“They are threatening to ride home.” Baldair held out his hands, pleading and ignoring his brother’s righteous tirade. “Erion is leading them, and he’s not listening to me because I am not, ‘of the West’.”
“Good, then Father will see why he must respect the people whom he depends on,” Aldrik spat.
“Aldrik,” Vhalla cut into the conversation, commanding the attention of both princes with her tone alone. She crossed to her dark-haired lover and reached up to Aldrik’s cheek. He sighed softly under her touch. “Go.”
“But—”
“No.” Vhalla shook her head. “You need to show them that the future Emperor is a bigger man, a better man than the current one. I want this war to end; I will swallow any offenses against me for that goal, and I need you to do the same.”
“Vhalla,” Aldrik whispered softly.
“Go, find an end to this,” she begged of him. “You said you would take me home.”
“You are an amazing woman.” His hand went up to hers, and Aldrik looked at her lovingly.
Vhalla smiled softly at him.
“So, you’re coming?” Baldair hovered in the doorway.
“Yes.” Aldrik nodded. “And I plan to make it known that my compliance is the result of a woman who my father would rather have locked up like an animal.”
Baldair threw up his hands in defeat to Aldrik’s mood.
Her prince leaned forward and kissed Vhalla’s forehead lightly once more. She closed her eyes and sighed softly. If she was honest, she wanted him to stay. Aldrik’s presence reassured her, it made her feel safer. As though when they were together, nothing could stop them. But he did what she had asked, what he needed to do. Aldrik released her and walked over to his brother.
“Vhalla,” Aldrik spoke tenderly, but firmly. “If anyone other than me opens the door or tries to force entry, you will fight them. Lest my father try something underhanded while I am away from you.”
She nodded tiredly. “Good luck, both of you.”
The moment the door closed, the events of the day settled upon her all at once, and Vhalla leaned against the wall for support. Her knees buckled, and Vhalla slid into a ball by the door. She grabbed her arms tightly and tried to stave off the shivers, to fight off the memory of Rat and Mole and Egmun.
Vhalla also wondered in horror what the Emperor now knew about her and crystals. The cuffs were meant to work on any regular sorcerer, perhaps Aldrik’s lie of her not being able to manage the magical stones would still hold. If the Emperor knew she could manage them then that could turn her into something more. It could turn her into the Emperor’s means of unleashing a legendary power from the Crystal Caverns. Her head hurt trying to think about what that awful man may be scheming, and Vhalla pressed her eyes closed.
She must have fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew, Aldrik was shaking her gently.
“Vhalla,” he whispered.
“Wh-what?” She blinked sleepily.
“Why are you on the floor?” His voice was thick with exhaustion.
“I don’t ... I guess I fell asleep.” Vhalla didn’t want to tell him about her fears. She was certain he knew of them already. “What time is it?”
“Late,” he yawned, helping her to her feet.
They were quick to strip down to the most basic of clothes. Vhalla savored the level of comfort they had found with each other. She had to savor the few things that could still give her ease.
“Were you meeting all that time?” Vhalla asked.
“I was—we were.”
“I made a mess of things,” she muttered, sitting heavily on the edge of the bed.
“No, my father made his own mess. It was actually refreshingly amusing to watch him try to clean it up.” Aldrik crossed to stand before her.
Vhalla gazed up at her prince. He wore nothing but basic cotton trousers, pulled with a drawstring at the waist. His hair was limp, unfixed from the day’s battle of words and power plays. It curtained around his face and drew dramatic shadows across his angular features. The small flame that flickered loyally at his side cast light upon every scar he bore, telling tales of hardship and trial. Vhalla swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. There was something about his eyes that was totally different.
“Tonight, this past year, especially since the Crossroads, I’ve watched you grow. I’ve watched you find strength no one thought you had, deftly handle matters of state, navigate nobility, pushing yourself beyond every expectation,” Aldrik began.
