by Elise Kova
“Getting in some practice,” Daniel spoke to Grun, but he paid attention to Vhalla, helping her to her feet.
“With that?” Grun pointed at her.
“The lady graciously agreed to give me some experience against a sorcerer,” Daniel bristled.
No one spoke; it was eerily quiet as every onlooker seemed to hold their breath. All seemed equally fearful of what the pieces would look like if the tension broke between the two men, Vhalla included.
“I should go, I think.”
“Vhalla, no—” Daniel turned quickly.
“No, I should. Larel’s likely setting up the tent without me.” Vhalla smiled in an attempt to sell the poor excuse.
“I want to practice against a sorcerer,” Grun said before Vhalla could walk away from the makeshift ring. “Spar with me.”
Vhalla regarded him cautiously. She didn’t think for a minute he’d suddenly accepted her. But maybe she could show him she wasn’t dangerous, that she meant him no harm. “Very well,” she said before Daniel could object.
“Vhalla, you don’t have to.” The Eastern man took a step closer to her, dropping his voice. “Don’t feel pressured into this.”
“I don’t.” She shook her head, whispering, “Maybe it’ll be good to show him.”
“Well ...”
“Are you two done whispering your sweet nothings?” Grun asked dryly, drawing his sword opposite Vhalla.
Daniel stepped away quickly, his movements jerky and nervous. Was it the heat of the desert or was there a blush across his cheeks? Daniel lifted his palm; their mark to begin sparring would be when he lowered it.
She noticed how his dark brown hair moved as his hand cut through the air, his hazel eyes darting toward hers.
Distracted, Vhalla didn’t hear Grun move until he was upon her. She turned back at the last second, making a weak attempt to dodge. He smashed the pommel of his blade against her cheek in a back-handed swing, sending Vhalla flying into the sand.
“Grun!” Daniel and Craig both called.
“Just a spar.” The mountain of a man laughed. “If she wants to forfeit, she can.”
Vhalla coughed blood onto the sand. Her lip was split, and her face already felt swollen. She blinked away stars, trying to get her feet back under her.
Grun’s boot connected with her side, echoing against her plate as he kicked her. Vhalla rolled across the sand, the wind knocked from her. She curled in on herself, phantom blows attacking her body. Gasping, she tried to push the memories of Rat and Mole’s assault out of her mind.
“Really, this is it?” Grun laughed, goading some of the onlookers into cheers. “This is the fearsome Windwalker?”
“Vhalla, forfeit.” Daniel ran over to her side.
“Don’t touch me,” she hissed, holding out a palm. Something in her eyes froze Daniel in place as Vhalla pushed herself to her feet. Vhalla turned to Grun, feeling the wind at her back. Her heart began to race just by looking at him.
“Oh, still have some fight in you?” Grun chuckled as Vhalla stood. “Well, at least our Black Legion makes good punching bags. We should thank the Fire Lord for the only thing he’s ever given us.”
“Take it back.” Vhalla could barely hear herself over the racing heartbeat in her ears.
“Or wha—” Grun didn’t finish his sentence as Vhalla’s fist met the side of his face.
The man was built like a rock, and Vhalla could feel the bones in her arm compress through her shoulder as she punched his cheek. Her hand stung but she ignored it, quickly landing from her leaping punch and darting back.
Grun let out a cry of rage and swung his sword at her.
“Why do you hate me? Why do you hate us?” she cried, her body deftly dodging the swings of his blade.
“Because you’re abominations!” Grun shouted, attempting to grab her plate.
Vhalla was too fast and batted his hand out of the way, spinning around his side. “We are your comrades! We don’t want to fight you!”
“Says the woman who killed countless people on the Night of Fire and Wind!” Grun raised his blade over her head and brought it down on Vhalla’s shoulder. The clang of metal on metal was sharp and set her ear to ringing as she crumpled.
They thought she was a murderer.
“I didn’t kill them,” Vhalla whispered.
“Liar!” Grun raised his blade again. “They should’ve killed you that night!” The goliath swung, straight for her head.
