Earth's End (Air Awakens Series Book 3)

  Vhalla noted the stony-looking pieces of bark that had been strapped over her shoulders as armor. She’s not a Groundbreaker.

  “What was that?” Aldrik’s voice layered over the conversation. Vhalla had forgotten her thoughts would echo back to him. I’ll fill you in soon. I need to listen, Vhalla said hastily, not wanting to miss any more of the discussion before her.

  “We will help you see that the Imperial family is slain in their beds as long as you deliver the Windwalker to the Knights of Jadar; this has always been our deal. And need I remind you again before you run off to fire more arrows, we want her alive.” The man leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Any further attempts to kill her and we’ll be forced to assume the deal is off.”

  This sent the woman into a rage. “You south peoples make no sense!” She stomped around the room. It was strange for Vhalla to hear a Westerner be referred to as southern. “We make new deal. You kill the Solaris family without the Shaldan’s help and take the Demon when she is unprotected. In thanks, Shaldan will give you Achel.”

  This made the man pause with thought.

  “You have the axe?” he asked with genuine interest.

  “Shaldan knows its history. We have not forgotten like southern peoples,” the woman answered cryptically.

  Vhalla’s mind made a sudden connection. The axe they were speaking of, it couldn’t be the same one as what Minister Victor had mentioned to her, could it? He had told her it was an axe that could cut through anything, that would make the wielder invincible.

  “Why have you not used the axe, if you have it?” The Westerner raised his eyebrows. “The Sword of Jadar helped the knights stave off the Empire for ten years.”

  Vhalla had never read of any special sword in the battles of Mhashan.

  “You think we keep such a thing here? Inside sacred Soricium?” The woman scoffed, “No, that monstrous blade rests where it should under watchful eyes of ancients.”

  “If what you say is true—”

  “I speak true.”

  “I shall need to consult with my comrades.” The man stood, favoring his right leg. “You will send the message tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow.” The woman nodded and cursed under her breath as she stormed past Vhalla’s Projected form and into the hall, slamming the door behind her.

  Vhalla followed the man with her eyes as he walked slowly over to the window, a slight limp to his gait. She raised her hand, seeing his form blurred on the other side. If she could use her magic in this form, she could blow him out the window. She could send him tumbling head over heels down the side of the tree and into the unforgiving ground four stories below.

  “Vhalla?” Aldrik distracted her from her murderous thoughts. “Have you found the food stores yet?”

  No, I’ll look again. She dragged herself from the room with every ounce of willpower she possessed and back downstairs.

  “Again? Have you not been searching for them?” His concern was apparent.

  I’ll tell you when I’m no longer Projecting. I’m very tired. Vhalla looked up at the sun when she reemerged on the bottom floor.

  She’d spent longer Projected than she had before; returning to her physical body was already going to be difficult. Aldrik stayed silent while she wandered the camp once more. The conversation she’d overheard only served to darken her mood and confuse her feelings further. She was back to loathing the Northerners, but only the select group who furthered the war for their own personal agendas.

  Vhalla was discovering that it was not a region or race of people that soured her, it was a type. It was the leaders who would do anything for their legacy. She hated those who clung to the past at the expense of the future. More than anything, she couldn’t stand the type of person who cared only for themselves at the expense of others.

  Vhalla wondered which type of person she was. Did her sympathy for the common man absolve her for being the executioner for the crown? Did her hatred for the Emperor expunge the guilt of twisting the knife into the dying belly of the North? Did her love for Aldrik justify accepting his words that this was how it had to be? That the momentum headed toward another slaughter could not be halted?

  Vhalla returned to her body slowly. Her head felt heavy and her eyes blurred with tunnel vision. Aldrik was at her bedside, but her ears had yet to click back into alignment and his words were muddled. Vhalla focused on finding her heart, then her lungs, then everything else.

  “Aldrik,” she rasped.

  “My love,” he whispered, the sun illuminating his face through the open window.

