by Elise Kova
“Your title was stripped.”
And Vhalla still didn’t know why.
“And it doesn’t stop the Western Court from reminding me of such by using it ironically.” Jax’s voice had changed.
“You know how court is.” Elecia’s voice indicated indifference, but there was a sorrowful and sincere echo that followed her words. “Some of them still take your side.”
“Who knows why,” Jax murmured.
“I still do.”
Fritz opened the door, distracting Vhalla from whatever was said next. She quickly pushed her way into the Southern man’s room before he said anything that Elecia would hear. The Western woman would never let Vhalla listen in on a private conversation. Rightfully so, Vhalla admitted to herself. But she wanted to know about Jax; she needed to know why he was attached to the crown. Why he was practically enslaved and yet so revered by his masters.
“Everything all right?”
These thoughts were shelved for another time the second Fritz asked his question. Vhalla wrapped her arms around his waist, holding her Southerner tightly. He still smelled of battle—sweat and the metallic tang of blood. But his arms wrapped around her without hesitation, without question. He held her silently as Vhalla took a breath and just let the world move without her for a brief moment.
“I’m glad you’re all right, Fritz.”
“Me too,” he laughed lightly.
“Why are you here?” The question escaped her as suddenly as she thought of it.
“I told you when we left my home: Larel would haunt me if I let you go alone.”
“That’s not good enough.” Vhalla shook her head.
“It’s not?”
“No, you’re still fighting. You’re at war on my behalf. Why are you doing it?”
“Silly Vhal.” Fritz sighed gently, and the sound transformed into a smile. “You were at my house, you met my sisters.”
Escaping the chaos of the Charem family home didn’t seem like a good enough reason either.
“They all have their place in the world. They each know who they will be. Cass is going to inherit the home. Reona will be an amazing wife and mother. Nia will be a chef or baker or something. They all have something. I never did.”
“You had your sorcery,” Vhalla pointed out.
“And it took me away from them.” Fritz had never seemed sorrowful about his magic before. His family was so accepting of it. “I went to the Tower and expected to find my place. And I’m still figuring that out. Grahm, Larel, you, you all know what you want. I want to know that, too. I want purpose.”
Vhalla clutched her friend’s hands tightly. “I don’t really know what I want.”
“Yes, you do.” Fritz actually laughed out loud at the notion. “There was a time when you didn’t, but you found it. Now I’m trying to find it, too.”
“Well . . .” Vhalla sat with Fritz on his bed. “What do you want to be? What do you want to do?”
Talking things through with Fritz was therapeutic. She gave him advice she needed to heed herself. It wasn’t any wonder why her messy-haired friend had stayed around for so long. They were so similar in all the ways they needed.
When Vhalla finally returned to her room, she saw the low glow of a fire coming from the door to Aldrik’s quarters. Her feet dragged forward, compelled by her heart. Aldrik worked dutifully at a small table by the fire, scribbling across parchment.
“Letters?” she asked.
“For my uncle and other Western lords,” Aldrik responded without turning.
Vhalla pulled off her boots, leaving them at the door. On light feet, she padded over to the hunched Emperor. Aldrik didn’t move as she slipped her arms around his shoulders.
“Ask for reinforcements, my love,” she requested.
“An order from the Empress?” His quill paused, but when it picked up writing once more, Vhalla saw he worked in her request.
“If the Emperor permits it.”
“Judging from how you handled affairs during that attack, I have little to worry about permitting,” Aldrik hummed, a relaxed and pleased sound, like the purr of a cat.
“I’m still scared,” she confessed. “Of being Empress.”
“Really?” He sounded genuinely surprised. “It doesn’t show.”
“I’ve just been pretending when I could think of nothing else to do.”
“Then you are more ready than you thought.”
“I’m afraid of losing my friends, of making the wrong decision,” Vhalla admitted. The load was easier to bear when she lightened it with words. “I crave peace, and I fear that I am a creature whose fate is written in bloodshed.”
“More untrue words have never been spoken.” Aldrik rested his quill on the table to look at her. “You spent eighteen years in peace. If anything, it is I who have placed this mantle of death upon you.”
Vhalla shook her head, but he continued before she could object verbally.
“I know what I have asked of you. I was born into it, I was raised for it. Now I expect you to accomplish acts and diplomacy, tasks that were groomed into me for years.” Aldrik pulled her down into his lap, running his hand over her cheek. “But hear me, I say born into, not born for. I may have the advantage of education, but you are as naturally fit to rule as I am, perhaps more so.”
She held her forehead against his, rubbing the tips of their noses together lightly. “Teach me?”
“Always.”
He taught her quite a few new things that night, ones that normally weren’t offered in Empress training. And, afterward, with heaving chests and sweat-dotted bodies, he spent well over an hour telling her the long histories he knew of the kings in the South and West. Aldrik made it a point to detail every failure and what led them to recovery or demise. He highlighted the stories he’d always admired and why, which were usually the tales that encompassed salvation through the admission of one’s shortcomings.
He teased her the first time her eyes fluttered closed. But the Emperor didn’t keep his lady awake. He spoke softly until exhaustion finally claimed her, holding her to him.