Vhalla stared at the blade as the world devolved into chaos at Grun’s clearly murderous intentions. This was not a spar; the man intended it to be an execution.
Vhalla raised her hand and the wind ripped Grun’s blade from his fingers, sending it far off into the sand in the distance. She swept her palm in front of her body and a secondary gust knocked Grun on his side. As Vhalla stood, she pressed her hand downward, holding the man to the ground despite his struggles.
“I am not your enemy,” she whispered in a disturbingly calm voice. “So I cannot die this day. I will not die until you see the truth.”
“What’s going on here?” a voice bellowed. Prince Baldair stomped through the crowd that had gathered, Raylynn at his side.
Vhalla relaxed her hand, allowing Grun to spring to his feet.
“She attacked me!” The man made his accusation to the prince.
“Liar!” Daniel shouted. “My prince, Vhalla was gracious enough to spar, and Grun took advantage of the situation. He made an attempt on her life.”
Grun shot the Eastern lord daggers with his eyes. “It was just a spar,” Grun countered with an annoyingly loud laugh. “She was the one who threw the first punch; look at my face.”
Grun indeed had a bruise forming where Vhalla had hit him, but she could lick her lips and taste blood.
“She’s a monster, and if she could’ve she would’ve killed me—it was self-defense,” Grun continued.
Vhalla saw shades of the Senate as a few soldiers began to nod.
“That’s not true!” Daniel drew his blade, his voice coarse. “Continue to lie and I will cut out your tongue.”
“Defend your freak.” Grun reached for his own sword, forgetting Vhalla had disarmed him completely.
“Enough!” Prince Baldair yelled. The men fumed but were silenced. The prince turned to Vhalla. “Do you have anything to say on your behalf ?”
Vhalla met the prince’s endless blue eyes, considering his question. Her side throbbed where Grun had kicked it, where Rat and Mole had kicked it. She clenched her fists, letting go of her magical Channel—and with it her fight. “No.”
“No?” The prince was startled.
“I’ve learned the Empire,” Vhalla turned, staring down the soldiers, “the people, have no interest in the truth.” Vhalla met Prince Baldair’s eyes coldly. “I am property of the crown, and property doesn’t talk back.”
The spite surprised even her, and everyone stood in a stunned silence. It was the first time she’d said it in a public place, the first time she’d assumed her new identity. They would think what they would about her—words would not change her reality. So why fight that battle? She had enough to worry about just surviving.
“Come with me, sorcerer.” The prince had clearly taken offense with her directness. “Grun, Daniel, I’ll deal with you later.”
“Baldair—” Daniel took a half step between Vhalla and the prince.
“Silence, soldier!”
Vhalla had never seen Prince Baldair so harsh. Daniel looked at her hopelessly as she followed the prince into camp. She knew she should feel guilty, but she didn’t. And her mood soured up until the point that Prince Baldair ushered her into his tent.
His tent was completely unlike Aldrik’s on the inside. He had an actual table and three chairs positioned around it. A single brazier made of bronze hung from the center of the tent and lit the room. Prince Baldair’s bed was larger—for reasons Vhalla could guess, given his reputation with women—and it appeared to be an actual matt
ress. She wondered how difficult it was for the horses to carry it all.
The prince closed the tent flap behind him and did a short circle around her, assessing Vhalla from head to toe. “Sit.” He motioned to a chair. “Or perhaps you’d rather I threw some pillows on the floor?”
Vhalla’s eyes widened, hearing the meaning between his words.
“You look uncomfortable.” The prince paused, his eyes reading hers. “I would think you’d be more at ease in a prince’s tent. Or is it just my brother’s?”
“What do you want?” she demanded.
“Today, I saw him in you.” Baldair squinted his eyes, as if he was trying to imagine Aldrik imposed atop her. “The way you moved, the way you were rushed by the fight. Tell me, is that the only way he’s been in you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Vhalla hissed.
