Air Awakens Book One

by Elise Kova

  “It’s all right.” She picked at the stray threads of her sack, suddenly feeling less hungry thinking about the men and women in the courtroom.

  Craig returned with a small roll and a handful of grapes. “It’s all I could get; they weren’t really planning on feeding you, apparently.” He passed it through the bars and she began nibbling and picking at the food.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if Egmun told them part of my powers was not needing to eat,” she said bitterly, certain he was spinning lies about her right now. Both men chuckled and she forced down the last of the bread.

  “We’re going to take you to the Chapel of Dawn today,” Daniel said. She looked up curiously. “Baldair told us that normally a prisoner likes to pray before their verdict, asking for fairness and wisdom from the Mother. Or absolution from their crimes.”

  Vhalla had never been a particularly spiritual person, but she would take any excuse to leave her cage. The Chapel of Dawn was the official place of worship for the Imperial Family and capital. It was one of the highest public places in the palace. To get to the chapel, the common folk used an outdoor stairway not far from the Sunlit Stage. It was where the Crones of the Mother were ordained and where coming of age, weddings, and other religious ceremonies were held for the Imperial Family.

  The day passed. Vhalla inspected her wounds and found them red and puffy, but no worse. It was the not knowing that began to drive her mad. If she could walk outside of her body like Aldrik had once implied she could, then perhaps Vhalla could listen in on the courtroom. But the idea of being stuck out of her body again kept her rooted firmly in place, doing little more than rolling pebbles across the floor and back.

  “Let’s go,” Craig said finally. Vhalla pulled herself to her feet and ran a hand through her hair, snagging on tangles almost immediately. “I’m not going to shackle you, so please don’t run.”

  “I promise,” she agreed, not sure if these guards were exceptionally smart, or extraordinarily stupid for trusting her. Whatever the case, she was glad they did and that they allowed her to walk silently between them.

  She’d done little all day, but Vhalla found the walk exhausting. The path was entirely underground, up dimly lit stairwells, and cobweb cluttered halls. They passed no one else, which led her to assume she was in some kind of temporary holding and not the labyrinth of dungeons that were rumored to exist beneath the palace.

  Eventually they came to a rather plain door. There was a blazing sun upon it, crafted from bronze but tarnished with age. It protested Daniel’s attempts to open it, starting to budge only when he put his shoulder into it.

  “Are you sure this is the right way?” He coughed up dust.

  “It’s what the prince told me.” Craig shrugged. “Maybe it’s been a while since the last person?”

  “It’s been a long while,” Daniel muttered.

  She was thankful that Craig had thought to grab a torch a while back. For a brief moment, Vhalla’s heart raced as she realized that she was very far from anyone else, alone with two guards. But as the muted lights of the Chapel began to stream in through the door, she breathed easy.

  They walked into a small sub-room of the Chapel that Vhalla had never seen before. There was a large altar. Over it was a sculpture of the Goddess holding out her arms. She was swathed in life-giving flame and had a firm, but kind, expression on her face. On the altar were a series of ritual artifacts, a golden mirror supported by white marble, a steel dagger, and black and white candles. There were only four kneeling pillows set out and they looked old and worn. Vhalla assumed the pillows were once white, but now they were threadbare and gray with dust.

  There was another door that Vhalla surmised led into the main area of the chapel. It seemed to be in better care and was reinforced with iron and a golden lock. Daniel kicked off his boots before entering the sacred space to try the other door. This door did not budge either, but gave a tell-tale clank of a lock engaging.

  “I guess we’ll wait outside here then.” He shrugged, yanking his shoes back on. “It’s the only access, so we know you can’t run.”

  “Give you privacy in your prayers,” Craig offered.

  Vhalla gave them both a small smile. They couldn’t give her much, but what they could they did. With a nod both departed, leaving her alone.

  They hadn’t given her shoes, so she had nothing to strip before entering the hallowed ground—but she wished she had something to wash her feet and hands with. Walking over to one of the pillows, Vhalla sat listlessly, watching the dancing flames envelop the sculpture of the Mother. It was hypnotic and, while it did not resemble prayer, there was something peaceful to it. The Crones said the Mother looked after all her children; Vhalla wondered if she had been lost or forgotten. One mother had already left her, maybe that was simply her fate.