“I was only trying to help.” The words spilled from her lips hastily. There was something about his mannerisms that elated her. That elated her so much it worried her. Her body knew what it saw in his eyes from the first word he spoke, but her mind rejected the knowledge. She was equal parts terrified at the ideas of him saying everything, and nothing at all.
“Do you enjoy it?”
“Do I enjoy it?” she repeated.
There was no parrot comment. Aldrik remained fixed on her answer.
“I suppose,” Vhalla whispered. “I’ve never been forced to synthesize knowledge like this, to really use it. It’s every piece of theory or history applied. It’s more than I’ve ever done each day, and even if it terrifies me, it often excites me.”
“There is a position which I need to fill. This position requires such things every day. Someone must assume the mantle before I can be Emperor.” The lump in Aldrik’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “It requires someone brilliant, someone strong, and someone kind. Someone who can temper me and remind me of my own humanity even in the darkest hour.”
“That sounds like a lot,” Vhalla whispered ineloquently. The moment was about to crest and with it her whole world would shatter.
“It is, and it will be.” Aldrik curled and uncurled his fingers. “But it is not without rewards. This person’s word would be trusted, respected, admired. She can shape the future of this Empire for good, for peace.” He focused on the floor a moment, a faint blush creeping up on his cheeks. “She could make her office my rose garden, forever, if she so chose.”
He knew just what to say. “How does one apply for such a position?” Vhalla whispered.
“It is not something you can apply for.” Aldrik’s eyes returned to her, and Vhalla’s chest swelled. “You must be asked.”
“By whom?”
“By me.” Aldrik knelt before her.
Vhalla struggled for sound. She struggled to breathe. Her toes had gone numb with shock—the world seemed to hang on the prince’s every word.
“Would you want me to?” he asked, taking her hands in his.
“I don’t understand,” her utterance was so faint it was barely heard. Her heartbeat was louder.
“Would you, Lady Vhalla Yarl, like to someday be the Empress Vhalla Solaris?”
“WHAT?” EVERYTHING HAD frozen into a singularity of impossibility, the world focusing on the crown prince, bare chested and on one knee before her.
Aldrik searched her face with so much fearful hopefulness that her chest threatened to explode. He didn’t say anything else. He knew she’d heard his proposal.
He proposed.
To her.
The seconds elongated—and Vhalla realized that there was no joke. There wasn’t a caveat. There was only a waiting prince before her who seemed to be panicking the longer she sat in shock.
“Not me, you can’t ... pick me.” Vhalla shook her head.
“I can. I have.” Aldrik tightened his grip on her hands, a fearful edge overcoming his words. “Vhalla, I will not force you into anything you do not want. If you—” His voice cracked, and he paused. “—if you say yes. We would not marry until you were made a Lady of the Court, our engagement would be kept secret until then—though I promise you I will honor it. But, I must know, I must know if that is a road you would walk with me, hands joined.”
Every thought she had competed for attention in her mind: a secret engagement, a life with Aldrik, ruling a realm she was never made
to rule, his rose garden, being Empress. They had so much yet to figure out. So much of their lives were in question. Vhalla wanted to pull her hands from him and demand their world to be more secure before she could even contemplate such an outlandish idea.
But, she stilled. What if they didn’t have time? What if she died tomorrow? What if, what if, what if. Those words circled in her mind and tried to obscure the one thing she wanted. The one thing she’d been fighting for from the first moment she knew what it was. The one thing that was waiting right before her.
“Yes.”
There would be time later to make sure it was the right decision, time before she swore any vows to him before the Gods and men. If there wasn’t time, then she would indulge the fantasy until her dying breath.
Aldrik blinked, his jaw relaxing and his lips parting. “It won’t be easy,” he breathed.
“You told me that before,” she reminded him.
“You’ll have to learn how to be a lady in the eyes of the Court.”
“I know.” Vhalla wondered if he suddenly regretted his decision. “I want to be with you, Aldrik. You’re my Bond, my fate is laced together with yours. You’re the first man I’ve ever truly loved, and I want to stay with you forever, if you’ll have me.”