“I can’t recall the last time I saw Aldrik with a woman, at least one who wasn’t bought or given to him by our father as an attempt at finding a future Empress.” Baldair took a step closer to her. She didn’t know this prince. There was something turning him sour. He grimaced as he spoke, as if instantly regretting his words.
“Not another word,” Vhalla cautioned.
“Oh? Did you think he was some paragon of purity? I’ve seen him kill girls younger than you. I’ve seen him wind women up to crawl to his bed.” Prince Baldair frowned.
The tension in her muscles became so great that Vhalla feared it would snap her bones. “Speak about him again and I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” Prince Baldair’s expression clashed darkly with his usually handsome exterior. “Get yourself together, Vhalla. Have you forgotten the terms the Senate gave you? Have you considered that your actions may force his hand?”
Horror stilled her, and her hands relaxed. He wouldn’t. “What do you want from me?” she whispered.
The prince leaned toward her to whisper in her ear. “Whatever you have with him, end it now.” His voice was quiet and it sounded sincere and pained. “If not for your sake, then for his.”
Vhalla’s chest tightened, but she didn’t have an opportunity to ask him what he meant. The rumble of a single horse and the whinny of an abrupt halt could be heard from outside the tent.
Prince Baldair straightened as the tent flap was thrown open. Vhalla turned and a wave of relief crashed over her as she saw the dark figure step inside.
“Ah, brother.” Prince Baldair rested his palms on his hips. “We were just talking about you.”
ALDRIK’S EYES FLICKED from Vhalla to his brother. Vhalla met his gaze and pleaded with him silently to get her out of there as fast as possible. She saw him collect his emotions as he folded his hands behind his back.
“What is going on here?” His voice held a deathly stillness.
“She was caught in a brawl.” Prince Baldair glanced at Vhalla. “I was administering discipline.”
Vhalla’s head snapped back to the younger prince with a glare. Is that what he called it?
“I believe discipline falls to the subordinate’s leader.” She could hear the stress under Aldrik’s cool voice.
“Normally, yes,” Prince Baldair agreed. “But I think her leader is rather biased, don’t you?”
“Baldair ...” Aldrik didn’t even try to hide the threat in the depths of his voice.
“I think you’re confusing the woman, Aldrik. We both know how a man’s needs must be met, but she’s too young for you and your games.” Prince Baldair crossed his arms over his chest.
Vhalla refrained from pointing out that she wasn’t that much younger than Baldair himself.
“What is this?” Aldrik crossed over to his brother, stopping just short to stare his brother down. “Misplaced jealousy?” Aldrik sneered. “That a woman may prefer me over you?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” the blue-eyed prince scoffed. Prince Baldair drew his height and still came up a hand shorter than his brother. “This isn’t about me or you, this is about her.” His eyes shifted to Vhalla. “She was kind, shy, and sweet the first time I met her. Less than a year with you and look at what you’ve done to her Aldrik. She’s in black—”
“Baldair—” Aldrik snarled.
“—she’s fighting and liking it,” the younger prince continued.
“Baldair!” Aldrik’s hand balled into a fist.
“She has blood on her hands!” Prince Baldair’s face jerked back to Aldrik’s. “Do you have the audacity not to feel guilty?”
Aldrik’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
The younger prince shook his head. “At least you do.” He turned back to her with a sorrowful expression. “Vhalla, you don’t need him to shine. I tried to tell you that before the gala. Especially now, you don’t have to force yourself to stomach his presence after what he—”
Vhalla had heard enough, she briskly took the three steps between them, raised her hand and brought her open palm hard across the younger prince’s face.
Vhalla had never slapped anyone before. Perhaps Prince Baldair was right that she had changed significantly these past few months. If it was a change, she decided it was for the better as she felt a deep satisfaction course through her.
His hand went up to the red mark on his cheek, and he stared at her wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Even Aldrik was shocked into a gaping silence.
“Enough!” Vhalla fumbled over her words, her emotions running high. “Don’t you ever make him feel, or suggest that he should, feel guilty for me or on my behalf.” She glared at the golden prince. “And don’t pretend like you somehow know, know how ...” Vhalla felt her insides twist, the currents in her mind cloud. “How I, or, how he ... How we ...” She heard her voice crack, she didn’t want to confront this here.
