by Elise Kova
“That’s it? You don’t know?” he mumbled, stitching up her wound.
“That’s it.” She kept from shrugging. “How often do you know what your brother is thinking?” The corner of Vhalla’s mouth tugged upward by a fraction, and the prince actually chuckled.
“I just knew you were going to be amusing.” He shook his head and motioned for her to sit so he could stich up the back.
“How did you learn how to do this?” she asked, finding conversation easier than expected, given the circumstances. It was something about Prince Baldair, the same easiness she felt in his room.
“My brother played with spell-books, I played with swords. One gives you paper cuts, the other removes your fingers. I saw so many clerics that I learned the basics.” Baldair held out her arm and wrapped the wound closed. “Careful. Don’t rip your stitches.”
“Tell that to my guards,” she bit out.
The prince didn’t even try to hide a grimace. He pulled out a rag and another large leather bladder from the bottom of the box. Wetting the cloth, he handed it to her.
“Here, it’s only water.” He took a small sip, as if to encourage her. Vhalla didn’t think he’d spend so much time patching her up if he was about to poison her. She took the rag and wiped her face, pausing a moment to look at the mix of black and red that smeared it.
“I must look like death itself,” she mused at the soiled fabric.
“Worse than death.” He did not even try to flatter her. “After seeing you in the courtroom, my brother broke a mirror and a vase, and set a chair on fire on his way to the council rooms. I couldn’t get a cleric’s box fast enough.”
Vhalla laughed faintly and smiled for the first time in what felt like weeks. He pulled out a different cream and ran a thumb down her cheek. She stiffened slightly but she didn’t find his touch unsettling anymore, at least in this limited capacity.
“There we go. You’re prettier when you smile.” The prince reflected her expression on his face but the moment was short-lived. She had no reason to be happy.
“They’re going to kill me, aren’t they?” Vhalla asked calmly.
His smile faded. “They’re going to try,” he replied with a nod.
She respected him more for not lying to her. “Why?”
“I don’t know.” Baldair shook his head. “Egmun was calling for it before Aldrik had even carried you back to the palace.”
Vhalla was distracted a moment, trying to imagine Aldrik carrying her anywhere. Prince Baldair cleaned up his box, leaving her the bladder of water, a group of clean rags, the jar of cream he’d used on her face, and a small vial of green looking syrup. She returned her attention to him as he stood.
“I figure, you have more you’d like to scrub off without me here. The salve you can use on any other cuts.” The prince motioned toward the items.
Vhalla glanced at the gash running up her thigh that disappeared under the sack dress and nodded. “Thank you,” she said honestly.
“The green stuff, Deepsleep, it’ll ease the pain and help you sleep.”
Vhalla looked at it uncertainly; she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be in a drug-induced slumber around Rat and Mole. “Please, don’t go,” she begged faintly.
“I’m not really supposed to be here.” He sighed and picked up the box.
“Then lock me in and take the key with you. Give it back to Mole tomorrow,” she pleaded with him. “Lock them away from me. If I have to be here all night with them, I’ll...” A shiver ran through her.
“Mole?” The prince asked. Vhalla put a finger on her cheek where Mole had his unfortunate facial feature. “Ah.” Prince Baldair considered her request for a moment and then locked the door with the key Mole had left in the lock earlier. He showed it to her before slipping it into his coat pocket. She nodded.
“My prince,” she said quickly. He looked at her, “Tell Aldrik...”
He glanced down the hall. Tell Aldrik, what? She hadn’t thought that far ahead. That she’d never forget their dance, for however long the rest of her short life was? That she enjoyed his company more than she ever expected? That she had yet to still sort through all the complex feelings surrounding him? In the end, she simply had to hope he knew.
“Please tell him, thank you, and I’m sorry.” The prince gave her a strange look and nodded. “And thank you too, Prince Baldair, for whatever reason you did this.”
“Be careful,” the golden prince cautioned. “You seem sweet, Vhalla. Clearly you have something magical about you, and while I don’t really understand it all, I do understand that Aldrik has fire in his veins.”
