by Elise Kova
“And why is that?”
“Because I stopped reading and started doing.” Vhalla smiled faintly at the memory of Aldrik’s words at their first meeting. “I messed up so badly. I didn’t love some friends enough. Sometimes I focused on myself more than others. But if I hadn’t made those mistakes, I wouldn’t be strong enough to look to the future now and not be afraid.”
“A future that involves you being Empress,” her father probed.
Vhalla relented easily. “I should’ve written you more. I should’ve found a way to tell you sooner. I should’ve come home.”
“You were off ending wars.” He laughed his hearty laugh. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, little bird.”
She sighed. “Papa, do you think I will make a good Empress? I’ve done so many horrible things.” Vhalla wanted to confess her sin of unleashing Victor upon the world. But some guilt was too heavy to share with her father.
“The best,” her father said without hesitation. “I have no doubt in you; I know the sort of Empress you will be. But about our young crown prince, I know little more than the rumors from the soldiers during the War of the Crystal Caverns. Tell me the sort of Emperor we will have.”
Vhalla obliged her father. Words spilled from her mouth as though she were the font from which they were created. In telling her father about Aldrik, she had to tell him how she came to meet Aldrik, how she came to know the man that had the reputation for being one of the most shut-off, cold people on the continent.
She didn’t make him out to be perfect. Vhalla knew Aldrik was horribly flawed. But so was she. He was prone to anger and she prone to selfishness. But they strove together to be better, for themselves and for each other.
In it all, she told her father of everything that happened since she had last seen him. Years were summed up in minutes and hours. He frowned at her pain, and praised her for overcoming her trials.
Vhalla and Rex Yarl sat in the breeze until the dawn.
CHAPTER 8
Her chest ached at the smell of the air, at the way the dust settled in the early light, at the sweet scent of wet earth from the morning’s dew. It all pained her. Each sensory input filled her with the heaviness of longing for a world that was long gone.
She’d only crawled back to her place near Aldrik an hour or so ago, but she couldn’t fall asleep. She listened to her Emperor’s slow and steady breathing and let it lull her into a heavy-lidded doze. But she didn’t sleep. She wanted to savor every last moment in her home.
The dawn was insistent, and Vhalla eventually sat up. She glanced at her father, who was thankfully sleeping. He wasn’t a young man any longer, and she’d kept him up until the first light.
On light feet, she tip-toed over to the pile of wood that was kept indoors. Her mother had always performed the ritual of lighting the hearth first thing in the winter months. Now it would fall to her, Vhalla’s heart told her.
“Let me help you with that,” Aldrik whispered in her ear.
Vhalla nearly jumped out of her skin, dropping the small log of wood she held in the process. His hand reached around her and caught it deftly.
“Thank you, my phantom,” she teased coyly, having not heard him so much as stir.
“What’s the cause for the old pet name?” Aldrik hummed, nuzzling the hair by her ear.
“I didn’t realize it had become a pet name,” she breathed in hushed amusement.
“Perhaps it was just my wishful thinking early on.” The corner of Aldrik’s mouth tugged up into a grin. Fire lit in the hearth next to them, summoned by his passing thought.
“Was it?” Vhalla hummed, resting her palms on his chest. “A prince thinking wishful thoughts about a library girl?”
“What magic you’ve woven over me.” Aldrik leaned forward.
Vhalla’s hands twisted in his clothes and pulled him to her. His palm smoothed out her shirt over her hip while the other left a trail of gooseflesh along her neck. The faintest of groans rose to meet his mouth. She had not kissed him enough.
The turmoil, the endless days on the road, the persistent company. It all pushed affections away as trivial. But Vhalla had never felt anything more essential to her wellbeing than his mouth on hers.
“When are you going to wake me up like that, my liege?” Jax quipped, not specifying to whom he spoke, so Vhalla and Aldrik both jumped away from each other.
“By the Mother, Jax, it’s too early,” Aldrik bemoaned.
