Crystal Crowned

by Elise Kova

  “This way.” Aldrik hooked her arm, offering no further explanation.

  Vhalla was well aware of where they were. It was as though the wind itself here had been trapped by time, weighted in the scent of roses. There was the hum of magic around them, different and yet so very similar to the man who was leading her toward a marble obelisk. The figure of a woman sat atop it, a ruby sun at her back. She recognized it from a dream of Aldrik’s she’d viewed so long ago.

  “This was her garden,” Vhalla stated.

  “It was.” Aldrik looked only momentarily surprised at Vhalla’s ability to piece together where he had taken her. “My father proposed to her here, asking the youngest of three princesses to take a throne that she was never meant to have.”

  Vhalla attempted to push her resentment for the former Emperor aside. In some ways, he was like her original perceptions of the North. Vhalla had a very limited scope as to who the late Emperor Solaris really was. She’d known him during the final years of his life, the point in time where all he’d seemed to covet was his Empire and his legacy.

  But perhaps—behind the weathered, bearded, and scarred face of the Emperor she knew—there had been a young man. A man who had been as attractive as Aldrik. Vhalla saw a woman who was tall, given Aldrik’s family’s propensity to height, looming over a kneeling Emperor. She would make him wait, in Vhalla’s vision. The late Princess Fiera would be one to smile coyly and keep her true wants hidden just long enough to make the man tremble, to remind him that she was in control.

  “They must have loved each other very much.”

  “So my family tells me.” Aldrik didn’t look anywhere but his mother’s face. “My father took rose clippings and had them transported South for her so that she would feel at home.”

  “A garden she never saw,” Vhalla thought sadly.

  “My father told me once that he was still glad for building it. That it helped my mother live on. Though, eventually, I think it caused him more hurt than anything.”

  “So you took up the mantle of tending to it.” Vhalla reflected on Aldrik’s story, on the history that she had, for so long, barely understood surrounding his family. His mother had given up ever seeing that garden, ever spending time in it, for the sake of saving her son from madmen.

  Vhalla’s eyes met the statue’s once more, and she wished she could speak with the woman whose visage she now looked upon. Vhalla understood what had compelled Aldrik’s mother to run to the caverns that night, and it was something they now shared across time and life and death. She had known a truth about the world. Be it of her own insight or of some unknown guidance—like a Firebearer named Vi—Aldrik’s mother had known what the caverns could reap.

  It would stop with her, Vhalla vowed. She would end the cycle that they were trapped within, enslaved to the Caverns across time and generations. It would all end with her.

  Over the next week, Vhalla tolerated the audiences with the lords and ladies with poise. She smiled and said the expected words, doing what was now the dance of her station. It began to pay off in the war councils that were held in the evening.

  She was discovering how strong the West really was and how deep old Mhashan’s pockets ran. Vhalla began to ransack the library for records of famous noble families and began keeping a list of their names, which she reviewed at night. By day, she would smile wide and loudly praise lords and ladies from these houses. Unsurprisingly, it became just that much easier to secure promises for supplies for the war and checks to be cashed when it came time to rebuild the Empire.

  Aldrik must have pieced together what she was doing, but he made no comment against it. In the language of the Emperor, his silence was as good as resounding approval. So when the Le’Dan family appeared on their docket for the morning, Vhalla knew she was about to deal with the second oldest family in the West, the only name to rival power against the Ci’Dans.

  “I am sure Richard will have much to say regarding your union.” Ophain passed the list of appearances for the day back to Aldrik.

  “I’m familiar with how that family operates. You forget that my brother kept a Le’Dan on his guard,” Aldrik replied.

  She’d overlooked it. Vhalla had known Erion’s last name, but she’d been so wrapped up in everything else. Her spoon paused on the plate, shuffling her food like the thoughts in her head.

  “My Emperor.” A thought had occurred to her. “Let me lead the meeting with the Le’Dans.”

  Ophain and Aldrik both gave her shifting stares. Their expressions went from startled, to surprised, to intrigued.