“He is a Firebearer,” she explained dumbly.
Prince Baldair chuckled softly. “I know what he’s called.” The prince shook his head, glancing away. “I don’t want to see you getting wrapped up in my brother’s dark world and hurt again. That’s all.”
He wasn’t interested in giving her a chance to formulate a response. The prince left with the key, and Vhalla heard his footsteps disappear down the hall. A cold shiver ran through her.
Alone, she was left with her thoughts and the demons that lived there. The memory of Sareem came back to her, and Vhalla made a futile attempt to catch her sobs with a palm over her mouth. It was pointless, and she was soon doubled over, her sobs echoing through the halls. Every time she blinked, she saw his face, his twisted and broken face staring at her with its one good eye.
Knowing the prince walked away with the key, she grabbed for the bottle of green liquid and took a large gulp. Before Mole and Rat returned, she used a little more water and the rags to finish a near pointless cleaning of herself, choking down tears. Vhalla applied the cream to all the surface wounds she could find and then laid down.
She was exhausted and the potion set in quickly. Her whimpers soon faded into silence and Vhalla passed out on the stone floor with little problem.
SURPRISINGLY, VHALLA SLEPT fairly well. Extreme exhaustion did wonders for sleeping through the night, no matter the conditions. Sitting up, Vhalla’s head throbbed and she rubbed the stiffness from her joints.
She used one of the damp cloths the prince had left to freshen her face, even if it made it no cleaner. Vhalla glanced at her doorway and saw the shoulder of a man standing there. Likely Mole. She laid back down and closed her eyes, not wanting to alert them that she had woken. Another set of footsteps strolled down the hall.
“You got assigned here too?” It wasn’t Mole’s voice.
“Like he’d separate us.” It wasn’t Rat. “Crazy story, isn’t it?”
Vhalla sat up, confused.
“Who’s there?” she asked, and two new faces stared at her.
“I’m Craig,” said a Southerner who appeared about Aldrik’s age.
“Daniel.” An Easterner. Something about his relaxed and youthful eyes made Vhalla feel marginally easier.
“What happened to Mo—the other guards?” she asked.
The two exchanged a look. “Last night, the crown prince found them stealing from the bond coffers. He put them to death on the spot.” Craig made a shivering motion. Vhalla’s eyes widened as her jaw dropped. “It’s a little crazy. I knew he had a temper, but it takes a special rage to kill two of your own men standing in their boots.”
“Keep your voice down,” Daniel hissed. “Last thing you want is his wrath on us.”
Vhalla stared in a stunned silence. Rat and Mole, Aldrik had killed them. She remembered the face of the Northerner melting off, but found her stomach strangely calm.
When her stomach finally churned it was not over the idea of their deaths but the likely reasoning behind it. Regardless of what people believed about him, Aldrik would not kill without cause; Vhalla wouldn’t believe anything else about him. There was only one reason she could think of.
“Did you really make that wind storm?” Daniel asked, drawing her from her reeling thoughts.
“I-I’m not sure,” she replied, uncertain of the look on his face.
“It was huge!” Daniel’s eyes grew large. She felt uneasy; was he friend or foe?
“You are not supposed to sound excited.” Craig thumped his partner’s head with a fist.
“If she did, that’d make her a Windwalker. You don’t understand what that means.” Daniel rubbed the crown of his head with a grin.
Vhalla moved a little closer to the bars.
“You read too many books.” Craig rolled his eyes.
“And you don’t read any books at all!” Daniel laughed. “You know about Windwalkers?” Vhalla asked timidly.
“Not until recently,” Daniel confessed, turning back to her.
“Not until last night you mean.” Craig shook his head. “He gets assigned here and tries to become an expert on magic overnight.”
“At least I’ve an interest.” Daniel shrugged.
Vhalla stared at them uncertainly. The door at the end of the hallway opened, and her mind was instantly racing with panic at the footsteps. Both guards snapped to attention.