  Tears burned up her chest and streamed down her cheeks in rivulets. Vhalla hiccupped and reached for him as Aldrik pulled her into his arms. She clawed for the tightest grip possible on his shirt. Vhalla pressed her face against him and let everything he was engulf her. She drew strength from his warmth, stability from the heart that beat in time with hers, comfort from the way he smelled.

  Aldrik said nothing as she cried. He shifted slightly, allowing her to burrow into him, but didn’t try to stop her tears. He knew better; Vhalla realized with a dull ache that there was a time he had cried these tears. He had mourned the loss of his humanity, sacrificed at the altar of duty that forces beyond his control had constructed.

  His fingers untangled her hair lovingly, and he kissed the top of her head. Vhalla pulled away, looking at his ghostly white Southern skin turned orange in the light of the setting sun. It was as though the fire within him burned right beneath his flesh, glowing far too beautifully for the ugly corner of the world they found themselves within.

  “We must help them,” Vhalla whispered. “The Northerners.” “Vhalla.” Aldrik’s lips parted in surprise.

  “We must,” she insisted. “No one else will. I know, Aldrik, I know.” Vhalla shook her head. “But I cannot turn a blind eye to them.”

  Aldrik took a slow breath, and Vhalla braced herself for an objection. “What would you have me do? How do you think I can help them?”

  His face blurred through her tear-rimmed eyes. He was offering to help. Vhalla had expected to see him withdraw, to insist upon the inevitable. There was a lost sort of confusion on Aldrik’s face, but her prince was sincere.

  “You will be the Emperor of Peace.” Saying it sent a small shiver down her arms and into the hands that were wrapped tightly around his. He was going to be the Emperor. This man, her love, was going to be the Emperor. “Start cementing your place as such now.”

  “If I call for leniency in battle, I will lose the respect of all the soldiers.”

  Vhalla glared at the corner of the room, frustrated at his truth. “I know. But when the war is over, commit to rebuilding the North, their homes.”

  “The cost of that, Vhalla—”

  “Did your father and brother not bring spoils back with them from the warfront?” She straightened, rubbing her eyes with the heel of her palm. “Has the Empire not profited in land and pillaging?”

  Aldrik was silent.

  Vhalla was tired, beyond tired, but resolute. “Return that wealth to them and rebuild this land. Show them that the Empire they have every reason to hate is not purely evil.”

  Aldrik stared at her as though he had never seen her before. His hands were on her face, cupping her cheeks. “Yes. Yes, my lady, I will.”

  “What?” Vhalla hadn’t expected his acceptance with such ease.

  “You’re right. I promise you I will see this done.” “Truly?” she asked skeptically.

  “Have I ever broken a promise to you?” The corner of Aldrik’s mouth curled upward. Vhalla shook her head, his thumbs still caressing her cheeks. “And I never will.”

  Aldrik brought her face to his, and Vhalla met his mouth with a firm, waiting kiss.

  “You will return the heart to this Empire, my lady.” Aldrik pressed his forehead against hers. “I will try to see this war end as quickly as possible, and when it is done, I will speak for the North and its people.”

  “Thank you.”
She pressed her lips against his in gratitude.

  It was a cheap demonstration. Vhalla knew it didn’t absolve them. It was like trying to wash the blood off their hands with mud, no matter that they were filthy with the acts they were performing. But it was all that could be done.

  It was better than nothing, she insisted to herself. There would be time after the war was over to figure out how else she could help. For now, she would focus on ending it as quickly and cleanly as possible. “Let me tell you where the food stores are.”

  Aldrik spent the next hour hunched over her shoulder as Vhalla drew lopsided diagrams of what she’d seen. She did her best to label everything, from livestock pens to where the densest collection of civilians was. The quill paused.

  “There’s something else,” Vhalla began slowly, unsure of how to proceed.

  “What?” Aldrik could infer a good deal by her tone. “I found a Western man among them.”

  “Likely a prisoner of war.” Aldrik rested a palm on her shoulder. “We were probing Soricium for months before we could cut a path to lay siege.”

