by Elise Kova
As they drew near, Vhalla asked Tim what she knew about the ruins. In its shadow, there was something uncomfortable that hung in the air, making Vhalla shift her pack on her shoulders. All Tim knew was that the soldiers called it the ruins of “Old Soricium.” But how old was “old” and why it was left to crumble seemed to be a mystery.
As they passed, Vhalla turned her gaze upward at the structure that must have once stood as tall as the giant trees, like the base of a massive pyramid. She wracked her brain for any information she may have gathered while working in the library. But everything Vhalla had ever read on the North spoke of the “sky cities” built within trees. She remembered nothing that would resemble the building before her. It was beyond Southern construction; the stones fitted together so tightly that it was as though it’d been carved from a single piece.
She resisted the urge to halt her step and study it further. It held that dangerous kind of beauty that promised problems in exchange for the wonders it whispered. Much like a certain prince she knew.
Aldrik, Vhalla tried to push him from her mind. The thought of her prince waiting up for her made her want to scream and tear at her hair in frustration. Would he worry?
Tim appeared relieved when she left later. Vhalla’s company had turned even more somber and silent the longer her thoughts spiraled around the crown prince. As the archer dragged her feet to bed, Vhalla entertained the idea of asking the other woman to get a message to Aldrik. But Tim had been having such a hard time of convincing the guards at the camp palace to take Vhalla’s things that there would be no way they’d carry a message to the crown prince in the dead of night—not without solid reason. Vhalla wondered if Aldrik somehow thought she’d left him.
Vhalla dragged her feet through the night hours. Her second round companion seemed as thrilled as she was about having the late patrol, and Vhalla didn’t even learn the man’s name. Once he’d gotten over his jumpiness at being around the Windwalker, they both marched in wordless misery.
She could maintain her Channel easily, monitoring the wind for any sounds. For an hour or two, Vhalla tried to identify the patch of forest she had run through, but it was hopeless as all the trees appeared identical—a giant black wall separating them from every remaining Northerner who would cut them down.
Her thoughts jumped from one bitter, exhausted emotion into the next. By the time the sun crested the horizon, Vhalla’s limbs were numb and she was in a foul mood. She dragged her feet toward Fritz’s tent, not even bothering with the camp palace.
Fritz and Elecia were both fast asleep when Vhalla pushed her way into the tent. Throwing her pack into a far corner, she collapsed, armor and all, half on top of the tent’s actual occupants. Fritz didn’t do anything more than groan and roll away. Elecia woke with a start and was ready to choke Vhalla in surprise.
“By the Gods, what’s wrong with you?” Elecia groaned, flopping down indignantly when she realized who had half fallen on her.
“Silence.”
“You smell like a dog, and you’re covered in mud.” Elecia sniffed.
It had begun drizzling on and off for the second half of the night. Vhalla had hardly paid it any mind as the air was so thick in the jungle that it always felt damp. But now that she wasn’t moving, she could feel her clothes were soaked and clinging underneath her armor.
“Move,” Vhalla muttered her one word command, sitting. “I need to change.”
Vhalla opened her pack, running her fingers over the leather flap. It felt so good to have it back that she almost forgot the frustrations she’d fostered throughout the evening. The clothes were mostly clean, and they were hers, threadbare holes and all.
She tugged off her armor and peeled the wet tunic off her pale and wrinkled flesh. Elecia raised her eyebrows, glancing at Fritz as Vhalla began to undo the bindings around her breasts. “What?” Vhalla gave Elecia a tired grin. “He’s sleeping, and even if he wasn’t, he’s hardly interested.”
“Even so,” Elecia huffed. “You’re a Duchess of the West; have some modesty.”
“We’re friends, and you’re a woman as well.” Vhalla shrugged and made a show of her changing. The West had their notions of modesty and the South had their ideals of ladyship. Vhalla was Eastern, so she wasn’t constrained by either. More importantly, it annoyed Elecia. And that energized Vhalla’s tired body.
Clipping back into the armor Aldrik had made for her, Vhalla felt more herself than she had in a long time. It wasn’t the same self she’d been the last time she’d worn the clothes. She was different now. Part Serien, part Vhalla, and part a woman who was still emerging.