  The sculptures turned into reliefs around the outer walls. Each held a story of Mother Sun and her eternal dance with Father Moon. The Mother crafting the earth; their false child, the dragon of chaos; their splitting of the world to keep the disorder from their true children, humanity; she knew all the stories. Every tale was a memory of a book she had read on that beloved window seat. Her eyes began to burn.

  Quickly wiping her cheeks, Vhalla turned in place as the chapel door opened slowly and silently. A figure swathed in maroon glided across the threshold. The Crones of the Mother wore a deep red color to signify the departing light of the sun, a symbol that their vigil would last until the end of their days. The door closed silently and the Crone locked it again.

  “Crone,” she said uncertainly. “I’ve come for my prayers before my fate,” Vhalla tried to explain, concerned she would be presumed to be somewhere she wasn’t supposed to be.

  Two hands reached up and pulled the hood backward.

  “I know,” it was a deep masculine voice.

  “Aldrik?” Vhalla gasped in shock.

  The brim of his collar on his white jacket extended beyond the top of the large hood, and he wore his golden crown.

  “Do not speak too loudly.” He glanced around before walking over quickly. Aldrik knelt down on a pillow across from her. “Are you well?”

  “Aside from the obvious?” She grinned weakly.

  He frowned. “This is not a game, Vhalla,” he scolded her lightly.

  “Oh? I’m sorry, I thought it was. I don’t know about you, but I’ve been having so much fun.” She wasn’t in the mood to be spoken to in that tone.

  He looked at her with a frown, chewing over his words. “Your new guards, are they treating you well?” Aldrik finally asked.

  It confirmed her fears. She was a broken little thing to him. Vhalla inhaled sharply as anger rose within her. Nothing compared to the hatred the thought of Rat and Mole put in her stomach. Remembering Egmun’s eyes on her made her want to die. It compounded as she thought of Roan and Sareem, the guilt she had struggled with for days since parting with them before their deaths—or near death in Roan’s case. Even anger at the master and prince for consorting behind her back sent a pang of frustration through her. Every last thing Vhalla could have been angry about came to her then in the wake of her fear and shame.

  “What do you care?” she spat at him. Aldrik blinked as though she’d slapped him across the face. “You, you’ve gone behind my back; you’ve become a puppeteer in my life; you lied to me; you threw me off a roof; you taught me recklessly; you forged my signature.” It was hopeless, the tears came freely. “You wouldn’t even speak for me!”

  He grabbed her upper arms fiercely, and Vhalla twisted frantically.

  “Don’t touch me!” she shrieked in horror. Aldrik released her, shock and pain across his face. She held herself, feeling every emotion come tumbling through her eyes. “I-I’m just a pitiable thing to you, worthless trash, why would you touch me?” Vhalla pressed her eyelids closed and curled into a seated ball of sobs.

  By the time he finally moved, her stomach hurt from her crying. Vhalla expected him to leave. She wanted him
to hate her so that she could validate the hate she felt in herself. However, he didn’t go. Hatred would have been easier than the frustration and pain that was rife upon his face.

  The prince’s mouth opened and closed, but his silver tongue failed him. Frustrated, he grabbed the pillow next to him and stood in a half turn, throwing it toward the wall. It incinerated in a burst of flame before hitting anything. He stood with his back to her, panting softly.

  “I,” his voice was deep and ragged, “I am not a good man. Maybe I have never been a good man. Out of that sham of a trial the hardest part was to hear you waste words to defend me when all I wanted you to do was defend yourself.”

  “I would’ve let the city burn had it not been for you.” He chuckled, and it was a crazed and crackling sound, void of its normal velvety hues. Vhalla struggled to believe his words. “I was in no position to leave the palace wounded as I am, so I would have sat in the safest place I could find and waited it out.” He turned, searching her face.