  “I’ve been listening,” she explained. “I know what to say and what to do. And I think it would be wise.”

  “Why so?” Aldrik didn’t seem to be objecting.

  “Because your family holds bad blood with them. Whereas I doubt the Le’Dan name has any distaste for clan Yarl.” Vhalla grinned slyly and was given a similar expression in return from Aldrik. “Beyond that, in the North, Erion said his family stood with the Windwalker. Given light of recent events, I want to be the one to talk to them.”

  Comprehension raised Aldrik’s brows a fraction. The Golden Guard had been entrusted to protect her alongside the crown. She wanted to be the one to apologize for the death of their son. She needed to be.

  “Very well. You shall lead.”

  The contents of Vhalla’s stomach mirrored a spinner’s wheel all morning. Every lord and lady that was marched in was one closer to the Le’Dans. She was just thankful they were the last before lunch, otherwise Vhalla was certain that she wouldn’t have been able to eat a thing.

  “The Lords Richard and Erion, accompanied by Lady Cara Le’Dan,” the doorman at the end of the hall announced.

  Vhalla was on her feet.

  “Vhalla—” Aldrik hissed.

  She didn’t hear. All she saw was the doors swing open. A man she didn’t recognize stood alongside a pretty Southern woman. Vhalla’s eyes widened at the cane-wielding soldier standing to the man’s right.

  “Erion!” Her slippers made no sound as Vhalla sprinted across the length of the hall. She threw her arms around his waist and pulled him in for a tight embrace, her momentum nearly toppling the unsuspecting and unsteady lord.

  “Son, you didn’t tell us you were so close to the future Empress,” the man to her right remarked with a chuckle.

  “Easterners.” Erion clearly didn’t know how to handle her unexpected affection.

  “You’re all right.” Vhalla looked up at Erion’s face. He had dark circles under his eyes, and there were gray strands of hair that Vhalla hadn’t seen before. But he was alive. “I was given no indication, I thought, Daniel said—”

  “Daniel?” Erion’s face became serious. “You spoke to Daniel?”

  “We found him on the way to the East,” Vhalla tried to explain hastily. “He was feeling, he said that Craig had—”

  “My lady,” Aldrik interrupted her sharply.

  Vhalla turned back toward the Emperor, who still held his place on the raised section of the room. Vhalla knew she had completely botched the test she had earned from him in this respect. She straightened, taking a deep breath. If she had already broken all decorum, she may as well do whatever she wanted at this point.

  “My Emperor, I did not realize that I would have an old friend among our company. As I have already disturbed this audience, I seek your permission to escort my friend through the galleries.”

  Aldrik was visibly conflicted. It wasn’t an elegant situation no matter what they did. The worst thing he could do would be to refuse her now and make the interaction awkward.

  “Very well.” Aldrik forced a horribly fake smile. “If the Lord and Lady Le’Dan give their permission as well for you to not be in attendance for their audience.”

  “Of course, my lord,” Richard Le’Dan said hastily. “We would never wish to go against your lady’s desires.”

  Vhalla heard Aldrik begin speaking a somewhat different script than usual as the doors cl
osed behind her and Erion. It took a lot to throw Aldrik off balance, and Vhalla wasn’t sure if she should be proud or concerned at the fact that she had accomplished it without even trying.

  “My lady.” Erion offered her his elbow.

  “You don’t mind, do you?” Vhalla asked as she hastily took his arm. She tried to subtly offer him support on his wobbling legs, remembering what Daniel had said about Victor’s abuse.

  “Not even in the slightest.” He shook his head. “You said you had news of Daniel?”

  Vhalla’s chest tightened. She recounted the story of how she had found Daniel, glossing over some of the darker aspects of his mental state. The distance in Erion’s eyes told her that he already had a reason to suspect how bad it had actually been. It was out of respect for the horrors that the man had so clearly known that Vhalla left out the fact that Daniel’s hometown, the place that she had left him, had fallen to Victor’s troops.