Elecia waited until Vhalla was done before speaking again, barely audible. “By the way, Aldrik asked me to get this to you.” Elecia held out a small vial. If Vhalla didn’t know better, she’d think it was poison given the nearly murderous glint in the Western woman’s eyes. Vhalla took it hesitantly, raising her eyebrows and waiting for an explanation.
“Elixir of the Moon,” Elecia explained, frowning. Comprehension chased skepticism from Vhalla’s brow. “It’s for—”
“I know what it’s for.” Vhalla grinned at Elecia. The other woman’s cheeks flushed, and Vhalla realized that the noble had yet to have a reason to take the potion herself. Vhalla had only had one real occasion to prior, but she hoped the potion Elecia made tasted better than the sewage she’d forced down before.
It didn’t, and Vhalla grimaced sourly.
“You’ve had it before?” Elecia was too surprised to keep decorum.
“Twice, one man.” Vhalla nodded.
“Low-born Easterners with their affections,” Elecia mumbled. “Does Aldrik know?”
“Of course he does.” She was offended. Did Elecia really think Vhalla wouldn’t tell Aldrik that?
The curly-haired woman shook her head. “Be careful with him, Vhalla.” Elecia glanced over at Fritz to make sure the Southerner was still sleeping. “His heart isn’t as strong as he’d like people to think it is. He’s not actually made of stone and fire.”
Vhalla didn’t know why she was compelled to touch the other woman, but her hand grabbed Elecia’s forearm reassuringly. Aldrik’s cousin met her eyes and searched. “I know he’s not. That’s one of the many reasons why I love him.”
Both Vhalla and Elecia turned as the tent pole vibrated from a few knocks.
“‘Cia,” Jax said softly. “Is Vhalla there?”
“I am.” Vhalla moved to repack her clothes when a glint of silver caught her eye.
Jax stuck his head into the tent, crouching on the outside. “You have someone worried about you.”
“I bet I do,” Vhalla agreed tiredly.
“Where were you?” It suddenly dawned on Elecia that Vhalla wasn’t where the other woman had assumed her to be: Aldrik’s bed.
“I got put on patrol.” Vhalla rolled her eyes, fishing out the dark fabric at the bottom of her pack.
“Who put you on patrol?” Elecia seemed surprised.
“Doesn’t matter.” Vhalla shook her head, deciding it was best to ignore the Western major who seemed to hold a grudge against her for no reason. The man was likely just trying to glean favors from the Emperor. Their leader’s distaste for Vhalla was becoming more apparent by the day, and she had no doubt that a sum of gold may be given to someone who made Vhalla’s life miserable.
She ran her fingers over the silver stitching that affixed a piece of the wing design sewn onto the back of the cloak her doppelganger had worn. This was the last cloak; the other two had been lost when their wearers had fallen.
“Well, he’s called you for breakfast.” Jax didn’t need to explain who he was.
“I’ll come too.” Elecia was quick on Vhalla’s heels as they left the tent.
Fritz groaned and rolled over, sleeping on.
“He’ll likely need another round of potions. And if he was worrying ...” Elecia glanced between Jax and Vhalla, biting on her thumbnail lightly. “Likely something for his head, too.”<
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“It wasn’t too many cups. I already took care of that.” Jax waved the notion away.
Vhalla stared at the rolled up cloak a moment longer, debating if she should put it back or not. It would be a rather bold statement to wear. But there was a deep satisfaction at the idea of the Emperor seeing her wear it. She would don the thing he had used to take her name.
As the cloak unrolled, Elecia let out a soft gasp. Jax’s eyes narrowed. And Vhalla gripped the garment tightly.
A deep gash started from the middle of the silver wing that was emblazoned upon it. It tore through the fabric before being joined by other slashes. It was as though someone had taken a dagger to the cloak, tearing it to ribbons from the chest downward.
“Where did you get that?” Jax asked darkly.
Vhalla stared in dull shock at the strips of black. Had it been Tim? The girl had seemed so friendly. She’d walked and chatted with Vhalla for half the night.
