Earth's End (Air Awakens Series Book 3)

by Elise Kova

  “I had good flames to work with.” Vhalla glanced away in the direction of the fortress. Surely the last letter had been delivered already.

  As if on cue, Vhalla watched as the three royals—in no better spirits—trudged back inside. Vhalla wondered if she should be at Aldrik’s side facing whatever it was he was forced to endure. Her hand rested over her watch once more. No, after the brief encounter in the morning, she doubted that would be helpful.

  “What is it?” Daniel didn’t miss her shift in demeanor.

  “Oh, nothing.” Vhalla turned back to the group hastily.

  Daniel considered her for a long moment.

  “Would you like to see Fritz?” Jax asked.

  “You know where he is?” Vhalla was surprised.

  “Elecia’s with him.” Jax nodded and stood. “I’ll show you.”

  “Thanks.” Vhalla stood as well and said her goodbyes to the group.

  During their trek across camp, the three royals stormed out of the camp palace once more. Vhalla stopped, watching Aldrik move rigidly with clenched fists. He was in some kind of argument with Baldair that the Emperor was pretending to be oblivious to. Her hand went to her neck, feeling the watch once more. There was something deeply unsettling about the morning. What wasn’t going as planned? The North couldn’t still be trying to fight.

  Jax saw her all the way to a cleric’s tent, saying nothing of her silence. Vhalla was relieved to find Fritz awake and doing well. He had a gash on the side of his head that forced Vhalla to push away the memories of a similar wound Aldrik had worn for weeks. Fritz’s injury wasn’t nearly as severe, however.

  Elecia relinquished her position at Fritz’s bedside, walking a short distance away and engaging in a hushed discussion with Jax. Vhalla watched them thoughtfully. They had an easy familiarity about them: they always had.

  The Western woman wasn’t gone for long. She had a protective nature about Fritz that left Vhalla to wondering when it had developed. They acted like siblings, Elecia putting up with Fritz’s nonsense more than she would for anyone else.

  Jax sat with them, and they discussed their plans for after the war. He remained silent as Elecia went on about how relieved she would be to be back in the West. Vhalla wasn’t shocked at how the girl couldn’t wait to get back to all the lavish trappings her status gave her.

  What did surprise Vhalla was when Elecia spoke of coming to the capital to study in the Tower. Fritz and Vhalla were in the midst of encouraging her to do so when Major Schnurr entered the large tent.

  “Yarl?” he called gruffly. “Is the Windwalker here?” He scanned the surprised faces of clerics, wounded, and guests. Vhalla stood from the far corner, and he smiled slowly at her presence. “The Emperor has requested you.”

  Jax stood with Vhalla as well, walking at her side.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Major Schnurr spoke as though he’d just eaten something bitter.

  “Escorting her to the camp palace,” Jax announced.

  “You were not ordered to do so.” Major Schnurr didn’t seem pleased with this decision.

  “Actually,” Jax took a step forward, “I was.”

  “By who?” the major scoffed.

  “By Prince Baldair.” That stilled the major and confused Vhalla. “He ordered the Golden Guard to protect Lady Vhalla as though she were one of our own, as though she were the prince’s kin.”

  “I’ve heard of no such order.”

  “You’re calling Baldair a liar?” There was a dangerous glint instantly in Jax’s eyes at the notion.

  “That’s Prince Baldair to you, fallen lord,” Major Schnurr sneered.

  “Enough.” Vhalla held up a hand, and Jax stepped into it. “It’s fine, Jax. The major here will protect me, and we’re headed to see the Emperor. I’m sure Prince Baldair is there also.”

  Jax clearly debated this. He hesitated for long enough that Vhalla was worried he’d put up a fight. But he relented, going back to Fritz’s bedside with a glare. Elecia had a dark look about her from just staring at Major Schnurr.

  “Lead on.” Vhalla held her head high, wearing a mask of casual confidence.

  Major Schnurr didn’t speak, which suited Vhalla just fine. She was barely keeping the trembling ball of nerves in her chest from overtaking her heart. She didn’t have the courage to make small talk or ask why she was being summoned. He didn’t do anything other than check over his shoulder to make sure she was still there.