  “No, he was not being held against his will.” Vhalla stared at the paper before her, and Aldrik’s grip tightened. He was too smart not to instantly understand what she was saying. “He’d made a deal with them, on behalf of the Knights of Jadar, that if the North gave me to them alive, they’d kill the family Solaris.” Vhalla gazed up at Aldrik. The prince had a murderous stillness about him. She held her tongue, letting him formulate the best response.

  He whirled in place, fire crackling around his fists, starting for the door. Vhalla was on her feet as well; the room spun from exhaustion and she gripped the chair for support. Aldrik stopped, assessing her tired form. He was back at her side, scooping up her messy drawings.

  “When was the last time you slept?” Aldrik half supported her, turning for the bed.

  “Some, the night before last,” Vhalla admitted. “With you, yesterday.”

  “You must rest,” he whispered over her lips, sealing his demand with a kiss.

  “It’s evening, I should—”

  “You’re staying here now.” Aldrik pulled back the covers on the bed.

  “What?” Her face had gone scarlet at the idea.

  “It’s not safe, not with the Knights making an organized play. I won’t have you far from me again. As far as my father is concerned I will be staying with Baldair.” Aldrik paused, helping her under the blankets. “But I will come as often as you’d like.”

  She was too tired to fight him and the pillows were already casting a spell on her. Vhalla gripped his hand tightly. “Your father,” she gave her objection.

  “Vhalla, I am not going to ask him for this. I am going to tell him,” Aldrik spoke in a tone she hadn’t heard before. Vhalla stared, stunned, as he straightened away. “I’ll be back later, to check on you at the least, but rest for now. No matter what, I won’t be far.”

  Vhalla nodded and Aldrik disappeared out of the room. He stood taller, he walked with a sort of confidence she’d never seen about him before. Vhalla didn’t know what exactly was changing her prince, but there was a change—she’d heard it in his words.

  He hadn’t spoken like a prince. He’d spoken like an Emperor.

  SHE STIRRED AS the door opened. Vhalla remembered the day in panic, immediately envisioning a dagger-wielding cloaked figure coming for her. Taking a breath she sat, her muscles taut—ready to fight or flee.

  Aldrik’s eyes picked up the faint moonlight and flashed in the darkness. He stilled, as if waiting for her to send him away. Vhalla held her breath. The crown prince was sneaking to her side under the cover of night. It felt like another world, as though the day was the dream and this moment was real.

  The door sighed softly as he closed it the rest of the way. Aldrik crossed to the bed, his breathing slow and heavy. He stared down at her with eyes she’d only seen once before but was pleased to already see again. Vhalla propped herself up onto her elbows, pulled by attraction to meet his mouth as it descended upon her.

  The mattress yielded at his weight, and the prince chased away all thoughts by heaping his adoration upon her. He tasted of metal and smoke and of the sweet tang of liquor. Magic was hot on his tongue, and it melted across her skin. Vhalla relinquished her control, tipping her head back and allowing the prince to take what he had wanted.

  She savored the confidence of his palms as they smoothed away the toils of the day. They discarded the ugly scraps of fabric that confined her, leaving Vhalla’s emotions bare before him, the raw essence of who she was.

  The dexterity of his fingers and hips had her breath hitching in seconds. Now that the initial fears of having her faded, there was a new flame ignited in the crown prince. He moved leisurely, exploring Vhalla as though she were an enigma crafted for him—and only him—by the gods themselves.

  Deeper than physical, her magic called out to and coiled around his. It tangled hopelessly across their Bond, their Joining, and made a raw and beautiful mess out of them. Aldrik was wonderfully fearless. He didn’t wall off her body or mind, and Vhalla explored and savored every dark and secret corner of him.

  By the time the first rays of gray sunlight crept into the room, they had only managed a few hours of sleep. She lay on her side, Aldrik’s face buried in her hair and his breath hot on her neck. One of the crown prince’s arms was snaked around her bare torso, the other underneath the pillow.

