through her at the thought. Elecia looked on with silent concern as Vhalla struggled to find the right words. She’d already failed once; she had traded the future where an heir was assured. Now she carved her own path, and no one knew what that may hold.

  “Do not be nervous, dear!” Lilo sensed the right emotion but for the wrong reasons.

  “Listen to my sister,” Tina agreed. “After all, your greatest duty will be producing an heir.”

  “What?” Vhalla freed herself of the women’s grips so she could read their facial expressions. She’d always known such to be a fact of their union. But, her greatest duty?

  “Surely, Aldrik has spoken on it . . . As soon as you are wed, you will need to bear him an heir.”

  “After the war,” Vhalla whispered.

  “That won’t do.” Tina shook her head and spoke as though she was leading a child into the world for the first time. “We live in uncertain times. You will need to leave the fighting in the South to him and the armies.”

  “But—” Vhalla wasn’t even allowed protest.

  “If he dies, the Solaris name will then live on. You can rule in his stead until the heir is of age,” Tina continued. No matter how much love she spoke of her nephew, the words rang heartless. “This will ensure the future stability of the Empire. We can keep you safe here as you bring the child to term.”

  “No.” Vhalla repeated herself before the softness in her objection could be mistaken for weakness, “No.”

  “Vhalla, this is—”

  “This is for the best? Is that what you will tell me?” Vhalla stared intently at Aldrik’s aunt and, for once, the woman held her tongue. “Forgive me, but you know nothing about our history—not really. So I am uninclined to entertain your opinions. Separating me from Aldrik has only ever led to heartbreak and misfortune.”

  Vhalla paused, choosing to speak another truth, a deeper truth. “I may be a woman and I may be his lady, but I am capable of doing something that even he cannot. It is something beyond crowns and titles, and it cannot be given or passed along.” Vhalla stood tall with the portrait of Aldrik’s mother at her back.

  “Aldrik can produce an heir with any woman who is healthy and of age. He can share the seed of the Empire so long as that one functional requirement is met. He cannot bring down the tyrant which spills the blood of our people. He cannot touch crystals as I can. He does not know them as I do. He has not been taken to the Father’s halls and brought back for the purpose of saving this world, of breaking the vortex that spins outward from the Crystal Caverns. He cannot destroy the monster that has been wrought from greed and put an end to it once and for all.

  “But I can.” Wind swirled around her fingertips. “I can do those things
. So if you are truly so worried for the stability of the Empire, then keep Aldrik here. Let me fight alone, and should I die, then let him bear the heir you so desire.”

  The three women she’d just met stared at her in dumb shock.

  “However . . .” Vhalla couldn’t help a knowing smirk from playing on her lips. “Do tell me if you plan on suggesting such a course to him. For, from what I know of my Aldrik, he will not handle the notion of sitting by while I fight as gracefully as I have endured the reverse suggestion. His reaction to such a thought is a sight I would much enjoy being privy to.”

  Vhalla looked between the four women, as if daring one of them to speak an objection. The wind slowly fell from her hands, and Vhalla questioned herself briefly. But only as briefly as a breath. She was the Empress-to-be, and Empresses did not doubt. They were confident and graceful creatures full of knowing smiles and organized secrets. Vhalla would soon be of the same rank as the portrait of the woman at her back.

  “But please.” She forced her face to relax and was proud when it fell into a sincere smile. “Do not think I will avoid future counsel.”

  “Right,” Tina remarked cautiously as Vhalla proceeded to the next statue.

  There were no future suggestions or recommendations on how Vhalla should act as Empress. They were quieter when she spoke and more attentive to her words from then on. Vhalla watched, without fully realizing, as the women from one of the oldest and noble families in the West submitted before her. They never did so physically, but they bent knee long before the others who would come to her throne in the days to follow.

  VHALLA SHIFTED IN her seat. It was the first time she had sat on a throne—though that was a loose term for where she was now located—and all she could think was how uncomfortable it was. She was positioned at Aldrik’s right hand on a raised platform at the end of a long audience chamber. They sat upon legless chairs with their seats flat on the ground, simple compared to the thrones of the South. But what the furniture lacked in its simplicity, the room made up for in its opulence.

  The wall behind them was decorated almost entirely in silver and ruby. It had script covering it that told the story of the very first King of Mhashan, written in the native tongue. The silver crept into the wall to their right, running the length of the room and glinting on the highly polished floors. Columns framed wide openings to their left, overlooking all of Norin—the world that they ruled on display before them.

  It was certainly a space that had been designed to evoke humility at the might of the two who sat in the most revered spot. Rather than clashing with it, Vhalla blended in. They had dressed her in the traditional clothing of the West. Shining silks and intricate embroidery turned reds and golds into textile artworks.

  On her bottom half was a large and flowing split skirt with a band of red trim. A crimson vest was worn atop a flowing shirt of golden silk, fitted that morning to her measurements. Pearl buttons made a line up the middle of her breastbone to the high collar that extended up towards her ears. Her hair had been coiffed and held in place by a delicate golden band, although it was determined to escape.

  Aldrik was dressed in the same fashion, and Vhalla kept glancing at him from the corners of her eyes. He wore loose white trousers and a long-sleeved shirt beneath his own fitted tunic that was decorated in crimson suns. A large red scarf had been wrapped many times over his shoulders and it bore a long tail that he folded and carried expertly over his arm.

  He’d easily transitioned from the fitted, modern, military fashions to Mhashan’s traditional garb. Aldrik was poised and relaxed, the small golden crown across his brow making no difference in his dealings with the lords and ladies who came before them. Vhalla had not yet been bestowed a crown of her own.

