by Elise Kova
“I think your leaders have spoken, Father.” Aldrik’s voice came from her side. His eyes were nowhere close to seeing her as he challenged his father with an obsidian gaze.
“Do you?” the Emperor said slowly.
“I do.”
The Emperor did not look at her as he next spoke; he was too fixated on trying to stare down his son. “You forget yourself, Aldrik,” the Emperor breathed before continuing louder. “Miss Yarl, thank you for your report. You are excused.”
She blinked, frozen in place. After everything, after all she had done, now he was kicking her out?
“Do you misunderstand an order?” He finally turned to her, and she was startled into action.
“Of course not.” She stepped away from the table, starting for Aldrik’s room.
“I would like this to be a private conversation, Miss Yarl,” the Emperor added.
She paused, something about the bite in his implications sent a shiver up her spine. “I would never—”
“You seem to have a habit of listening on the private conversations of leaders,” he cut her off.
“But that was ...” She blinked. Was he turning his own orders against her? Was he that arrogant to do it before everyone?
“I would rather not take any chances. Jax,” the Emperor said as he turned to the Westerner, “do you have what I entrusted to your care?”
“My lord, I would caution you against this.” Pure disgust fueled Jax’s weak objection.
“You do what I command!” the Emperor nearly shouted.
Jax turned helplessly to Baldair, and then to Aldrik. Neither prince seemed to be able to say anything otherwise. All eyes remained expectantly on the long-haired Westerner.
The major dragged his feet from the room as the Emperor turned to face her. Vhalla had never before seen the expression he wore in that moment. Of all her encounters with the Emperor, this was the one she feared the most. Because there was a morbid and dangerous satisfaction that was beginning to curl his mouth, like that of a wild beast who had found wounded prey.
“MISS YARL,” THE Emperor asked as he stepped away from the table, “do you fully comprehend what you are?” Vhalla kept her mouth shut and let the Emperor continue, all eyes on him. “Allow me to educate you, and my majors. You are a tool, you are a weapon, you are someone I need to take the North, and because you are my most loyal servant, you are more than happy to do so for me.”
“I am, my lord,” she agreed softly. For the first time in a long time, the Emperor’s emotionless stare truly unnerved her.
“Of course you are, child.” The Emperor stood before her, staring down the bridge of his nose. “I do not have you here to think. What a foolish thing that would be. Do not entertain the idea that your powers make you something you are not.”
Vhalla bit her lip to the point of pain, keeping in any protests.
Jax reentered, holding a square wooden box. There was a latch on the front that had been unlocked. Vhalla considered the Western writing upon it uncertainly.
“My lord.” Jax clutched the box with white knuckles. “Reconsider this course of action. You don’t know what—”
“Silence!” Major Schnurr snapped. “You are not one to object to the Emperor.” The major threw an ugly look in Jax’s direction.
“I know quite well what forces I am dealing with.” The Emperor opened the box reverently, admiring its contents. “It seems I must remind everyone that I alone command such forces.”
Vhalla’s eyes widened in panic seeing the box’s contents. She opened her mouth to speak, to grovel if she had to. She wouldn’t let them put her back there, back in a small, dark jail cell. Her mind didn’t comprehend that she was in the North, a world away from where she had been held during her trial following the Night of Fire and Wind.
“I swear to you, my lord, I won’t use my powers without your permission—never against the Empire,” she promised in a wavering voice.
“Oh, Miss Yarl, you were so much more impressive when you did not sound afraid,” the Emperor spoke so softly that no one but the Western major heard.
Emperor Solaris lifted the box’s contents: a large pair of shackles, worn as thick bands around the wrists and connected by a hinge. Inlaid upon the iron were polished stones that Vhalla vaguely recognized as crystals.
Aldrik finally saw as well. “Father, what are those?”
“Where did you get those?” Erion scowled deeply.
“Lord Ophain brought them on my request. Some still seem to remember to follow my orders. They were made in the West to keep creatures like her contained.” The Emperor glared at the lord who spoke out of turn.