  Vhalla blinked tiredly at the unrelenting dawn. The light was so harsh, burning away the fever-heat dreams of the night. She felt Aldrik stir.

  “Don’t go,” she whispered.

  “It’s dawn and my father thinks I’m staying with Baldair.” His voice was thick and graveled with sleep.

  “I will go mad if you leave this bed.” She gripped his hand tightly.

  “And I may go mad if I stay.” Aldrik sunk his teeth into the tender flesh where her neck met her shoulder.

  “You couldn’t possibly ...” Vhalla’s words trailed off when he ground his hips into her. “You’re insatiable!”

  She wriggled in his arms to face him. Aldrik had a half-drunk smile, lazily tilted between his cheeks. His hair was a mess of raven, spilling partly over his shoulders, tangled against the pillow. Vhalla had discovered a prince no one knew existed, and she had made him hers.

  “I had the most wonderful dream,” he breathed.

  “Did you?” Vhalla ran her fingers through his hair, catching on a snare. “What did it involve?”

  “The most wonderful thing I have.” The prince caught her hand, bringing it to his lips. “You.”

  Despite everything, he could still make her blush. “Do you have such dreams often?”

  Aldrik paused, answering hesitantly, “I actually do.” He pressed his mouth against hers. “Then again, maybe that isn’t so surprising, for I am quite enamored with you.”

  Vhalla grinned against his lips, and Aldrik ate her elation hungrily. They delayed the dawn as long as possible, but the moment was shattered with the sound of the door down the hall closing. Vhalla’s blood cooled, and Aldrik tightened his grip on her. This time the motion was purely protective.

  The Emperor’s footsteps grew closer, before turning into the main room.

  “I should go,” he hastily whispered.

  Vhalla sighed and gave no further objections. Aldrik stood and Vhalla shamelessly watched him dress.

  “I will see you shortly.”

  She lay in bed, ignoring the rising sun for longer than was proper. Vhalla finally pried herself away when the covers relinquished his warmth. She dressed slowly, pleased to discover that the small pile of clothes she’d generated from staying in Aldrik’s room before he’d arrived hadn’t been removed.

  Vhalla was met with an almost empty main hall when she finally emerged. Baldair sat alone, perusing some papers, mostly empty plates scattered around him.

  “You missed breakfast.” He glanced over at her.

  “I can see that.” Vhalla sat
down at an untouched plate, one she could only assume was for her.

  “It was a real treat too.” Baldair rolled his eyes.

  “I bet.” Vhalla tore off a hunk of stale bread unceremoniously. Silence passed between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Vhalla had begun to understand Baldair, at least she thought so. In the time she’d spent with his brother, and with the man himself, she’d begun to learn and see more about how the younger prince ticked. “So he told you then?”

  Baldair nodded. “He told me and Father last night. Is it true?”

  “Is what true?” Vhalla was left wondering if he had somehow misunderstood her.

  “That there’s this Western group helping the North to kill us?” Baldair asked gravely.

  “Do you think I would lie about something like that?” She frowned.

  “Well, it would be a convenient way for you to get to spend every night in his bed.”

  Vhalla rolled her eyes. “I would stay in his bed every night if it pleased us. Honestly, I would rather be sneaking in to do so than having to face your father’s ire.”

  “That’s a very good point,” Baldair laughed. “But unfortunately, I don’t think it’s a point you’ll be able to use to convince my father of the truth of your claims.”

  “Your father decides what he will think of me and ignores all else.” Vhalla pushed around some meat and gravy on her plate, hoping it would soften the stale hunk of bread.

  “You know, I’ve decided I like this side of you.” Baldair regarded her thoughtfully, and Vhalla gave him a look that encouraged him to continue. “The bold confidence,” he clarified. “I see shades of Aldrik to the point that I know your boldness will give me a headache sooner or later—when it’s directed at me. But, at the same time, it’s opposite him. It’s far more vivacious. You’ve become quite headstrong.”

  “Have I?” she asked, unconvinced.