“It’s too early for all of you,” Elecia echoed venomously.
“We finally agree on something.” Fritz was awake as well.
“We agree on lots of things,” Elecia insisted.
Fritz grinned. “No, we don’t.”
“You’re just doing that on purpose.”
“And you take all the covers.”
And with that, everyone had risen for the day.
Vhalla began preparing an Eastern breakfast—sliced salted pork stuffed into bread left over from the night prior. She may have never cooked much, but she did know how to make some things.
“Rex,” Aldrik began in a tone Vhalla instantly didn’t like. She just knew. “I was thinking that it’s not safe for you to stay here.”
She stilled, leaning against the counter under the window by the hearth.
“The knowledge that Vhalla and I live will spread rapidly. As it does, we will become even more hunted.” He paused to wash down some bread with water. “We will go West, after Hastan. My yet-living family through my mother is in Norin, and my uncle is the Lord of the West. That is where I want you to go also.”
“I see.” Her father rubbed the knuckle of his index finger over his lips in thought.
“You want my father to come with us?”
“Not quite.” Aldrik’s apologetic eyes told her everything before his lips spoke the words.
“Alone?” Vhalla shouldn’t have let the panic slip into her voice. “You’ve seen what’s out there, Aldrik.”
“You know it’s the right decision,” the Emperor insisted.
Vhalla looked away with a sigh. She did, even if she didn’t want to admit it. She knew her father was no one by himself. With her, with Aldrik, he became a target.
“Papa?” She returned from her thoughts, seeking out her father’s opinion on the matter.
“I will be fine, little bird.” Her father crossed over and pulled her in for a tight hug. “Remember, you’re not the only one in this house who’s ridden to war. I’m not that old and rusty.”
Vhalla sighed softly, closing her eyes and resting her face on her father’s shoulder. Having her father home was right. He smelled of the earth under his nails and the soot in the hearth. As long as he remained, there would always be somewhere she could run back to.
If he left, it meant the world had truly changed.
“Take my sword, then. You’ll need a weapon.” Vhalla insisted; there was no point in further argument. Everything had been changing for years, and would continue to change. That was life.
The preparations didn’t take long. Bladders were filled from the well. The remaining bread was split among them with Vhalla insisting her father take the larger of the pieces.
Rex Yarl left first, heading straight for the Western border. He promised her he would only make one stop at a trusted friend’s house before continuing onward. He didn’t bring anything with him that could confirm his identity, in case he was stopped by Inquisitors. That had brought on a debate as to how he would prove his association upon arriving at Norin.
“Aldrik,” Vhalla summoned his attention once they were on the road. “You must think of a new code.”
“What code do you speak of?” he asked, reminding her that he couldn’t read her mind.
“What is most beautiful just before it dies? A rose,” Vhalla repeated what he had told her father to recite for Aldrik’s uncle in Norin. “You told it to me after Baldair’s death.”
“I did.” Ald
rik’s voice tightened some at the memory.
“Victor knew it; it’s why I went with him.”
“He would.” Aldrik muttered a curse under his breath. “I’ve only ever used it with people I trust implicitly.”
“Wait, so that means you trust me, right?” Fritz was over eager about the fact.
Vhalla was pleased to have a convenient change in topic. She’d said her peace, and she knew her Emperor’s mind. It would stew in his brain until Aldrik had worked through a new solution and alternate code phrase. She smiled at Fritz. “I think that’s exactly what it means.”
“Technically, Elecia was the one to pass along the knowledge,” Aldrik remarked dryly.
“And I wouldn’t have done so if I wasn’t confident I was passing it along to someone whom you trusted implicitly.” Elecia’s tone was part defensive, part jest. “Fritz, you are quite welcome in the Ci’Dan fold.”
Fritz laughed nervously. “Not sure if I want that.”