  Vhalla struggled to pay attention as the endless rotation of lords and ladies were ushered in and out of the large silver doors at the far end of the hall. Had the discussion strayed to anything that seemed remotely important, she would’ve been eager to lend her insights and opinions. But, for the most part, Aldrik seemed to be on repeat, and the nobility only varied their script slightly.

  The Emperor began by giving a court member his thanks for their unwavering loyalty. The lords and ladies would then humble themselves and offer up some empty compliment or blessing on their union. Aldrik would promise that their loyalty would not be forgotten after the war, and Vhalla would chime in with hopes that their families would maintain positive relationships for years to come.

  Repeat, again, and again.

  It was a tiresome dance for her. Vhalla understood the necessity on paper, but she had a harder time coming to terms with it in practice. Aldrik had insisted on it late the night before and reiterated it that morning. He explained that there was more than met the eye to what was being done, that it served as a visual display of their power as a unified force. That the process inspired loyalty by discouraging others from being the “odd one out”, which could lead to dissention.

  Vhalla hoped that the Knights of Jadar would show their faces. They wouldn’t dare bring Jadar’s armed phoenix into the hall, but Vhalla hoped they felt forced to come and kneel before her. The idea of that satisfaction helped sustain her through the first half of the day and into lunch.

  “We should resume soon.” Aldrik had hardly touched his food. He’d been focused on the letters his uncle had given him. Vhalla’s plate looked much the same as she’d been engaged in discussing news from the East and North.

  “How many more are there?” she attempted to ask casually.

  “Not too many,” Aldrik encouraged.

  “You’re certain this is more important than reviewing troops?” Vhalla motioned to the letters.

  “I am.” The Emperor stood. “My uncle can review the letters and help the East, but he cannot sit for us in the audience hall.”

  “It is my honor to see the East protected,” Ophain encouraged.

  “Thank you.” Vhalla relented with a tired smile.

  “Endure this a little longer.” Aldrik stopped her before they crossed the threshold back into the public chambers. “I have something special for you when we finish.”

  “Something special?”

  “Yes, assuming my aunt granted my wishes of not taking you to the castle library.” Aldrik removed his crown and adjusted his hair, soothing any fly-aways from its slicked-back perfection.

  “I wondered how long you could keep it from me,” Vhalla teased.

  “Not very long, clearly.” He cupped her cheek, caressing it with his thumb. “Would it please you?”

  “How is that even a question?”

  They shared a knowing grin and were off again. Vhalla continued to dutifully play her part as both future leader and respecting wife. Some of the friendlier noblemen specifically asked her questions, and Aldrik remained silent so that Vhalla could establish herself as their Empress. Unsurprisingly, he later had critiques on her approach.

  She listened as dutifully as possible, but the second dust and parchment hit her nose, all hope was lost. The library was at the top of the castle, not far from the hall that held their quarters. Vhalla clutched Aldrik’s arm in heart-pounding anticipation. But nothing could have prepared her for one of the most beautiful sights she’d ever seen.

  The hexagon extended upward five floors, managing to be both intimate and expansive. Blood red carpet covered the usual hardwoods of the West, muffling her footfalls. The furniture was a mix of lower Western styles for lounging and higher Southern styles for studying. Two fireplaces crackled opposite each other, filling the bottom level with warmth and an inviting glow. Flame bulbs carried the glow upward, positioned on the six red beams that stretched up through the rows of bookcases at each of the hexagon’s points. A massive iron chandelier lit the upper two floors and washed the room in a pleasant ambient light.

  Despite the library’s size, each shelf was crammed full. Narrow walkways outlined each level, giving access to the plethora of knowledge. Vhalla tried to assess how many book
s this library contained in comparison to the library in the Southern capital, and added the two together to gage the size of the entire Imperial collection.

  “Do you like it?”

  Vhalla didn’t know if her head spun from the wondrousness of it all or his voice rumbling at her back. “It is amazing.”

  “And it is all yours.” His hands smoothed over the silk covering her shoulders.

  Vhalla felt like a princess. It hit her all at once. Like a fairytale come true. She was garbed in foreign finery, revered as nobility, preparing to marry the Emperor. It was more than she could’ve ever dreamed—and it had come at a cost that was far greater than she could’ve ever imagined.

  “Mine,” she repeated softly.

  “Every book in our Empire will belong to you. It will be your choice if you share them or keep them.” He intertwined his fingers with hers, beginning to lead her up a side stair.

  “Knowledge should always be shared,” Vhalla decreed thoughtfully.

  “I don’t know if I agree.” He surprised her as they rounded the second stair. Aldrik continued, “If we could have kept the knowledge of the caverns from Egmun, Victor would have never known to pursue them.”

  “But,” Vhalla followed his logic, “if I had known the full truth about the caverns from the start, I may have done some things differently.”

  “A fair point,” he conceded.

  All talk on the failures of the past and what knowledge—or the lack of—had wrought ceased as Aldrik led her through a small door wedged between bookcases. Vhalla blinked against the bright unfiltered sunlight in contrast to the dim light of the library. A wave of heat hit her cheeks, followed by the quiet whispers of wind through leaves. A familiar scent greeted her nose.

  Her senses adjusted, and Vhalla took in the garden before her. It was familiar, yet different, from the smaller glass greenhouse in the Southern palace where she had read with Aldrik. This was its own room, tucked into the walls of the castle tower. Glass replaced stone on two of the walls and above. Roses, giant and beautiful, wound up trellises that arched over the pathway cutting through the modestly sized space.