  “Does it shock you? Aren’t you disgusted with your prince? I would’ve been happier watching the flames consume half the damn city to purge the filth, even if it meant sacrificing the good with it. Those are my subjects! People I am sworn to protect!” He threw out his hands. “You’re right, about it all. I wanted you. The moment I found out what you were, I wanted you like a prize to be captured and put on my shelf. And you, Vhalla, you made it so easy to manipulate you to walk right where I wanted you to. You, with your transparent innocence.”

  “Stop,” she whispered. His words stung deeply.

  “Like an ignorant fool, you trusted me and never once questioned my guiding hand—even knowing my reputation!” Vhalla looked away; she didn’t want to hear anymore. “You’re right, I had it all lined up. The master knew as soon as I suspected, but he would not go against the will of the crown prince, not even to warn you. The Minister of Sorcery didn’t know what he had in you, he may have let you go! It fell to me to ensure that you fell and awoke to your powers. You may have gone to the master in your own time, but all those choices you thought you had? That paper was signed while you were still recovering from your fall! The master knew you were already gone, even if you did not know it yourself. All I had to do was keep pushing you along, being your guiding and caring teacher, and I could’ve had your magic doing whatever my will desired!”

  “Aldrik, please...” she begged him, tears choking her.

  “And then...” His voice audibly softened. Aldrik’s shoulders slumped and his arms hung limply. “Then I realized I just wanted you around. My days were better when they involved you. I enjoyed your thoughts. It was thrilling to see you discover magic. You had a mad hopefulness about sorcery that I have not felt in almost a decade. I started finding excuses to take you away, not because you needed my teaching but because, because I wanted to see you. I looked forward to our meetings and—like that, Vhalla—your opinion mattered to the crown prince of the Empire. You mattered for who you were, not for your magic and what some dusty texts say Windwalkers may or may not be able to do.”

  She blinked up at him, speechless.

  “I wanted your forgiveness, as though that innocent acceptance would absolve me of all the blood on my hands. I wanted to see you well and happy. I wanted to see you flourish, and I wanted only a small piece. To know that in you I had made something good. And I truly wanted to keep you from pain.” He balled his hands into fists.

  “I knew the best way would have been to remove myself from your life and, by the Mother, I tried. But I was still too self-centered to tolerate that library boy. I should have encouraged you to go off and be with him. Then, despite my efforts, my brother had to meddle— only to torture me—and you wore that damn dress.” He fell down to his knees before her, his fists on the ground and head bowed. Aldrik took a deep breath, it wavered just slightly.

  Vhalla’s head swirled as she tried to absorb everything.

  “I spoke for you today,” he confessed. Vhalla’s heart skipped a beat. “I did not speak before not because I did not care, but because—because, I am not a good man, Vhalla. My voice is more likely to damn you than save you. There are people in this world—in that room—who will hurt you for the sake of hurting me.” He dropped his head again with a few bangs escaping from the perfect comb set his hair always had.

  “People who already have.” He punched the ground with such force that Vhalla jumped and knew without a doubt his knuckles were bloody. If they were, then the pain was nothing to the prince as he continued to kneel rigidly.

  Vhalla’s tears had stopped, and she wiped her cheeks with her palms. He made no motion; he barely seemed to be breathing. She took a deep breath and rubbed her nose.

  She mattered to Aldrik, Vhalla didn’t have the energy to process the how or why.

  “Did those guards really steal from the Empire?” Vhalla asked, finding her voice surprisingly stable.

  He sat down again. His knuckles were indeed bloody. “No,” Aldrik answered directly.

  Vhalla closed her eyes, and took a breath. “Aldrik,” she said weakly. “What do you want from me, really? What am I to you? Am I a conquest? A trophy? A project? An amusement? A tool?”

  He needed to tell her now. Guessing would tear her apart, and his slew of confessions was too muddled for her exhausted brain to sort through. They were nothing until she knew.

  “You,” he paused.

  She searched his face, trying to understand all the complex emotions that hung upon his lips. Aldrik glanced away with a small sigh, but he returned his eyes to her with a softness they had not possessed in some time. “You are a dear friend. For whatever my royal ass of a friendship is worth.”