That set Elecia off on a long history of the noble Ci’Dan family. Vhalla knew she should listen—it was Aldrik’s lineage and therefore important to her. But all she found herself focused on was the approaching end of her family’s farmland. Her father not bringing identification meant that everything that declared her family remained here.
Vhalla turned in her saddle, looking at the farmhouse fading in the distance. It was empty and unassuming, waiting for renegades to come ransack it, to steal their few meager things of worth. Or it could be waiting for Victor’s men to come and level it, purely out of spite for her.
She stopped her horse.
“Vhalla?” Aldrik slowed his to a stop a short distance away the moment he noticed she’d fallen from the group.
Vhalla gripped the reins tightly. She wanted to run back and take whatever she could that would remind her of home.
“Is everything all right?” Fritz called.
“Everything’s fine,” Vhalla forced herself to say. Memories were not tied up in things. She turned back to the group. “Let’s go; Hastan is waiting.”
The following days to Hastan passed blissfully uneventful. So much so that it was almost possible to imagine that they were merely five travelers on a trip because they wanted to be. They stayed at inns along the way, keeping their identities a secret. Every night, Vhalla pretended that she was just a woman and Aldrik was just a man, a couple engaged to be wed. She staved off worry with his kisses and quieted the noise in her mind with his blissfully breathy sighs.
The deeper they pushed into the heart of the East, the less they saw of Victor’s hold. People knew what was going on; a few may have even seen one of the abominations Victor had crafted. But for the majority, life still continued with almost relative normalcy.
That normalcy ended the moment they reached the capital of the East. Hastan was the opposite of the towering Southern capital. It was not perched upon a mountaintop, but grew slowly from out of the surrounding plains. All farmland ended and the houses stopped for a long barren stretch before the city began. A no-man’s land that set Hastan apart from the rest of Cyven. Very few people actually lived in Hastan proper; it serving more as an apex for government, commerce, and culture for the people of Cyven.
It was the first time Vhalla had laid eyes on the city.
“Why is the West laying siege to Hastan?” Vhalla scanned the army encampment set up around the whole of Hastan. Crimson pennons bearing the Western phoenix fluttered in the wind.
“I don’t know.” Aldrik frowned.
“I’d venture a guess they might.” Jax pointed at the line of soldiers blocking the road into the city.
“Halt,” one of the soldiers called out to them as they approached. “From where do you hail?”
“Now that’s the question, isn’t it?” Jax sniggered under his breath, glancing at their odd mix.
“We have come to speak with the Senators of Hastan.” Aldrik had put back on his Emperor voice.
“Senator, you mean,” one of the men clarified in a heavy Western accent.
“Senator?” Vhalla looked between them. “There should be four senators from the East.”
“There were, until the Supreme King got his hands on the three that were still in the capital when he usurped the throne.”
“By whose order are you here?” Elecia asked.
“By the order of the only ruler who still holds claim to the throne.” Vhalla glanced at Aldrik from the corners of her eyes as the soldier spoke. “The Lord Ophain Ci’Dan.”
Relief pulled at the corners of the Emperor’s mouth, folding it neatly into a small smile. It exuded confidence and betrayed his ease at the soldier’s omission. Elecia caught Vhalla’s eyes for a conspiratorial look as she pulled them away from Aldrik’s profile. She’d seen Aldrik’s expression as well and seemed to get equal amusement from it.
Aldrik shook his head. “Well, my uncle’s claim is something I cannot argue. Were I not alive.”
The soldier opened his mouth to speak and paused, looking at Aldrik, and then looking at his comrade. They both struggled to put together what Aldrik had said.
“Usually you kneel before your sovereign lord,” Elecia helped them along.
“No, no . . . The nephew of Lord Ophain, of our late princess . . . Prince Aldrik is dead.”
“But there were rumors—”
“You know how people will talk,” one soldier interrupted the other.
“Oh, we’re wasting time.” Elecia sat straighter in her saddle. “Bring us to whomever is running this operation.”
“We will not trouble Lord Sevin for you imposters.”