  Even though spring was already upon them, the days were still short, and Vhalla found the sun setting over her shoulder as they entered the camp palace. The main room was empty, but she heard voices coming from the back. There was little shouting, but there was also very little that sounded pleasant. Her magic still wasn’t strong enough for magic hearing, or Vhalla would’ve cast aside all notions of avoiding eavesdropping.

  “My lord, I have brought the Windwalker,” the major called.

  She heard the Emperor’s door open.

  “Ten minutes,” one of Vhalla’s most hated voices in the world called back. “If not by then, you may execute your duty.” The door slammed shut.

  Major Schnurr produced a pocket watch with a small grin, checking the time. He took a step forward, and she was suddenly aware of his proximity.

  “Sit,” he ordered, motioning to a bench.

  Vhalla’s heart beat so hard she was dizzy. She wanted her prince, and all she had was his muffled voice. Vhalla sat as she was told.

  She fumbled with the chain at her neck. Ten minutes, the Emperor had said. Vhalla looked at the watch face.

  Ten minutes until what? Vhalla tapped her foot, restless energy creeping up in her. She glanced at the major. He still had that dangerous aura about him, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

  Was the Emperor going to kill her? She’d delivered him his victory. She’d shown her heroism to the army. She’d saved his life before his most trusted general. There was no way he could kill her now.

  Vhalla turned the idea over in her head. He could do whatever he wanted, he was the Emperor. Even Aldrik couldn’t protect her, his father had made that much clear time and again.

  Vhalla checked the watch. A meager three minutes had passed. The major kept checking his as well. She picked at the seam of her tunic restlessly.

  Should she just ask why she was there? Vhalla didn’t want to know the answer. Somewhere deep in her, she knew it wouldn’t be good. It was never good for her in situations like this.

  Five minutes.

  “I need something from my room.” She stood suddenly.

  “Sit,” the major ordered.

  Vhalla glared up at him, trying to look commanding. “I will just be a moment,” her voice quivered with strain.

  “Sit.” His palm closed around her shoulder, and he pushed her back onto the bench.

  Vhalla fell clumsily, barely catching herself. Her heart pounded in her ears, not Aldrik’s heartbeat, just hers. Vhalla clenched her fists, trying to activate her magic. But the Channel remained dormant, nothing more than a trickle of power. If she had to fight, she would not put up much of one. Vhalla suddenly felt very trapped with this man, this major who should be someone she could trust.

  More shouting. Vhalla looked at her watch. Seven minutes.

  Major Schnurr checked his watch as well and tapped his foot impatiently. Her stomach knotted, Vhalla was certain she was going to be sick. Could she call out to Aldrik? Would he come to her? Could he? Her mind worked itself into a frenzy as the seconds ticked away.

  Nine minutes.

  Major Schnurr’s hand closed around the pommel of his sword.

  Vhalla’s breath caught in her throat. She stood.

  “Sit,” he growled, taking a step forward.

  “No,” she whispered, glancing for the door. If she could get outside, surely he would not strike her down before the whole of the camp? She could get a running start, maybe she had enough strength to get to a horse.

  She didn’t
want to die.

  “Sit,” he repeated.

  Thirty seconds.

  Vhalla turned and made a dash for the door. His hand closed around her wrist. She heard steel on steel as Schnurr’s weapon was halfway drawn. A strained panicked noise came from the back of Vhalla’s throat. She twisted but his hand held fast. She opened her mouth to call for Aldrik, to shout for her life, to fight with every last ounce of strength she possessed.

  The Emperor’s door slammed open. Multiple pairs of heavy footsteps were heard. The major paused, but he did not release his grip, even by a fraction. The Emperor was first around the corner, followed by Aldrik—who was instantly full of rage at the scene—and a wide-eyed Baldair. As Aldrik took a step with murderous intent, the Emperor held out his arm across his son’s chest.

  “Major Schnurr.” The Emperor stepped forward. “What is the meaning of this? Unhand the Lady Yarl.”

  The major released his grasp and Vhalla shrunk away. She rubbed her wrist and looked frantically at the men who surrounded her. Baldair appeared as though he had seen something more horrific than the battle the night prior. Aldrik did not even try to meet her eyes.