Prince Baldair’s face fell.
Aldrik spared a glare for his brother before turning his back on him to face Vhalla. He placed one hand on her shoulder, the other gingerly atop her wounded cheek. Aldrik tilted her face to his, and she met his eyes shakily.
“Vhalla,” he whispered, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “It’s all right, that’s enough.” She relaxed under the familiar warmth of his gaze, and Aldrik gave her a small smile that was weakly returned.
“It’s true, isn’t it?” Prince Baldair murmured.
Aldrik’s hand dropped from her face, but his left remained on her shoulder as he turned to assess his brother.
The younger prince stared at the scene before him with wide eyes. “You really do care for her.”
She felt Aldrik tense at the statement, but he made no motion to move away; if anything, his hand tightened slightly. Vhalla’s heart beat hard. She desperately wanted to leave, to get away as fast as possible. As much as she wanted to hear the bare truth of the answer to that accusation, she didn’t want it to be like this.
“And you ...” Prince Baldair stared at her.
Vhalla mustered the last of her courage to look at him unfaltering. She succeeded well enough—the prince was the first to look away with a shake of his head. He walked heavily over to a chair and slumped into it. The prince rested his temple on his fingertips, staring in disbelief at Aldrik.
“I’d only meant to help her. I thought you were—Aldrik, you’re too smart for this.”
“I know,” Aldrik replied quietly, the tension seemed to have vanished, and sorrow filled his eyes in its place.
“And here I thought, thought you ...” Prince Baldair chuckled and shook his head again. “Ah, never mind.”
“Prince Baldair.” Vhalla took a step forward, and Aldrik’s hand fell from her person. “I’m sorry for my actions today. More importantly, I am sorry for striking you.” She took a breath. “I would appreciate it if-if it isn’t used as a reason to end my life.”
The prince began to laugh; he placed a palm on his stomach and let the melodic sound break the tension in the air.
“No, I rather deserved it, didn’t I?” Vhalla stared at him, stunned. The prince turned to his brother. “I
t wasn’t her fault today, Aldrik. I think some of what she said actually may have gotten through to the men. You would’ve been proud if you’d seen it, I think.” Prince Baldair shifted to rest his cheek in his hand. “And Vhalla, I’m sorry. That was not a princely way to act.”
Vhalla studied him carefully. On the whole, this man had done more good by her than ill, and he had earned credit while she was on trial that he was spending now. He may be an emotional fool, but Vhalla wasn’t certain he was malicious.
“I forgive you, my prince,” she said. His words still stung but Vhalla put it out of her mind, at least for now.
Vhalla turned back to Aldrik—her tall, wonderful, dark prince—and gave him a relieved smile. His eyes fell softly on her, and it felt as though the tension that had been building between them was close to breaking. It was not an unwelcome feeling.
“Let’s go?” she asked.
He nodded, shooting a final glare at his brother before stalking out.
Vhalla paused briefly, turning. She assessed the fair-haired prince who stared curiously back. “What you wanted from me, I’m afraid I cannot give it.” Vhalla had come to accept that whatever happened, whatever they were, she would not be the one to end it between her and Aldrik.
“Tread carefully, Vhalla,” Prince Baldair cautioned. “I know a lot more about my brother than you. I may seem like an ass.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“I am an ass at times,” he corrected with a chuckle. “But I am exactly what you see. He’s not. There are things about him you still don’t know.”
Vhalla pulled back the tent flap. Even if there were things, Vhalla wasn’t going to hear them from Baldair. Aldrik would tell her, in time.
“And Vhalla?” The prince stood. “Ride up at the front again. Don’t let this dissuade you.”
“Why?” she asked skeptically.
“Because I think it does the men good to see you with me.” He sensed her confusion and continued, “You are a symbol, Vhalla. And, despite what some may have you believe, you have more control over what you symbolize than anyone else.”