“I’m sorry to disturb you, my prince. I forgot my armor here.” Her resolve had vanished.
“Why did you seek me out if you just wanted your armor?” The question was gentle when it could’ve been annoyed.
She didn’t have an answer.
“Wait for me in his room.” Baldair nodded his head toward the door across the hall.
Vhalla paced a groove into the floor as she waited. With each step, she oscillated between every mantle that had been thrust upon her over the past year: the library girl, the sorcerer, the soldier, the agent of death. Part of her sang her innocence in it all, including the straw that had broken her back with sudden guilt, Daniel. The other part intoned how she had a hand in crafting it all. She tugged on her fingers in thought.
“Yes, I’ll make it up to you tonight and then some.” She caught Baldair’s melodic chuckle through the thin walls of the camp palace.
When the door opened to Aldrik’s room, a much more properly dressed prince stood in its frame.
“Vhalla?” Baldair closed the door behind him, waiting for her to explain her reason for seeking him out.
“Am I?” she whispered.
Confusion furrowed his brow as the prince frowned.
“What am I?” She shook her head. “Am I Vhalla? Am I owned? Am I free? Am I Serien? Am I strong or weak or ... I don’t know.” She stared at her hands, as if confused as to where they had come from. “I can kill and love with the same heart. I don’t find fear in the things I should and yet can be terrified of the fact. Baldair, I don’t know what I am—who I am—anymore.” The words had been a long time coming, but Vhalla hadn’t even thought them before they crossed her lips. She’d fallen in the Pass and had risen as someone different. She was no longer Vhalla Yarl the library apprentice, and she no longer needed the shell of Serien Leral. She was more than the tool the Emperor saw her as and less than the woman she’d hoped she’d become.
The in-between was threatening to smother her.
“I do,” Baldair said gently and took her hands in his steady ones. “I know who you are.”
She peered up at him. What could he possibly know about her heart that she couldn’t figure out herself ? He was the brother of the man she loved. He was the son of the man who owned her. But, really, until now he had been nothing of particular importance to her. He was about to define himself.
“You are as unrelenting and determined as the wind itself. You are doing what you must to survive. It’s what we’re all doing, leaning on what we must to keep the pieces together.”
She shook her head, her guilt wouldn’t allow her to accept it. “That’s just an excuse.”
“An excuse for what?” he asked gently.
“An excuse for ...” Vhalla dropped her face in her palms, “For the things I have done.”
“What things?”
She shook her head.
“Is this about Daniel?” It was phrased as a question, but by his manner Baldair clearly already knew the answer. Vhalla raised up her eyes from her hands. Baldair sighed. “Vhalla, have you thought that this could be a good thing?”
“Don’t you dare say that!” Fire pulsed through her veins. “My brother isn’t—”
“I love him!” Vhalla cut off Baldair. “I love Aldrik.” Saying it aloud reaffirmed the source of her most immediate guilt.
Baldair stared at her, a sad sort of hopelessness pulling on his shoulders. Vhalla turned, grabbing herself. She didn’t want to be around this prince if that was all he had to say.
Two strong arms wrapped around her, and Baldair pulled her back to his chest. “All right, all right, I know you do.”
“Then why do you ...” Her words collapsed into a heavy sigh. “Because I hate sitting by and watching something destined for so much heartache. Because I remember the first time we met.” Vhalla smiled faintly at the memory of the Imperial Library. “Gods, you were this tiny, nervous thing. I thought I’d have you halfway to ecstasy or agony by touching you and, Mother, it was fun to toy with you.”
“I’d never met a prince before.” Vhalla squeezed his forearm and laughed lightly. His touch did not bring ecstacy or agony for her. It was an easy, uncomplicated comfort.