“My lady,” he whispered in awe. “My lady!”
Aldrik pulled her off the bed, standing. His hands shifted from hers to tightening around her waist, and Vhalla’s body swelled to press against his. Aldrik captured her mouth firmly in a kiss that left no room for further questioning.
“I have something for you.” He pulled away, breathless.
“What?” Vhalla blinked in surprise.
Aldrik moved like a man who had years shaved off his life. “It should be cast in gold, more befitting of a future Empress. But silver seemed oddly appropriate, and I’ve more experience with the metal for this.” Aldrik rummaged through a chest, taking out a bag, which held a box, which held a smaller silken bag. The prince returned, presenting the white parcel to her. “I’ve been told that men in the East will offer a token to their bride to be as a promise of future prosperity.”
Vhalla took the bag gingerly, her fingers shaking. This was happening, she reminded herself as she pulled it open. She had just said she would marry the crown prince. It assumed an impossible number of things that would have to go their way. But, if it all did ...
The token he had decided to gift her with must be enchanted, as it stole all her breath and attention.
The pocket watch was smaller than his in size, but was also cast in silver. Strung by a fine chain, it held a hook that could clasp around the top of the watch to be worn as a necklace or in the traditional fashion. Its back was polished to a mirror finish. Embossed upon its front was the blazing sun of the Empire, cut in half by a wing—the same wing that had been on the back of the Windwalker’s cloaks.
“You wished for time,” Aldrik explained. “I heard each utterance when you beseeched time to stop, for mornings not to come. I want you to know I shared your every sentiment. I wanted to give you the promise of my minutes, my hours, my days.” His long fingers curled around hers, around the watch. “My future is yours, Vhalla Yarl.”
“You have a plan.” She could see it in the way he moved.
Aldrik was beaming from ear to ear as he pulled the watch from her hands, reverently unclasping it and circling it around her neck. His fingers lingered on the silver, right above her breasts where it fell. “I do.”
Vhalla found herself quickly lost in the perfect black of his eyes.
“But it is a plan that hinged on your response.”
She raised a hand, feeling the weight of the necklace as he pulled his fingers away. “How?”
“First, we must win the war and earn your freedom—but we both knew that.” The churning of the prince’s mind was suddenly written on his face. “But in the process, we will make you a Lady of the Court, which must happen for our future together not to be questioned. With each passing day, seeing you among the majors, I’ve been more confident that such will happen with ease.”
Vhalla sunk back onto the bed in shock.
“The majors are enamored with you. They admire your strong and ‘noble nature’, your grace, your poise, your stunning intelligence and eloquence, and—after tonight—your inspiring loyalty.” Aldrik sat next to her. “My father excused himself over dinner, likely to hide his face, and the moment they were free of his presence, all they spoke about was you.”
“But they can’t make a lady.” Vhalla’s hands were still passing the watch back and forth, learning it’s every curve.
“No, only my father can,” Aldrik agreed.
Her heart sank. “It’s hopeless then.”
“My love, did you think I would ask you to marry me if I thought it hopeless?” Aldrik grinned. “Think. His majors will ask for your appointment to the court. His people will cry your name as the hero of this war. The East and West both look to you.”
“That still will not make him.” Vhalla was certain of the depth of the Emperor’s hatred for her.
“And that is why my plan hinged on knowing your willingness to be my bride before I put it in action.” Aldrik took her hands in his, grounding her once more with his touch. “I told you, my father wants to abdicate the throne to me when I am thirty, if I’ve met my obligations. Those obligations include taking a wife and producing an heir.”
She nodded, but she wasn’t sure if she really understood. Her world was up-side-down, and Vhalla just had to hold onto his hands until she knew which direction the sun would rise.