“Someone is trying to send you a message.” Elecia finally gave words to what they all were thinking.
Vhalla absorbed the situation for a moment longer, before throwing the tattered cloak over her armored shoulders. She tied it in the front and let the shredded fabric fall to her ankles. It gave the appearance that she had endured some violent assault. “Good.” Vhalla tightened her hands into fists, letting her Channel cut through her exhaustion. She hadn’t slept more than a few hours the last two nights, and something told her it was going to be another long day. “I have a message of my own to send.”
She started for the camp palace, leaving Elecia and Jax to catch up behind her. Vhalla squinted in the morning sun, steeling herself for whatever the day would bring. It didn’t matter who was threatening her now, Emperor or otherwise; they’d all end up disappointed when the battle was done and she was still standing.
A surprisingly chill wind swept through camp, sending the remnants of the robe fluttering around her like the wings of ravens.
THE CAMP PALACE was empty inside, save for one man. Aldrik turned from where he had been pacing the room, his face crumpling into relief at the sight of her. Vhalla gave him an apologetic look, any verbalization cut short by being pressed into his chest.
She panicked, quickly squirming to step away.
“No one else is up yet,” he whispered into her hair, soothing her worries over his father seeing them.
Vhalla relaxed slightly, watching Jax from around Aldrik’s arm. He stared with interest, but there wasn’t the same shock as all the others who had discovered her and Aldrik’s relationship. There was a sorrowful understanding to his shoulders. It unsettled her more than anyone else’s reaction toward the relationship ever had.
Aldrik pulled away, his palms resting on her shoulders. “What happened?”
“I got stuck on patrol,” Vhalla explained.
“Patrol?” Aldrik frowned. “I would have thought it explicitly clear that you are not to be put on any sort of patrols. It’s too dangerous for you.”
“Hardly,” Vhalla protested the ridiculous notion.
“Vhalla, I don’t want anything happening to you.” A frown tugged at the corners of his lips.
“Aldrik,” she said stubbornly, “I survived the Night of Fire and Wind, an assassination attempt, a fall from the Pass, a run alone through the North.” Vhalla took a step away and pulled his hands from her shoulders. “I’ve killed more people than I have fingers. I’m not the girl you found in the library, and I can protect myself.”
He stared at her in disbelief, but the glimmer in his eyes began to ignite with admiration. Aldrik focused his attention upon her to the point that Vhalla felt herself glow. She smiled bravely up at him, squeezing his hands lightly.
“Well, now that that’s settled.” Elecia cleared her throat uncomfortably. She resonated exasperated disapproval at Vhalla’s hands intertwined with Aldrik’s. “Sit, cousin, and let me see you.”
“I’m quite well—”
“Not yet to my satisfaction.” Elecia rolled her eyes. “Now sit.” Aldrik obliged his cleric, and Elecia was quick with inspecting the crown prince.
“Jax, get us food, would you?” Elecia instructed.
Jax left with a nod.
“What are you wearing?” Aldrik asked, just noticing Vhalla’s attire.
Vhalla adjusted the cloak over her shoulders. She explained the evening with a turn, showing him the slashes down the back. Aldrik’s eyes darkened, and he was immediately back to his determined defense of her.
“Major Schnurr,” Aldrik muttered. “You should stay away from him.”
“But—” Vhalla’s protest was interrupted by Elecia.
The dark-haired woman turned, looking Vhalla up and down. “He’s right,” she corroborated.
That gave Vhalla pause.
“The major is old West,” Elecia explained when Aldrik’s attention had retreated within his own thoughts.
“I’m a lady of the West though,” Vhalla observed.
Elecia snorted. “Look at you, Miss Lady.” A wicked little smirk told Vhalla this was how the Western woman teased.
“He’s the wrong sort of West.” Aldrik had finally returned, whatever he was mentally working through resolved for the moment. “Old West, Vhalla. Not like my uncle.” Her prince regarded her thoughtfully. “Like the sort that still holds the banner of the dead King Jadar and seeks to bring back the days of xenophobia toward the South, the monarchy of the West, enslaving Windwalkers and using them for their own nefarious purposes ...”