“And now look at you.” He walked around, his palms on her shoulders. “It pains me to see world-weariness in someone who shouldn’t have lost their innocence. But I see that it is well and truly gone, and trying to stop the forces in motion is futile now.” Baldair held her face gently with a wide hand. “I admit my methods have not been the best. But I never wanted to hurt you. I only ever wanted to keep you from all this. If I had known my amusement of inviting you to that gala just to see what my brother would do would’ve led you to war ...”
Vhalla shook her head, unsure how they’d arrived at clearing the air between them. “I don’t blame you.”
“Thank you.” The prince sounded sincere. “Now, I have promised Aldrik I would see you well. And I will keep that promise, no matter what happens to him.” The fact that Baldair had to add such a caveat to the end of his vow brought a pang of pain straight to her heart. “So I need you to keep moving. As Vhalla, as Serien, as the Windwalker or as no one, however you find the strength to wake up each morning and move.”
“How do I know if I’m doing the right thing?” She wavered, uncertainty creeping in and chipping away at the strength her voice had been building over the past week.
“You don’t, you never will.” Baldair wore a sincere smile. “We’re all trying to find our way, no one has it figured out any more than you do. You’re not that special, Miss Windwalker.”
The prince gave her a friendly nudge, and Vhalla was brought to laughter. Things still felt unresolved but, if she’d understood the prince correctly, it was fine to leave them that way for a bit. She couldn’t spend her days collapsing into a heap with worry over Aldrik, just as she couldn’t let feelings for Daniel grow from her desperation for validation and comfort.
So, Vhalla continued to masquerade as Serien and kept her hands busy. They didn’t yet know what her future would be and it seemed premature to give up the guise. It went unquestioned, even by Erion—whom Vhalla was seeing a lot more of since she decided to continue training in the sword. Erion had a very different style than Daniel and was eager to “correct” all of the skills Daniel had previously imparted to her. Daniel, in turn, adjusted her movements back.
She didn’t quite know if she could trust herself to be around Daniel, though that didn’t stop her. A small pile of clothes, raided from military storerooms, grew in Daniel’s shack, a mirror to what grew in Aldrik’s room. An extra bedroll was a secondary nest on the floor, where she slept when the nights were too quiet and her chest felt too empty to be alone. Daniel never asked what made her come to him. He never asked about the nightmares that sent her silently slipping into bed next to him.
Daniel was ten times the gentleman than the rest of the Golden Guard. Everyone else had made comment about their unconventional relationship, while she never heard even a word of pressure from Daniel. It quickly came to weigh on her.
She had taken to eating dinner with Baldair. The prince carved out time for her, which was when he probed gently into Vhalla’s mind, like a doctor inspecting a wound to see if it was healing or festering. She’d begun to open up during these meals, sipping on spiced alcohol or playing Carcivi. Enough so, that when things with Daniel were becoming even more confusing than they had been, Vhalla confided in Baldair.
The prince suggested simply asking Daniel outright about the true nature of his feelings. It was a simple idea, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it for another full day. It had been a dream of red-eyed and twisted monsters shining with blueish wickedly gleaming stones that had brought her disturbed and shaking into his bed and arms. While she waited for the irrational and intense fear to subside, Vhalla focused on his warm breath on the nape of her neck.
“Daniel,” she whispered into the darkness, hoping he was asleep.
“Yes
?” he replied.
She swallowed her trepidation. “What are we?”
“I’ve been waiting for you to tell me,” he replied after a long moment. “But I’m not in any hurry.”
“Why?”
He gave a raspy laugh. Vhalla had noticed his voice was more raw these days, as he led more drills than he had on the march. “Why, indeed?” He shifted behind her, and Vhalla felt his thigh brush against hers. He lay a hand’s distance away, as chaste as possible while still offering comfort. “Maybe because I’m afraid if I force you to choose, I won’t like the result.”
Vhalla bit her lip.
“I’d rather have this, whatever this is, than nothing. It’s nice to have someone with me, even if that someone is ‘no one’.” Daniel pressed his forehead between her shoulder blades and Vhalla stiffened briefly at the contact. “Don’t I sound pathetic?” “No ...” Her hands sought out his and their fingers intertwined. “You sound honest.”