  Vhalla smiled weakly. She reached out and his body went rigid. “It is worth very much,” she whispered.

  He barely seemed to breathe as she leaned over the distance between them to tuck the stray bangs back with the rest of his hair. He reached up and caught her hand gently in his.

  “Don’t...” she protested weakly.

  He stopped her from withdrawing this time, his grip warm but not painful. “Why?”

  “Because I-I,” Vhalla’s lower lip trembled and her cheeks burned.

  “You foolish girl,” he murmured. “As anything could make me not want to touch you.”

  She tensed but allowed his gentle caress to wipe away the remnants of Rat and Mole’s abuse and Egmun’s words. There was something about his skin alone that was therapeutic. No matter what the world did to her, his warmth remained.

  “My magic...” Vhalla said after a long moment, feeling electric tingles under the pads of his fingers. “Is it—broken?”

  “Broken?” he asked, the talk of magic relaxing him.

  “It hasn’t felt right since I woke up,” she explained.

  “Ah,” Aldrik shook his head. “No, not broken. You’re likely exhausted from the exertion. It is a wonder you did not use it up completely, then you would really be in trouble.”

  “It’s all trouble, isn’t it?” She laughed weakly and was rewarded with a small smirk from him as well. Vhalla took a deep breath and gathered her strength. “Aldrik, I need your honesty. I don’t care about your reputation. I want you to be open with me.” She paused, swallowing hard. “For however long I may continue to be alive.”

  “You shall have it.” The crown prince nodded. “Do not be afraid, Vhalla. I will not let them kill you.” He made two dangerous promises in two breaths. Yet something in his voice told her he was ready to go to great lengths to keep both. Aldrik squeezed her hand gently. “I should return. The break for lunch will be over soon, and after my testimony I am sure they will want me accounted for.”

  She gripped his hand as though her life depended on it, feeling tears protest his departure. He stopped all movement. Even after his confessions, after the anger, after all she’d been though, he remained. Aldrik, her prince—good or evil—remained with her. They both stared, waiting for the other to make the first move. Vhalla would h
ave given anything for time to stop.

  “Please don’t go,” she whispered faintly. “I don’t want to face their verdict alone.” Her shoulders trembled, and she struggled to keep the tears contained. As the time ticked down Vhalla realized, with earth-shaking horror, the notion of dying terrified her.

  “Vhalla...” he breathed faintly. “You are never alone. I will be there.” He took her palm and placed it on his hip, his body was even warmer than his hands. “Never forget, we are Bound.”

  Vhalla remembered that dark and ugly spot from the day in the garden. She looked at where her hand now rested on the prince’s side.

  “We will face it together.” His tone was sincere and serious. She looked for reassurance, and he lavished it upon her with only his eyes. One more time, Vhalla let herself shamelessly fall into those dark depths, before he rose to leave.

  IF CRAIG AND Daniel had heard anything, they made no indication when she met them shortly after. They also had the decency not to comment on her eyes being red and puffy. Vhalla replayed the surreal conversation in her head as she followed the guards.

  The prince was ever an enigma.

  He had said he was her friend. Vhalla wondered exactly how he had been taught the meaning of friendship. The lines of truth and lies were blurred with him and her life hadn’t exactly improved since he had entered it.

  She resumed her seat by the door after Craig and Daniel locked her back in. Aldrik, she thought, not daring to say his name aloud. No matter what had happened, she couldn’t find it in her to regret meeting the dark prince.

  “Friends, huh...” she breathed, remembering how he held her beneath the stars. Vhalla opened her eyes before her mind betrayed her.

  The door at the end of the hall banged open. Vhalla heard the scampering of small feet and turned. A servant boy dressed in a dull gray tunic came running. “The prisoner is requested.”

  Craig and Daniel exchanged a look before turning to her. Vhalla nodded and stood; it was time. They unlocked the door and she walked unshackled to the courtroom. No matter what happened, she found relief knowing this was the last time she would make this walk. The door opened before her, and Vhalla plunged herself into the light, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the late afternoon sun.