“Senator,” Daniel saluted. Craig stayed silent but mirrored Daniel’s motions. Vhalla glared at Egmun. She could feel every last bruise as his eyes took a leisurely assessment of her body.
“Where are her assigned guards?” Egmun asked.
“We are her assigned guards, sir.” Both Craig and Daniel held their salutes.
Egmun rubbed his temples with a sigh. “I realize that their standards for guards are astoundingly low, but I would have hoped you could read your assignments.”
The two men exchanged a look. “This is our assignment, sir,” Daniel said with confidence.
Vhalla’s mouth curled into a smirk at the confused and enraged expression crossing Egmun’s face.
“Where are Salvis and Wer?” the Senator demanded. Vhalla tried to guess who Mole was.
“They’re dead, sir,” Daniel answered.
Egmun lost his composure to his surprise for a brief second, and Vhalla wanted to cackle.
“Dead?” he repeated.
“Parrot,” Vhalla mumbled under her breath.
“How?” Egmun’s teeth were grinding.
“They were found stealing from the bond payment chest,” Craig jumped in. “Imperial Justice.”
Egmun paused and laughed.
“It would be, wouldn’t it?” His eyes fell on Vhalla and she was happy to have the bars keeping him out. “It would be...” He chuckled and turned. “Her trial starts soon. Make sure she’s on time.” Egmun clicked away down the hall, his emerald robes swishing about him.
Vhalla let out her breath.
“He seems about as pleasant as a rabid weasel in a bag of vipers,” Craig noted dully.
“Craig!” Daniel hissed, but didn’t argue.
With that remark these guards became acceptable. She remembered Prince Baldair mentioning something about the previous guards being Egmun’s men. If that was true, whose men were these? What luck was looking out for her? Vhalla struggled to her feet.
Daniel fumbled with the keys, opening the door. She looked at them expectantly.
“I think you’re supposed to cuff me.” Vhalla held out her wrists, hoping they wrote off the abuse that painted her arms as having been caused by the Northerners.
“Are we?” Daniel asked uncertainly.
“I-I think so?” Craig ran off to grab some shackles hanging on the wall. They were only over her wrists this time.
“It seems rather pointless,” Daniel mused as they started down the hallway. “You’re a sorcerer, right? What’s cuffing you supposed to do?”
“Daniel!” Craig groaned, “Let’s not give the person standing on trial for treason any ideas?”
Vhalla shifted her hands; he had a point. She dared an attempt at her magic. Tears of relief escaped when she felt a weak little flicker around her fingertips. Knowing it was returning reduced her resentment for it not being available to help against Rat and Mole.
Daniel went to grab her arm.
“No!” she frantically jerked away, taking an instantly defensive stance. He jumped back, startled. “I mean, I won’t run. Please, let me go on my own.”
The walk to the courtroom was slow, due to her mad determination to do it without their help. In her mind she shifted it from an issue of paranoia over them potentially harming her to an issue of pride. She wanted to show Egmun that she could walk in there on her own two feet.
They opened the door, and she appeared to be early. The thrones stood empty and only about half the senators had arrived. They looked at her with a whole spectrum of emotions, from horror and anger, to fascination and skepticism. Vhalla walked up to the edge of her cage, standing as tall as she could manage.
As the room began to fill with people, it also began to fill with light. A large, circular, overhead window let in the morning sun. On occasion, the senators walked in with other people whom they sat with at the benches by the door before taking their own seats. Vhalla tried to see if she recognized anyone. It wasn’t until Minister Victor took a seat that she felt a glimmer of hope. He caught her eyes and nodded his head by a fraction.
When the last senator had settled into their seats, the doors to the courtroom were opened and the three male royals strode in. They each wore a white jacket, the Emperor and youngest prince donned in light blue trousers, whereas Aldrik wore black. Clearly, compromises had been made.