“Lord Ophain would not wish for this.” Erion didn’t back down.
“You are too bold, Lord Erion! Everything falls to me, my word is law, and I must ensure the law is obeyed without question,” the Emperor declared, putting the fuming Western lord in his place. “Your hands, Miss Yarl.”
She was going to be sick. All Vhalla could think of was the feeling of iron closing around her wrists once more. They were going to hurt her again, worse than they had before. The Emperor was going to make good on all his promises about the dark future that awaited her.
“Your hands!” His patience ran thin.
Vhalla clenched her palms into fists to keep them from shaking, swallowing the taste of bile. Slowly, she raised her wrists. But where iron was to meet skin, warm fingers closed instead.
Aldrik pulled her away, his fingers tight and his eyes alight. She hadn’t even heard him move. “You will not put those on her,” he uttered threateningly. The prince angled his body halfway between Vhalla and his father.
The Emperor seemed completely taken aback at his son’s outward refusal of his will before their subjects. “Aldrik, you are making a fool of yourself.”
“This is wrong,” the prince insisted. He pulled Vhalla a half step closer, her balled fists resting against his chest. “She has served you dutifully and without question. She has saved my life—more than once—as well as the lives of countless others in your army. And she has likely saved your campaign today. And you would put her in irons?”
Vhalla absorbed the words that practically dripped disgust. There was a fearsome, barely controlled anger to the crown prince’s features. His jaw was set and his mouth pressed into a thin line as he glared at his father. Vhalla could feel the power radiating off of him, and even Jax took a step away.
“My son, I know you are intrigued by the girl’s magic. But this is for the best.” The Emperor’s eyes shone dangerously. “Go back to the table, so that we may move on from this and resume our discussion.”
Aldrik pointedly ignored his father, looking down at Vhalla. His voice audibly softened as he spoke, “Come, Vhalla. Since my father is so insistent on privacy, let me escort you to where you can rest; I am sure you’re tired from your Projections earlier.”
Vhalla nodded, grateful. She didn’t know if Aldrik really believed his words. Or if he saw her shaking like an autumn leaf and knew she needed to be anywhere else to compose herself.
“Aldrik!” the Emperor spoke his son’s name like a curse.
“I know you have been asked this before, but may we have your word that your magic will never be used against the will of the Solaris Empire?” Aldrik’s thumbs grazed gently over her wrists.
“You have my word, my prince,” she said softly, the tenderness in his eyes and manner reassuring her.
“Is her word good enough for you, Majors?” Aldrik turned back to the table.
No one moved. Vhalla was not surprised. He was asking them to openly defy the Emperor for his son. The right or wrong choice no longer mattered.
“It is good enough for me,” Daniel was the first to speak. His eyes met hers with determination, and Vhalla swallowed in relief. Even when she was half in Aldrik’s embrace, Daniel stood by her.
“And me,” Jax seconded. He wore a frown looking at the shackles the Emperor still held.
“I will say it, again:
the Le’Dans stand with the Windwalker and the Lord of the West,” Erion proclaimed proudly.
“I see no reason why we should not trust her.” Vhalla had not expected Major Zerian’s support.
“I have always known Vhalla to be a woman of her word,” Baldair spoke as well.
The other majors seemed to be reassured that the second son was giving a nod or small voice of approval for Aldrik’s position.
“We have moved on from the time when such things were needed.” Aldrik turned back to his father. “Put the relic away so that it may return to the dark corner of the museum from where it came.”
There was a long silence. The Emperor squinted at Aldrik, looked to the table, and then focused only on her. Vhalla held her breath. Aldrik’s fingers were hot on her skin, and she took comfort in the fact that he had not let her go.
“Miss Yarl,” the Emperor addressed only her. “This is no longer about what you are, or are not, able to do. It is no longer about your word on what you will or will not do. What is most imperative is that you respect the will of your Emperor, your true lord.”