The next day, he took charge again. Before they even emerged from their respective rooms, he detailed every plan he had for the day, what he hoped to accomplish, and how he planned to go about doing it. He asked her to watch and learn.
As they met with the senator to discuss additional fortification of the East, it was finally like seeing the man emerge from behind the curtain. Aldrik deftly navigated his goals, accomplishing new plans and securing intangible reassurances of loyalty to Solaris. Knowing his approaches, the silver-tongued ruler was reduced to a parlor magician, and Vhalla knew his every sleight of hand.
He punctuated every decision with a long-term solution that would ensure the East remained bound to his leadership. When Aldrik brought up replacement senators, he did so in such a way that demanded the senator to naturally ask who he thought they should be. Vhalla had no doubt that the names he spouted weren’t off the top of his head, but a planned list of people who had some debt owed or had already passed some prior test of loyalty.
After the meeting, they set out to take lunch with the merchants of Hastan. On the way, he quizzed her on his wording and methodology. He asked her for her thoughts on why he chose one thing over another, how he had turned the situation. He demanded she find imperfections and make suggestions for improvements. Looking for his shortcomings only made Vhalla study the whole affair more closely.
Just before they arrived at the host’s modest manor, he shifted the conversation.
“I want you to lead this.”
“Lead how?” Vhalla was uncertain in what capacity he meant.
“These are your people.” He paused to lovingly brush some hair away from either side of her face. “I have an Eastern betrothed. Why would I not use it to my advantage?”
“I see.” She gave him a conspiratorial grin.
“Will you be my cle
ver Eastern bride?”
“I suppose, if my Emperor demands it,” Vhalla sighed dramatically.
The levity calmed her nerves as they entered. By the time Vhalla sat at the dining table, she was relaxed. These were her people. And while Vhalla had little experience negotiating with merchants beyond the grocers and bakers in Leoul, she understood their wants and needs just as well as any Easterner could.
She indulged their questions of her childhood. Vhalla answered questions about her father’s field rotation and method for using the least amount of water possible. Tales of the Windwalker had spread throughout the East, and they were hungry for knowledge of the woman behind the stories.
The Emperor and Vhalla engaged in a verbal waltz, spinning in and out. Aldrik would steer the conversation to official business, and Vhalla would take the lead. When a lord bristled at Aldrik’s suggestion, Vhalla would act as a balm and drum up fond memories of Eastern festivals. If one of the ladies was put off by Aldrik’s determination, Vhalla took her hand with a smile and shared some of her bread in a gesture of good faith.
Following lunch, they proceeded out to the Western camp. It was still in disarray from the battle, and Vhalla wondered what she could do to help both them and the citizens of Hastan. There weren’t enough resources to go around.
The senator was waiting with Lord Sevin in his tent.
“Apologies for the delay,” Aldrik said with minimal sincerity. The Emperor could keep people waiting, he had told her. The world waited on them.
“No need to apologize, my lord.” The senator gave a small bow of her head in respect to each of them. “And lady.”
“Sevin, do you have final counts on men and supplies?”
“I do.” The Western Lord produced some papers.
“Excellent.” Aldrik began to read with Vhalla reading over his shoulder.
“Most of the supplies made it through the battle, but we sustained heavier casualties than expected,” the lord summarized.
“We have already requested further support from the West.” Aldrik turned his attention away from the parchment.
“Reinforcements may be slow,” Vhalla mused aloud. “And the East should learn how to defend itself.”
“What are you thinking, Lady Vhalla?” the senator asked.
“We should set up a system to spread the word that we need recruits. Five riders carry a message to the five nearest towns. There, they command five more riders to carry the word outward to five more towns.”
“And create a web across Cyven,” the senator finished Vhalla’s logic. “It’s not a bad suggestion.”
“It would depend on Lord Sevin’s men being capable of training them.” Vhalla looked to the Western lord. “They will be farmers and stable boys, as green as they come.”
“We can train them,” Sevin affirmed with a nod. “So long as they’re willing to be trained.”
“Once trained, they can help defend Hastan and build the army here for mobilization against the South when we are ready to attack.” Vhalla finally turned to Aldrik.
“I would like to see my betrothed’s suggestion made reality,” the Emperor ordered.
Vhalla remained quiet for the second half of the meeting, once more watching Aldrik work and learning everything she could. She fully expected to be questioned on his methods afterward, and she was proved correct.
On the way back to the government building, Aldrik inquired on his approach and offered her both criticism and praise. There were ample areas for improvement that quickly became apparent, but Aldrik was good to sandwich praise around them. Some were as simple as pointing out that she needed to improve her posture. Others had layers of nuances that Vhalla still didn’t completely understand as they entered the main building.
“And, above all other things,” Aldrik continued, “you must remember that you are their Empress.”
“But how can I relate to them if I am distanced?”
“Practice, to a certain extent. But it’s difficult,” he confessed. “It is more important for them to see you as their sovereign rather than their friend. That they know you are above them.”
Vhalla nodded, deep in thought.