Upon the Emperor’s brow sat the flaming crown of the sun, each of its points a spear of golden light rising toward the heavens. Vhalla wondered how it would look on Aldrik. It led to the reminder that if she made it through the trial, she would someday find out. Something deep within her, under the broken and jagged pieces of who she now was, ached at the thought.
“Let this high court be called to order. On trial is Vhalla Yarl for the crimes of recklessness, endangerment, heresy, public destruction, murder, and treason. The prisoner has made a cry of not guilty. We will now hear those who will speak on behalf of the Senate and the prisoner. Let their testimonies be true or may the Mother strike them down with her divine justice.” The Emperor settled back into his chair. The princes sat as well, sparking the rest of the room to sit with them.
Vhalla’s shoulders ached from holding up her shackles, and she decided to sit also. She looked across the room at Aldrik. He wore an emotionless expression today, much like the day before. He didn’t look like a man who had created wanton destruction between official duties. He didn’t look like a man who had killed two guards the night before. He looked almost bored.
He briefly flicked his eyes over to her, but he looked away equally as fast, his mouth pressing into a thin line. Vhalla swallowed. Was he angry with her?
Egmun called the first witness to the stand. It was a Southern woman who had a very average build and plain looks about her. Vhalla tried to determine if she had ever seen this woman before, but she didn’t recall.
“Thank you for coming today,” Egmun started, “I realize this will likely be a great trauma for you to recall, but I will need to ask you questions about what happened two nights ago.” The woman looked uncertainly at the powerful people surrounding her. “Do not be frightened, you are not on trial. Tell the truth before your Emperor and the Mother above, that is all we ask.” The woman nodded. “Tell us, what did you see that night?”
“Uh, well, my, Emperor, princes, lords and ladies.” The woman gave a small curtsey. “As ye know, first there was the explosion and I be tryin to run. Seemed like everyun in the city was tryin to get away.” Vhalla’s heart began to beat faster, remembering her frantic sprint through the masses. “I noticing the prince was runnin.”
“You noticed the prince in the crowd?” Egmun asked.
“I was in such a hurry I dun bow or nothing.” She gave a small curtsey to Aldrik. “No offense, milord.”
“I’m sure the prince took none.”
Vhalla felt offended on Aldrik’s behalf that Egmun would presume to speak for him. If Aldrik was bothered by Egmun’s words, his face betrayed nothing.
The woman nodded quickly. “I noticing because he was running toward the fire, not away. And he was all in black, as he oft is, in fine things, so I knew it was the prince.”
Aldrik shifted in his seat, and Vhalla instantly noticed the movement after he’d been so still. He rested his cheek on his fist and reclined back in his chair, his knees spreading open slightly.
“Senator,” Aldrik drawled, “I already said I was there. As amusing as it is to hear my story repeated through a commoner, it hardly seems a relevant way to spend our time.”
Some of the other senators chuckled uneasily. Egmun only had a cool smile on his face.
“My prince, I was merely attempting to establish that the woman was indeed there and thus her testimony is trustworthy,” Egmun explained. Continuing his line of questioning, he turned to the witness. “Good lady, when you saw the prince, was he alone?” The woman shook her head. “Who was he with?”
“He was followin’ her.” The woman slowly raised a finger in Vhalla’s direction.
“See, my fellow senators. I called this witness to account for the malicious intent and the heresy of the prisoner.” Egmun turned to her and Vhalla frowned. “Why else would a prince be following a plain girl of common birth into the center of danger? Why else would she lead him there if not to kill him?” He looked at the Emperor and senators, raising his hands dramatically.
“Because she had bewitched him with her magic; she placed our prince into a trance that even he did not realize and she brought him into her den to strike him down. For all we know, she plotted with the Northerners.” Vhalla clenched the bars tightly; ignoring the pain the tension in her muscles caused her shoulder. “A magic that bewitches men and steals free will alone should be a crime punishable by death. There is no other—”
“I did no such thing!” Vhalla cried.
“The prisoner will keep quiet!” the Emperor bellowed, slamming his staff down with a large clang.