Aldrik’s hands clenched over her quivering wrists. She hated the position she stood in. She loathed the Emperor with every fiber of her being. Vhalla took a deep breath and, in spite of it all, she knew what she had to do.
The prince’s attention snapped to her as Vhalla tugged against his fingers. His shock uncurled his grasp, and Vhalla’s wrists slipped away. Recklessness made her bold, and Vhalla wrapped her fingers around his where they hovered in the air.
“My prince, thank you for your trust and faith in me,” she whispered softly. Aldrik’s lips parted to object, but Vhalla shook her head firmly. “I am a loyal subject and must follow the will of my Emperor.”
Her hands released his, and Aldrik made a motion to reclaim them. Vhalla stopped him with a cautionary stare. She had made her choice.
But, contrary to her words and all the words she would ever say publicly about it from then on, it was not a choice made from desire to follow her Emperor. It was inspired by the opposite feelings. With the majors’ support behind her, she would cement herself as the obedient soldier. She would knowingly turn herself into the humble servant, abused by their power-hungry master.
Or that was what she hoped would happen as Vhalla held out her wrists.
Finally having what he wanted, the Emperor placed the cold metal on her skin, snapping the cuffs shut. As soon as they latched, the crystals shone with a faint glow, the connection made in a complete circle. Vhalla gasped and staggered before doubling over and falling to her knees; it was as though someone had kicked her in the gut. No, it was as though someone had carved out her chest entirely.
“Vhalla!” Aldrik was on his knees beside her.
“Don’t touch her,” Jax cautioned. “Her body is now under the influence of the crystals, my prince; it could react poorly with your magic.”
She fought for air. It was as though the cuffs had taken away her ability to breathe or think. Her whole body felt strange, and she reeled from the vertigo.
“Are you all right?” Daniel’s step forward vaguely registered for Vhalla.
“I-I am. It’s ...” she panted, struggling to breathe. It was as though the air itself had vanished. The world was too still. Even her own voice sounded distant and dull. “A shock.”
“I believe they are called Channels, the way a sorcerer draws their power.” The Emperor had a curious glint to his eyes. “These cuffs were engineered by Windwalkers in old Mhashan to be used on other sorcerers to block such passageways.”
On other Windwalkers, Vhalla corrected mentally. Her vision clouded, staring at the shackles. These had been made by slaves, for slaves.
“They work by blocking the source of a sorcerer’s magic and prevent it from being opened for the duration which the cuffs are worn,” the Emperor explained to a generally horrified table. “Given the abilities of a Windwalker, I can agree that removing her sorcery is the best course of action.”
Vhalla hadn’t realized how accustomed she had become to feeling magic. It was a part of her, and its absence made it feel as though it had been torn from her like a limb. Yet she struggled to her feet. Aldrik grabbed her elbow, helping her. She didn’t have the strength to caution him against touching her.
“She has proven her loyalty, Father. Take them off.” Baldair frowned at Vhalla’s empty expression.
“You are dismissed, Miss Yarl.” The Emperor walked back toward the table.
Vhalla stared at her feet, trying to ignore her hands bound together before her. She tried to will herself to move.
“Enough! I have had enough of this!” Aldrik gripped the box Jax was still holding, ripping it from his grasp. It fell loudly as Aldrik cast it aside for a small key contained within. The prince grabbed for her wrists. The crystals flared, reacting to Aldrik’s touch.
Aldrik grit his teeth and placed the key in the center hinge holding the shackles together. The cuffs popped open and fell off her wrists with a metallic thud. His jaw set, Aldrik picked them off the floor and threw them back into the box, snapping it shut.
“Jax,” Aldrik growled. “You take that into the forest, and you bury it somewhere far and deep. And you keep its location secret to your grave.”
Jax gave Aldrik an approving nod, taking advantage of the chaos and departing before any objections could be raised.
“My prince, that is the West’s heritage!” Major Schnurr was horrified.
“It is a heritage of hate.” The prince glowered at the dissenter. “It is a heritage that true Westerners do not take pride in.”