  “I was merely keeping her safe inside these walls. She has foolishly forgotten her armor today.” The major’s grip on his sword relaxed, and it slid back into its scabbard.

  Vhalla stared at him in shock.

  “She has indeed,” the Emperor agreed. “Thank you for your extreme loyalty. I trust you to know that certain things can be overlooked for those who show me such diligence,” the Emperor gave his dismissal, and Major Schnurr left.

  The Emperor walked forward, and Vhalla braced herself. His eyes were shining with malice, with pleasure, with pride, and with the thing that made her blood curdle: victory. He held a piece of paper, another letter to send back to the Northerners. Vhalla wondered what was taking the surrender so long.

  “Lady Yarl.” She noticed the Emperor using the title for the second time and was confused. “I would not recommend walking around a military camp without your armor. You never know who may take advantage of such,” he cooed with loathing. He turned for the door. “Now, to finish my Empire.”

  The Emperor strode out the doors, and Vhalla stood dazed and confused. She turned back to the princes, who seemed completely lifeless. Baldair’s eyes were filled with sorrow. She turned to Aldrik; he had not moved. His head was hung, and his eyes were fixated upon the floor.

  “B-Baldair?” She tried to find her voice. The younger prince turned away sharply. Vhalla took a step forward. “Aldrik?” she whispered.

  Her prince’s eyes came up to meet hers, and Vhalla felt her heart stop, turn to lead, and lodge itself into her throat. She swallowed hard, but nothing made that damn lump disappear. Aldrik was tired, worn, and utterly hopeless.

  “Aldrik,” Vhalla repeated, taking another step toward him. He raised a hand slowly, a crumpled piece of parchment in his fist. Vhalla closed both hands around his, and he jolted away at her touch, leaving her to catch the paper mid-air.

  Neither prince had said anything, but they both stared at her expectantly. She carefully straightened the parchment in her hands, smoothing it to read the writing upon it. Her heart stopped.

  She scanned the writing, once, twice, three times. She blinked up in shock. Her hands tightened about the official document. She looked down in awe at the signature and seal of the Emperor on the paper declaring that she was made an official Lady of the Court with all privileges, honors, and a tidy sum of gold from the Imperial coffers for her services to the crown.

  “We did it.” A smile tugged at her cheeks. “We did it!”

  When she looked at Aldrik again, her smile fell from her face—and all joy with it. Vhalla had expected happiness. She had expected him to sweep her up into his arms. She had expected him to kiss her as the woman who could now be his bride. She did not expect the shining tears that threatened the corners of the eyes.

  “Aldrik, what is it?” Vhalla dared.

  He focused on a corner of the room, taking a breath.

  “What has happened?” She walked closer to him.

  His eyes pressed closed, and he took a shaky breath. The paper slipped from her hands and fell on the floor with a rustle.

  “Tell me,” she pleaded softly. Vhalla took his hands gently in hers.

  Aldrik pulled away from her a second time. He retreated a step.

  Vhalla’s chest tightened. “Tell me!” she cried suddenly, her voice breaking from the sudden volume.

  His face jolted back to hers, and it twisted with agony. “This is over!” he snapped. “We are no more. I belong to another!”

  Vhalla felt her world stop as she looked into his eyes and saw a horrible truth.

  SHE COULDN’T BREATHE. It was as though she had completely forgotten how. Vhalla fought for air, but none seemed to enter her lungs. She stood with her mouth stupidly open, trying to feel less dizzy. “What?” She finally managed.

  “I am engaged to be wed,” he announced roughly.

  “What?” Vhalla repeated. Everything else had vanished from her head.

  “Do not parrot words like a simpleton!” he seethed.

  Vhalla physically took a step back, reeling from his rage.

  “Brother, this isn’t her fault.” Baldair placed a hand on Aldrik’s shoulder.

  “If it were not for her then—” Aldrik scowled at his brother, readying some insult. “Then—” He swung his eyes back to her, and his voice caught in his throat. Aldrik stared at the woman to whom he had promised his future. Aldrik closed his mouth and swallowed his words.