“You are unpleased.” He smiled tiredly.
“You could tell?”
“I don’t need the Bond to see it. I know you well enough.”
Vhalla shook her head. There was a time where she worried that their affections were entirely a product of the Bond. How foolish that seemed now.
“Can I be both? Their leader and their friend?”
“To some, yes.” Aldrik nodded. “But not to the masses.”
“I suppose it’s a good thing I like books more than most people,” Vhalla muttered.
“A superb ruler in the making, indeed.” Aldrik gave her a knowing smile, and Vhalla relaxed further.
CHAPTER 11
Vhalla woke two mornings later with a sickness in her stomach.
Aldrik briefly insisted upon fetching Elecia, but Vhalla refused. There wasn’t a clerical solution to nervousness, and she knew of no salves that cured stress. The medicine she needed was bound between leather and delivered with silence. She’d been avoiding asking because their days were so filled with preparations to leave for Norin in another two mornings’ time. When she finally broached the subject with her husband-to-be, he made her feel silly for even being concerned about leaving him to deal with the responsibilities alone.
The city’s records room was dusty and stagnant. It hadn’t been aired out in quite some time, and she went into a coughing fit with the first heavy scroll she pulled from the shelf. It wasn’t her first choice, but Hastan didn’t boast an impressive library, and she knew she’d be alone here. All she wanted was a quiet space and something to read.
Hastan’s governmental logs weren’t exactly thrilling material, but Vhalla had a new appreciation for the eloquence of politics and the importance of maturity in governance that made the reading more engaging than previous experiences.
Two scrolls in, Jax poked his head in and quipped, “Oh, Empress.”
“I’m not the Empress yet.” She adjusted the parchment before her.
“Close enough.” He grinned and let himself in the rest of the way. Jax leaned against the door as he shut it. “Our Emperor has asked me to check on you and see if you need anything.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t send Elecia,” Vhalla mumbled.
“He tried to.” Jax laughed at her correct assumption. “Elecia said if you were not well you were ‘quite capable’ of seeking her out on your own.”
“The woman has sense.” Vhalla gained yet another reason to appreciate Aldrik’s cousin.
“That I cannot argue.”
Jax’s unfiltered praise reminded Vhalla of the conversation she previously overheard. While she wouldn’t dare bring up the details, there was one thing that still nagged at her. Vhalla turned away from the scroll, studying Jax’s dark Western eyes. She tried to forage through their blackness, hoping they would somehow reveal the secret everyone had been so content to allude to but never speak of.
“Why are you owned by the crown?”
Panic flashed across his face. She’d caught him off-guard, and the defensive walls quickly rose in response. Vhalla pressed her lips together and fought a sad smile. She’d been with Aldrik now for so long that she knew what it looked like when a man was trying to smother the truth behind a mental defense.
“That’s not a story you want to hear.” He laughed suddenly. “Trust me.”
“That’s not for you to decide.” Vhalla leaned back in her chair and motioned to the only other seat in the room across from her. “Sit and tell me.”
“I do not think—”
“It’s an order, Jax.” She tried to make the words as gentle as possible, but no amount of tenderness could remove the hurt in his eyes. She’d crossed a line commanding him, a line she might not be able to erase.
He fell heavil
y into the chair, starting his tale with hasty resentment. “I was born into a noble family in the West. We weren’t important, not like the Le’Dans or Ci’Dans, but my family had pride and a few generations of nobility. I was the eldest and the only son, my sisters just a few years younger.”
“So you were set to inherit the estate.” Vhalla shifted in her chair and leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table. For the first time, she was getting a glimpse of the man underneath the madness.
“I would have,” Jax affirmed. “It was all set, and I was quite the little lord. The only thing that remained was finding a suitable match with another noble.”
“An arranged marriage,” she pieced together. It brought back memories of the last arranged marriage she had experienced: Aldrik’s. It tugged at the corners of her lips, pulling them into a frown at the thought.
“I loved her.” Jax wiped the expression from her face with three words, and Vhalla listened in surprise. “I loved her like the Father loves the Mother. I loved her more than the sun, more than life itself. I would have waited a thousand years had she needed it to be ready to accept my hand.”
“Did she need it?” Vhalla tried to weed out the imperfection in his currently glowing tale.
“No, the feelings were mutual.” Jax looked at nothing for a long moment. Then a shift. Vhalla wasn’t sure if she imagined it. But his expression clicked into something different. “Or rather, I thought they were . . .
“We would spend days on end together. Every chance we had we would see each other, be with each other. We wanted nothing more than to be around each other just breathing each other’s air. Everything was going to be so perfect, a love arranged but that was also meant to be.”
There was an uneasy shroud hovering over his words. He rattled them off his tongue with nearly rehearsed precision. As though it was no longer Jax speaking, and he was possessed by the shroud of someone else, someone who had not actually endured what he was about to tell her.
“Until, one day, I decided I would surprise her. I was studying at the Academia of Arcane Arts. Or maybe I was instructing a class. I don’t remember why . . . maybe they needed my assistance.” He shook his head. “Either way, I was early home. Earlier than anyone expected.