  “You inherit an Empire full of broken and half-people, Vhalla.” Erion motioned to his now lame legs with his cane.

  His trousers hid what she suspected to be scarred and ravaged flesh. In truth, she was surprised he was walking at all after Daniel’s testament regarding the injury. The young lord watched her face tensely.

  “I will kill him.” She didn’t apologize. Apologies wouldn’t return Erion the life he had earned as a warrior, that he had fashioned for himself since he was a boy. They were men and women of action. She’d offer him solutions. “I can find you work here, in the palace.”

  “I decline your offer.” Erion’s cane clicked along softly. “But I will thank you for it.”

  “Are you certain? I know you cannot fight, but you have a wealth of experience with tactics and—”

  “And most of my brainpower has been spent healing and relearning how to walk. Most of my willpower goes to getting out of bed.” The words were heavy. “My days for battle are over, and I am sick of its taste. I may never expunge the blood from my dreams, but I am done washing it off my hands for this lifetime. I’ve decided to manage my family’s shop here in Norin, and learn the trade of my forefathers.” They began walking again. “When you win the war, the Empire will need to be rebuilt. That will take gold, and gold comes from commerce. I hope to serve our Empire in that way. I’m commissioning some ships to be made for longer trips to the Crescent Continent, even.”

  “Have you ever been?” Vhalla remembered what the Emperor had said about the magic of the Crescent Continent.

  “The journey across the barrier islands is perilous and one not many dare make.” Erion shook his head. “I am merely orchestrating the voyages.”

  “Right,” Vhalla mused, mostly to herself. Perhaps the difficulty was a good thing.

  “Have you been to the harbor in Norin yet?” Erion asked.

  “I haven’t even left the castle since we arrived,” Vhalla confessed.

  “I imagine a soon-to-be Empress would be busy. But if you find the time, it’s a wonderful place and unlike anything you’ll see anywhere else. I’d offer to escort you there myself but—” he looked down at his legs. “I think you would prefer a guard who could actually protect you should something go awry.”

  “Oh, I’m sure if I left the castle that Aldrik or—” Vhalla stopped herself for a second, quickly collecting her thoughts. “Have you seen Jax yet?”

  “No, I was going to head to him after our audience. I was quite elated to see him well and riding at your side.”

  Vhalla studied the brotherly smile on Erion’s cheeks. This man had been Baldair’s right hand, and they’d both held Jax in high esteem. Two men, who Vhalla had nothing but respect for, deemed Jax acceptable. Combined with Elecia and Aldrik’s general acceptance . . .

  “How can you call yourself his friend?” Vhalla blurted.

  “Pardon?” Confusion stilled him.

  “You defended him in his trial, even after what he did.” She wanted so badly to understand what everyone else seemed to know. Vhalla was giving Jax the benefit of the doubt based on those around her, but she was tired of being expected to have blind faith.

  “He told you, then?”

  “He did.” She frowned. “I have barely been able to look him in the eye for weeks. I don’t understand.”

  “What did he tell you?” Erion asked slowly.

  “The truth of how he came to be in Baldair’s service.”

  “The truth? Or Jax’s truth?”

  His words stopped her heart. Vhalla hadn’t even thought to question that the man would be lying to her. It had been so horrible. Who lied to make something worse than what it was?

  “A murder in cold blood for a lover’s revenge?”

  “Something like that,” she admitted, wondering the source of the shift in Erion’s eyes.

  “Even after all this time,” Erion muttered then cursed under his breath.

  “No. What?” she demanded, refusing to let Erion pull away.

  “It’s not my place.”

  “He said you spoke for him in court.” Vhalla thought quickly, not wanting to let the conversation die. “You can tell me why. That is your place to say.”

  Erion considered her for a long, hard moment. “He told you I spoke for him?”

  “He did.”

  “And you still believed him?”

  “Well . . .”

  “I’m hurt, Vhalla.” Erion’s expression echoed the truth of his words. “You think I am the type to rise to defend a man who slays innocent women in their beds?” She had no real answer. “Do you think Baldair would permit a man with a history of violence toward the innocent into his guard?”