His words lingered with her over the next few days. Did she have the strength to accept things as they were? To enjoy them for whatever they could be without care for what tomorrow may bring? It was a luxury she didn’t think she possessed.
Aldrik lingered on the edge of her thoughts. He was there when she saw Erion out of the corners of her eyes, his high cheekbones and black Western hair playing tricks on Vhalla’s mind. He was there when mentioned on the others’ lips. Aldrik was there every dawn and every sunset when Vhalla turned her eyes south, praying to see the host returning.
In some ways, she grew more in two weeks than she had in some years of her life. But no amount of training or mental fortitude could have prepared Vhalla for the night the crown prince returned to her life.
The curtain of Daniel’s shack was thrown back without warning. Vhalla blinked awake, confusion thick in her sleep-hazed mind. Jax stood in the doorway, a small flame burning over his shoulder, and she was instantly grateful it was a night she hadn’t decided to share Daniel’s cot.
“By the Gods, man, what’s wrong with you?” Daniel swore groggily.
“Vhalla Yarl, you must come with me.” There was no familiar glint to Jax’s eyes. Nothing to indicate the friendship she had been building with the man.
“What is it?” Her heart began to race.
“I said come with me, now.” Jax had a conflicted restraint to his movements.
“Where?” Daniel asked on her behalf, sitting.
“The Emperor requests your presence.” Jax was focused only on her. Five words had never brought Vhalla so much hope and dread.
“What’s going on, Jax?” Daniel asked, dropping his voice. “It’s just us, you don’t have to follow his commands like an automaton among friends.”
“I said now.” Jax walked in, grabbing her by the arm and tugging her forward.
“That’s enough, Jax!” Daniel was on his feet.
“Don’t interfere with Imperial orders!” Jax barked back, pushing her out of the shack. Vhalla stumbled but quickly righted herself. Jax didn’t place his hand on her person again, he didn’t need to as Vhalla fell in line obediently.
They were both pawns of the crown, she realized. But there was no time to process that revelation as her eyes fell on the mass of people before the camp palace. She clenched her hands into fists and her heart began to race. If the Emperor was here, then that meant Aldrik would be as well.
Vhalla turned to Jax suddenly. “Before we’re there, tell me, is the crown prince ... is he alive?”
The Head Major of the Black Legion said nothing, but he did not scold her for pausing her forward progress either.
“Jax, tell me, please,” Vhalla pleaded.
“The crown prince lives,” he affirmed with a nod. That was the only hope he gave her before they continued onward.
“The Windwalker!” A soldier noticed her when she drew close to the crowd. It was strange to have someone identify her as Vhalla Yarl on sight. But these soldiers had been present for the fight in the Pass: she had already cast off the guise of Serien before them.
The crowd parted in awe.
“She lives,” someone whispered.
“It’s true: she flew like a bird.”
“The wind protects the crown,” another told their friend proudly.
Vhalla stared at them, shades of the sandstorm returning to her. She didn’t know the cause of their reverence. She had no doubt that these people held little love for Aldrik. But they stared upon the person who had saved their prince as though she were the first ray of dawn.
“Windwalker,” one called as she approached the doors of the camp palace with Jax. Vhalla paused and the Westerner didn’t force her forward. “Will you be able to wake the prince?”
The question was a crushing blow and the person delivered it with so much hope.
“I ...” she faltered in her response.
“The Emperor has demanded the Windwalker’s presence,” Jax announced, sparing her from any explanation as he ushered her into the long hall.
The Emperor stood over one of the tables, alone. “Jax, leave us.” He didn’t even turn to face them.
Jax gave her one more guarded look, and then departed.
“Do you hear how they call for you?” The Emperor sighed. “Do not let their praise go to your head, girl. They only do so because I had to claim that I was the mastermind behind your little quest.”
The Emperor turned, and Vhalla felt as small as a field mouse under his stare.