“Excuse me?” Elecia had gone deathly still. Vhalla expected some form of verbal lashing after being called an imposter. “Who did you say was leading this?”
“The honorable Lord Sevin Ci’Dan.”
Elecia dismounted. She balled one of her hands into a fist, clasping the other hand over it—a motion Vhalla learned long ago was her physical act of opening her Channel. The curly-haired woman stalked over to the unsuspecting guards. The rest of them didn’t move as their Emperor remained still, content to forfeit the soldiers to Elecia like mice to a cat.
“Don’t come any closer or we’ll be forced to engage.” The man drew his sword. “Go on your own way and there needn’t be bloodshed.”
Elecia pressed forward, the man swung for her shoulder and the blade split open Elecia’s shirt, but it stopped hard with a ring against her stone skin. Elecia looked at the offending sword for a long moment, before turning her eyes back to her attacker. The man was startled into silence.
“I’ll tell the Lord Sevin to overlook that, if you do as we ask.” Elecia raised her head with a triumphant grin. “Now, take me to my father.”
Elecia was recognized not more than a few steps off the road. That was all it took. The soldiers leading them were suddenly wanting to make sure they accommodated every little thing the travelers asked for—now that they realized they were in the presence of the Emperor.
A messenger reached the Lord Sevin before they did. He was already running as they approached the heart of the camp, the tent flaps fluttering behind him. Elecia dismounted, crossing to where her father was skidding to a stop.
“My girl,” he uttered in awe.
Vhalla immediately noticed two things about Sevin Ci’Dan. The first was that he didn’t seem much older than Aldrik. The second was that the two could almost be brothers by appearances alone. Aldrik’s mother, Fiera Ci’Dan, Western Princess, was the sister of Lord Ophain Ci’Dan, Sevin’s father. That would make Aldrik and him cousins, so the family resemblance made sense, Vhalla reasoned.
“Fiarum evantes,” Elecia spoke the Western greeting strong and proud.
“Kotun un knox,” her father replied.
They clasped forearms, and the man lowered his forehead to his daughter’s briefly. It was a restrained greeting and, compared to the Eastern embraces Vhalla was used to, she would expec
t it to seem cold. But there was true admiration in their movements, still waters ran deep here. It was different than what she knew, but the love remained.
“My Emperor.” The lord dropped to a knee.
“Sevin,” Aldrik spoke, dismounting. “No need for that. It is good to see you well.”
“I cannot say enough of the same.” The two men clasped forearms as well, an easy reunion between family members. “We heard you were dead.”
“My lady has a habit of cheating death.” Aldrik motioned to Vhalla. “She shared a bit of her luck this time.”
“Your . . . lady?” The man followed Aldrik’s hand to Vhalla.
“Vhalla Yarl,” she announced and dismounted.
“There is much to tell.” Sevin’s eyes looked across their group before turning to his men. “Take their horses, see them rubbed down and the dust off their coats. Bring dried dates, cohi, bread, and whatever perishables are freshest.”
They were ushered into the lord’s tent. It was large enough for a table, cot, and a number of personal affects. However, it was unlike Aldrik’s tent on the march. This had been set up with the intention of not being moved for some time.
“Are you in contact with your father?” Aldrik asked, sitting on one of the large pillows atop the hide that surrounded the low table.
“Regularly.” Sevin sat next to his daughter. “I will send word to him immediately.”
“I would like to include a personal letter.” Aldrik motioned for Vhalla to sit at his right hand, and she did so without hesitation. Fritz and Jax filled in the rest of their small circle. “He may think you’ve gone mad if it’s not in my hand.”
“Of course.” The lord paused as soldiers brought the requested foods. “Going mad is something that he may have suspected already, given the East’s nature.”
Vhalla cleared her throat, unappreciative of the tone of the last statement. “Why are you here?”
Sevin looked to Aldrik, confirming that she did, indeed, have the authority to ask outright. Aldrik stared expectantly.