Major Schnurr shook his head, a mixture of anger and disgust on his face. He opened his mouth to speak but quickly thought better of it, storming out the door.
“Vhalla, come.” Aldrik took her hand in his.
“Son, you will not—” the Emperor began, his composure finally beginning to break under the public insolence, under not having his power play work out as planned.
“Father, I have found your behavior toward Lady Yarl—our guest, your loyal subject, the person whom you have brought here to help with your victory—appalling. You have tested her time and again, where each test she passes more stunningly than the last.” Aldrik pointed at his father. “No more. I will not let you harm her again—or demand for her to harm herself—for your amusement or to abate your insecurity. I understand the pressures of war have misplaced your better judgment. Hopefully you quickly realize the same, for I have no interest in any further discussion until a much deserved apology has been given.”
All stared at the prince in shock, including Vhalla. Aldrik was oblivious to it, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and ushering her quickly to the back hall. Vhalla expected to hear the Emperor stomping behind them, but no footsteps came. It all disappeared as Aldrik led her into the one place they had made their haven, slamming his door shut.
“I cannot believe he-he would—by the Mother,” Aldrik seethed. “Crystals, he brought crystals here? He’s a mad man! I cannot believe my uncle would produce them.”
“I’m sure Lord Ophain didn’t have a choice,” Vhalla pointed out what she hoped was true.
Aldrik continued, ignoring her. “How dare he use the chains the West used to treat Windwalkers like cattle—to use them, to kill them—on you.”
Around his hands, fire sparked to a blaze. Vhalla gripped his fist with both of hers, the flames licking around her fingers. “Don’t burn anything.”
His rage on her behalf was as comforting as it was fearsome. But she knew more anger would not solve the problems that needed solving. It was anger like this that drove the prince to dark places. She needed him to see that; she needed to keep him from it. Aldrik’s rage softened the moment his eyes met hers.
“Vhalla! Gods, Vhalla.” His hands went to her face, the fire extinguished. “How dare he ... How could you? You should not have let him.”
“By doing so, I think it made him appear worse,” she explained.
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Aldrik gave a raspy laugh. “You really thought that way?”
“Was I right?” Vhalla searched his stunned expression.
“You certainly were.” Aldrik brought his lips to her forehead, and she closed her eyes.
“You shouldn’t have, Aldrik.” Vhalla thought of his hands on her as she was under the effects of crystals, of Jax’s warning. She thought of his insolence before his father.
“No. Do not tell me that,” he demanded firmly. “That was entirely the right thing to do. I’m tired of standing by while my father treats you as he does. Appearances be damned.”
A stomping grew louder from down the hall. Vhalla inhaled sharply, and Aldrik pulled her tightly against him. Every horrible thing that could happen raced through her head: soldiers coming to take her from him, to put her away, to put her back in those awful chains. They shredded what strength she’d mustered. The door shook as the person banged on it.
“Brother, get back here before we have a civil war on our hands.” Baldair slammed his fist against the door again. Aldrik took a deep breath, his face buried in her hair. “I know what Father did was wrong,” Baldair lowered his voice. “It was foul really. But are you honestly surprised? Vhalla shamed him in front of his leaders. He was losing his power and needed to prove that he still had control. Father is nothing but a prideful man—”
Aldrik left her side to throw open the door.
“So I am to allow his actions to be forgiven for his tender pride?” Aldrik scowled.
“The Western majors are up in arms that he would use the cuffs. That it will hurt the West’s trade relations—”
“As they should be!” Aldrik’s anger was back, and it was being taken out on his brother. “She is an inspiration for the East, a beacon of hope, a new era, and he would send the message that he would treat Windwalkers as they were treated more than a century ago, hunt them, chain them, kill them. He outright called her a tool! Not even a person to him but a thing. I do not blame the Western leaders for not wanting anyone to think that the West is still in bed with such archaic thinking—as my uncle supplied the means!”