“You.” His eyes raked over her. “You, a nothing, forced the
Emperor to lie to his people. Are you proud of that fact?”
“No.” Vhalla averted her eyes for the illusion of respect. The last thing she wanted to do was aggravate the man further. She knew her actions were going to earn his ire as a soldier that had refused orders. But she hadn’t considered how they could be viewed as a challenge.
“I do not like being forced to do anything, especially by a no one.” The Emperor slowly approached her. “Have I not been merciful? I asked you only to remain focused, to give me the North, and in return I would give you back your freedom.”
His palm rested on the crown of her head in an almost fatherly manner. Vhalla wanted to swat the offending contact away.
“And how do you repay my benevolence?” The Emperor’s voice had taken a dangerous turn. His fingers clenched into a fist and with it a handful of hair. Vhalla yelped as she was pulled to her toes to keep half her scalp from ripping off her head. “Look at me when I speak to you,” he snarled.
Vhalla pried her eyes open, blinking away tears from the pain. She wouldn’t cry in front of this man.
“You repay me with disobedience. Theft and death of the crown prince’s horse—a horse worth more than your miserable life—ignoring orders, conspiracy. You revealed yourself as the Windwalker. You needlessly put your life in danger, a life that belongs to me.”
Vhalla scowled. Trying to save his son was “needless”?
The Emperor frowned, as if he could sense her rebellious thoughts, and tossed her backward. Vhalla stumbled, dropping to a knee. “All for what?” Emperor Solaris raised his boot, placing it over her face. “To save life of a man whom you should have nothing to do with. Whose name your lips are barely worthy to speak, even should your small mind actually remember the proper title.”
He extended his foot, and Vhalla was forced backward to avoid breaking her nose on his heel. The Emperor regained a two-footed stance when she was sprawled before him. His presence was overwhelming, as though she was truly nothing more than the dirt beneath his boots.
“I am going to give you one order, an order so simple that it should get through even your thick skull.” Emperor Solaris spoke slowly, as though she were daft. “Spring will be upon us in a handful of weeks, and I promised my people that Soricium would fall before the winter was out. You have until then to deliver me that city or I will see you hung and quartered, magic be damned. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly.” Venom
laced the word. How was it possible to love the son and hate the father with equal passion?
“As far as my men are concerned, you are my hero. I strongly suggest you play that part.” The Emperor was almost nonchalant as he returned to the table. “But understand it is only an illusion. You will never experience freedom again.”
He was revoking his word, she realized. It no longer mattered if she gave him the North or not. Her choices were no longer freedom or servitude. Her choices were servitude or death.
“Now get out of my sight.”
Vhalla didn’t need to be told twice.
VHALLA HEEDED THE Emperor’s advice and tried to smile bravely and accept the soldiers’ compliments and praise as she left the camp palace. Her exterior seemed to project the desired message, but inside, bitterness churned roughly against anger and betrayal to create a sour poison. The return of the Emperor and the soldiers who knew her true identity had lifted the guise of Serien once more, and with it her lies of freedom and hopes for the future had been torn away as well.
“Vhal?”
Through her internal chaos and the commotion of the soldiers around her, a soft voice echoed straight to her ears. Vhalla turned frantically, trying to find the source.
“Vhal!” Fritz thrust his arm into the air, drawing her attention to him.
“Fritz!” She rudely pushed past people to get to her friend. Vhalla practically tackled the messy-haired Southerner, who appeared tired but in one beautiful piece. “Thank the Mother, you’re all right.”
“I should be saying that to you.” He laughed lightly, but his arms told a different story as they clung to her. “You’re the one who ran through the North.”
“It was nothing,” Vhalla mumbled.
“Hah, ‘nothing’ she says.” He pressed his forehead against hers briefly. “I was worried.”
“I know.” She straightened.
“You had us both worried.” Vhalla wondered if Elecia had been standing at Fritz’s side the whole time.