  That was exactly what she’d been struggling to reconcile. “So, he lied about it? Why would he lie?”

  “You know his full name. I’m certain, as Empress, you have access to those records.” Erion stepped away. “If you want to know so badly, go and find out.”

  “Should I walk you back?” She glanced at the hall from where they’d come.

  “I know the way.”

  “Erion, I’m glad you’re all right.” Vhalla gave him one more quick embrace. This time the Westerner was ready, and his arms tentatively wrapped around her shoulders.

  “I am glad you are as well, and that one of my brothers still defends you as Baldair would have wanted.” There was a waver in Erion’s voice when he said the late prince’s name. “Fight for us all, Vhalla.”

  “Always,” she vowed.

  He let her go, and Vhalla was off. She tore a path through the castle unapologetically, a woman on a mission. The library wasn’t prepared for her whirlwind as Vhalla scanned the shelves with purpose. The old records were kept on the highest floor, and Vhalla searched for manuscripts and scrolls similar to what was kept in Hastan.

  If the truth was on the shelf, she would find it. Manuscripts littered the floor around her, and the scrolls were mostly unrolled. It was in the fifth book that she had finally found what she suspected was the right year. On the first page, Jax’s name stared back at her in the list of trials and decrees the book contained.

  Vhalla flipped eagerly, opening to the page.

  A frayed edge of parchment stared back at her. The pages, five or six by the looks of it, had all been ripped from the book. Only the first page, introducing the crimes, and the last page dictating the sentence, remained. Vhalla snapped the book shut and took a deep breath. Were some truths better not to find?

  She stood, resolute. She’d long since banned lies in her world. It was time to make sure Jax Wendyl understood that fact.

  THE DAY WAS hot. It already felt like the late days of summer in the South, but spring was barely upon them. Vhalla’s cheeks were flushed by frustration as much as from the weather.

  The guards and soldiers parted before her as she stormed through the grounds. The bottoms of her split skirt brushed upon the hard-packed, sandy dirt, wind flying under her toes. Vhalla clenched and unclenched her fingers.

  “Major Jax,” she called the moment she spotted his hi
gh bun among a group of soldiers performing drills.

  Jax paused. Aldrik had trained her well because Vhalla didn’t miss the flash of panic in his eyes. Her expression had instilled the appropriate amount of concern in him. Maybe this time it’d be enough for him to tell her the truth.

  “Why, Lady Yarl, been some time. And here I thought you’d forgotten about little ol’ me,” he chuckled.

  “Not quite.” She folded her hands at the small of her back. “I require you.”

  “That’s what they all say.” Jax gave a lecherous wink to a nearby soldier, who laughed uncomfortably.

  “In there.” Vhalla pointed to a castle entry, a gust of wind unlatching and opening a door.

  Jax followed her orders, and she followed him into the privacy of the small storeroom. Her hands were nearly shaking as she eased the door shut, trying not to slam it.

  “As much as I appreciate your Western-clad beauty, I feel obligated to tell you that the men will talk.” Jax leaned against a table, adjusting his high bun.

  “Why are the records missing?”

  Jax froze. His hands slowly fell from his hair. Vhalla watched as the madman began to take over.

  “What records are you asking about?”

  “Don’t play coy, and don’t lie to me. Your records,” she snapped.

  “I never lied to you.”

  “How dare you.” The hurt was real. It was just as bad, perhaps even worse, as Jax’s original tale. “You told me I could trust you with my life, and you didn’t trust me with your truth.”

  “I did not lie.” The man gripped the table, digging his nails into the wood. “Don’t chase this.”

  “You did. I know you did,” she insisted.

  “You drew your own conclusions, and I didn’t correct them.” Jax slapped the table and stood upright. “Now leave this be.”

  “No.” Vhalla moved in front of the door. “If you are my friend, you will tell me.”

  “Who said I wanted to be your friend?” Jax snapped back. “Let me leave, Lady Yarl. And don’t go chasing ghosts again.”