Vhalla paused, the cloak suddenly feeling very heavy on her shoulders. The Burning Times, the genocide of the Windwalkers, had been almost one hundred fifty years ago. It was inconceivable to her to think the sentiment still lingered on in anyone.
But Vhalla remembered the Crimson Proclamation that Lord Ophain, Aldrik’s uncle, had given her. He had said it was to heal old wounds and move toward a new future between East and West. Vhalla had thought it a hollow symbolism. She’d never thought it truly had modern day meaning.
Jax returned with food, picked up on the mood in the room, and set his burden silently on the table.
“I’m not afraid,” Vhalla said finally, sitting next to Aldrik. “I’m just one Windwalker, and it’s been a long time.”
Aldrik was about to disagree when Elecia cut him off. “You need to eat more than that.”
“I should think I can decide how much food I can eat.” Aldrik glanced sideways at the young woman.
“Right,” Elecia snorted and grabbed another root vegetable for Aldrik. “Seriously, cousin, why do you bring me if you’re not going to listen?”
“How long have you studied healing arts?” Vhalla asked around the resigned prince.
Elecia paused, thinking.
“All her life.” Jax sat across the table. “
Really?” Vhalla was impressed.
“Natural talent is nothing if you do not hone it.” Elecia never missed an opportunity to brag.
“For her age, Elecia is one of the best healers in the world,” Aldrik boasted.
Vhalla thought Elecia’s face was going to explode from all the pride that lit it up. As annoying as the other woman could be, it was nice to see someone so fond of Aldrik. Considering this, Vhalla began to begrudgingly reevaluate all of Elecia’s actions, viewing them from the place of a protective family member—someone who seemed more like a little sister than a cousin.
“Good morning, all.” Baldair yawned from the entry into the back hall, a disheveled Raylynn at his side.
“You two at it again?” Jax japed. “You must show me sometime how you keep getting the Heartbreaker Prince to invite you to his bed.” Jax leaned away from the table to speak to Raylynn behind Baldair’s back.
To her credit, Raylynn held her composure well. Vhalla was almost envious of how the woman seemed to be able to not care what others thought about her pursuits of pleasure and companionship. “Skills you will never learn.”
“But then how can I get Baldair to invit
e me to his bed?” Jax whined playfully.
“Mother, Jax, it is too early.” Baldair buried his face in his palms.
Infectious laughter suddenly overwhelmed Vhalla.
“What’s wrong with you?” Raylynn turned up her nose at
Vhalla as she reached for one of the steaming root vegetables. “Oh, my dear prince.” Jax sighed dramatically at Aldrik. “I fear the girl has lost her mind.”
“This is crazy,” Vhalla snorted with laughter.
“The only thing crazy is you.” Elecia rolled her eyes.
“I’m eating breakfast with half the royal family, Golden Guard, and a Western noble, at the siege of Soricium,” Vhalla wheezed. “And it feels perfectly normal.”
Aldrik’s deep chuckle harmonized with hers. “Well, I am glad you could find some ease.”
“The most backwards family you could ever meet.” Baldair grinned.
“But a family nonetheless.” Jax nudged Baldair, and the prince chuckled, giving him a nod. Vhalla remembered Daniel and Craig both praising the Golden Guard as being more like kin than soldiers.
Baldair turned to Aldrik, pausing. He took a deep breath, and Vhalla held hers for the younger prince’s words. “Then again, I suppose we always were. We’re hardly what could be called conventional. Do you remember those awful dinners your uncle would take us to when we visited the West, Aldrik?”
Elecia scoffed at the notion.
“Speak for yourself,” Aldrik said haughtily, bumping his side against Elecia’s in silent agreement.
“No, no, there was the one ...” Baldair hummed. “The one when we got into that alley fight.”
“An alley fight?” Vhalla couldn’t imagine the princes brawling like thugs in the back streets.
“Oh, that.” Aldrik’s voice was flat, but not with displeasure. His younger brother grinned wildly. “Ophain thought it’d be good for us because there were boys somewhat near our age.” “When was this?” Elecia interjected.