  “What happened?” The question was made with the sounds of her fracturing heart crackling up through her throat.

  “My father wanted it to be neat. It was as you said, the North would never completely bow to a foreign power. They’re too loyal to their old blood.” Aldrik’s voice varied between rage and exhaustion. “The head clan’s Chieftain has a daughter who will be of age in a year’s time. Since I am, was, conveniently un-promised ... It sweetened the surrender for them to know one of theirs would be our future Empress.” Aldrik turned and smashed his fist into a table with a cry.

  Vhalla gripped the watch around her neck. “But you-you’re not. You weren’t un-promised.”

  “What?” Baldair blinked.

  Aldrik breathed heavily, his eyes accusatory as if she’d dare speak the words.

  “Aldrik, you’re not. You asked me and I said—”

  “Quiet, woman!” The crown prince glanced away, running his hands violently through his hair. “My father did not know that. Even when I—” Aldrik swallowed. “He’d hear nothing of the idea. He wanted one of theirs under our control, to inspire loyalty through the pain we could afflict on them if nothing else, and because it will make the North loyal. He’d planned this all along, and we were stupid and blind.”

  He was speaking, but it was a different language. Nothing seemed to make sense. Nothing added up. It wasn’t possible that what she was facing was real. “So, what do we do?”

  “What do we do?” Aldrik stared down the bridge of his nose at her. “What do we do? I told you, there is no we, Vhalla. There is you, and there is me. You go off and be a lady. I have the stunning privilege of watching you safe and sound about the Court. I marry this girl and fulfill my duty.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “No!” Her voice cracked. “You always have a plan, an out, a silver tongue, a clever half-truth or way around.” She picked the paper off the floor and held it before him. “Look! Look! You-you made me a lady. Me! A farmer’s daughter is now worthy to be the love of the crown prince. If you can do that—”

  He swatted her hands away as though the paper was nothing, and Vhalla gawked at him in shock.

  “It is over!” Aldrik alternated between frustrated anger and desperate pleading for her to understand and take pity on his plight. “I fought all day. When I told him I would refuse any woman but you, he countered like a coward. He brought you here to t
hreaten me, to force me.”

  Vhalla’s eyes widened, thinking of the unheeded warnings of Lord Ophain: she was the chink in the crown prince’s armor.

  “I tried everything I could to formulate an alternative surrender, up until the moment he had you here with a man who was going to kill you if anyone other than my father walked out.” Aldrik stared down at his bloody knuckles, injured from where he’d smashed them against the table. “I traded my hand for your life. The best I could do was to insure your safety as a lady, to see you set for life with my family’s gold. That was my play.”

  She stared at him in slack-jawed shock. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t had half an idea of what had been occurring. Vhalla gripped the bottom of her tunic. It was her fault.

  “If I, if I’d worn my armor.” Her shoulders quivered. “Then, then—”

  “No.” Aldrik sighed, involuntarily softening at her apparent turmoil. “Schnurr would have put the point of his blade as soon through your eye as anywhere else, and I knew you were in no condition to fight after last night.”

  “There has to be something else we could have done.” The volume of her voice was inconsistent, changing with each shaky breath.

  “Vhalla, enough. It’s over.” Aldrik turned away from her tiredly, his shoulders hunched.

  “No!” she cried and scampered in front of him. “No!” She shook her head furiously. “What about everything we said? All we planned?”

  “Gone.” Aldrik couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eye.

  “How can you be like this?” she snapped.

  “How can you?” He turned it back on her. “I thought you knew so clearly how this would end.” Aldrik sneered down at her.

  Vhalla’s world stilled briefly from a memory that she had let herself forget, a memory of a woman, a curiosity shop, fire, and red eyes. A future telling that she had shoved away. Tears welled up in Vhalla’s wide eyes. She had known: she would lose her dark sentry. How could she have been so foolish to believe she’d beaten fate in the Pass?

  Vhalla absorbed her prince’s face, still handsome to her despite brimming with anger and pain. It was as though all she was to him now was torture. Vhalla shook her head once more, as though she could wake from this living nightmare. Her face dropped into her palms and Vhalla sobbed.