“After the war has ended, I will tell him that I have given you my heart and my word as a man. He will only have two options: to raise you to a ladyship and let me marry you; or to lose the picture-perfect succession he’s been fighting toward. If he doesn’t grant me this, I will refuse to see all other women. I will honor my vow to you in silence, forever. I will wait until he dies of natural causes and then succeed to the throne and elevate you myself.”
Vhalla ran it over in her head. It was stupid. It was insane. And she kissed him for it.
“Are you happy?” He pulled away breathless.
“How can you ask that?” Vhalla laughed softly. “Aldrik, you’re nothing I expected—and everything I never knew I needed.”
She kissed him like he really had given her all the time in the world, like the dawn would never come. She allowed herself to melt into his heat and just believe, to ignore the pain and live in the fantasy. Aldrik pushed her backward and they collapsed, tangled upon the bed.
Eventually their heaving chests slowed and the two lovers stilled. Vhalla drifted off to sleep with Aldrik’s arms tightly around her. The events of the day began to blur as Vhalla eased into the land of dreams.
Vhalla instantly recognized Aldrik’s memories. Perhaps it was from her acclimation to the dreamscape, or how she and Aldrik pushed deeper into their Joining, but she had little trouble identifying the memory and separating herself from Aldrik at the start.
Her eyes focused on the dark-haired boy strolling up the tower. His body was lanky and awkward; it was as though his arms and legs had grown overnight and the rest of him had yet to catch up. He wore a white jacket, open over a light golden shirt, with red trousers. Vhalla admired the color on him, red of the West, gold and white of the Empire. His hair was unbound and went past his shoulders, straight and black.
Walking with Aldrik was a southern man with hair cropped in layers around his ears. He rubbed the hint of a goatee on his chin. The boy glanced up at him with a laugh.
“It looks like fuzz.” Aldrik’s voice was higher than she was used to, cracking from time to time to a deeper resonance.
“It’s only been four days,” the man said with a laugh.
“It still looks ridiculous.” Aldrik placed his hands folded behind his head as they walked. It was strange to see him stroll so relaxed.
“Whatever you say, my prince.” The man placed his hands in the poc
kets of dark blue pants.
“Aldrik is fine, Victor,” he sighed. “How many times do I have to tell you that?”
Victor, Vhalla thought. This was a young Minister of Sorcery?
“My prince, you are almost a man; you need to take your station seriously,” he scolded lightly.
“I do take it seriously,” Aldrik protested indignantly.
“Oh? Is that why I’ve seen you sneak off from your lessons on multiple occasions, with a Miss Neiress?” Victor grinned at his companion.
“Larel is different.” Aldrik crossed his arms over his chest.
Vhalla thought the color on his cheeks was adorable. It settled sweetly over the grief that the mention of Larel instilled in her.
“Is she?” Victor asked
“You know she is.” Aldrik’s hands dropped to his sides.
“Fine, fine, my prince. But I would not be your mentor if I did not mentor you from time to time.” Victor kept his eyes forward, waiting, and Vhalla saw the moment he waited for arrive.
“It’s never been like that between us.” Aldrik inspected a button on his coat.
“Truly?” Victor considered the young prince curiously.
“I, we thought—” The boy prince paused uncomfortably. “But it isn’t. We’re just friends.”
Victor gave him a knowing smile but said nothing. He seemed equally as charmed as Vhalla was by the awkward nature of exploring young love.
By how Aldrik spoke of his relationship with Larel, Vhalla placed this memory before Baldair’s black sheep comment, before Aldrik’s first kill, but sometime after him and Larel kissed on the timeline of Aldrik’s life. She sadly absorbed the young Aldrik. Vhalla wondered how many happy moments there were after this time. How much of his life had been spent in darkness and loneliness? She wondered how far the man she knew today was from the boy she saw here, from where a normal man would be.
The two finally stopped before a door that Vhalla recognized, the door to the Minister of Sorcery’s chambers. Aldrik raised a hand and knocked. Vhalla thought through the history she had been shown via Aldrik. If he was a boy, about this age, if Victor was still a young man ... a chill horror crept through her.