Daniel’s feet went from dragging to a near run as he crossed to her in desperately wide steps. His body crashed against hers and his arms swept her into an all-encompassing embrace. Her arms responded before she could think, ready to welcome the only person who had been there when the world had taken everyone else from her.
“You’re alive.” Daniel’s breath was hot on her neck.
“I’m Serien ...” she whispered dumbly, reminding herself and him to play the necessary part.
“I don’t care what name.” He squeezed her tighter, if it were possible. “You’re you, and that’s all I need.”
HOW ARE YOU here?” Daniel pulled away, blinking at her in awe. “They said we were the first group to arrive.”
Vhalla opened her mouth to speak but could only make a strangled, choking noise. The sight of him was wonderfully familiar, so much so that the relief it inspired nearly made her feel guilty. Vhalla stepped away and loosened her grip on him so that she could take his hands.
“Somewhere private,” she whispered, attempting some secrecy. Half the room was close enough to hear.
Daniel nodded. “Erion, Jax, I’ll have that drink with you later.” “The shacks are as you left them.” Erion sipped his drink. He, Raylynn, and Craig were all intently watching Daniel and
Vhalla’s intertwined fingers.
“Our little Danny grew up! Stealing women away!” Jax cheered, and Vhalla’s cheeks burned at the laughter that erupted in the room following such a proclamation.
Daniel quickly led her out, sparing them further embarrassment. The sun had almost completely set and, in the fading light, Vhalla could see his face competing with hers for the deeper shade of red.
“Jax, he’s-he’s a few pieces shy of a whole Carcivi board and he’s like that,” Daniel said quickly and apologetically.
Vhalla nodded, that much had been apparent from the moment she’d met the head major.
“But he’s a good man, truly, just a little ...” Daniel sighed, slowing and turning. As if suddenly remembering he held her hand, he quickly pulled his away, plunging his palms into his pockets.
Vhalla said nothing, staring up at the Eastern lord. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he whispered.
“I’d rather not be ...” Vhalla stared southward.
“Right.” He nodded, catching himself distracted again. “Let’s get somewhere we can talk.”
Daniel proceeded down and to the right of the camp palace. It was the first time Vhalla had walked among the soldiers and, while most were indifferent to her, they were certainly not to Daniel. He did his best to keep their pace, but it took nearly double the time it should’ve to transverse the short walk to a series of shacks with a communal fire pit that had a tarp suspended over it. It seemed every soldier wanted to welcome back the member of the Golden Guard.
Vhalla’s suspicions that these were the temporary homes of the most elite fighting force were validated when Daniel led her into one of the shacks. A curtain was the only barrier between his space and the rest of the world. But Vhalla instantly found herself relaxing.
“It’s not much.” Daniel rubbed the back of his neck.
It was nothing more than four walls and a roof. His supplies had already been dropped, armor on a simple stand, a few personal effects on a small table. His bedroll was open on a low platform, keeping it off the dusty ground.
“It’s perfect,” Vhalla countered.
The room was so far removed from anything she’d ever known that it held no meaning for Vhalla. The camp palace was filled with Aldrik, with why she was in the North. Here was a place where she could be Serien, someone else, or no one—it didn’t matter.
“Why are you here?” he rephrased his earlier question, taking a step toward her.
If Baldair hadn’t known about Aldrik, then it made sense that none of the recent arrivals would.
“There was an attack at the Pass.” She tried to harden herself in the way she’d learned as Serien, to speak as though the memories didn’t threaten to crush her with every word. “Aldrik fell—” Vhalla’s eyes widened realizing that she hadn’t used the crown prince’s title. She shouldn’t have been shocked to see that Daniel was completely unsurprised. He already knew. “I tried to save him, but I couldn’t. He was barely alive and dying. I came ahead for medical supplies.”
Daniel stared at her in shock. “When you say you came ahead ...”
“I ran.” Her words were firm, with a defensive edge in case he challenged her decision. “I rode Baston, put the wind to his hooves until they killed him—”
“They?”
“Northerners.” Vhalla thought it obvious.
“You faced Northerners?” Daniel took another step closer.
“I fought and I killed them to make it here.” She didn’t have to amplify the truth to feel its gravity. “I’ve been here, alone for days, and I don’t even know if I have anything to show for it. I don’t even know if he’s alive.”
His arms encircled her for a second time and, for a second time, her hands sought him out. “You did well.” His palm rubbed her back. “It was enough, you did enough.”
She pressed her eyes closed and relished in his words. Maybe they were empty praise. Maybe they were right and maybe wrong. But she still had wanted to hear them.
“Vhalla, I ...” Daniel began to pull away.
“Don’t,” she whispered. He stilled. “No names, no more words. Let me hide for a while, comfort me as you would anyone.”
Daniel straightened just enough to meet her eyes, their faces nearly touching. The sight slowed her heart enough to find peace, enough to ignore the conflicted mess of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. “You’re not just anyone. But, whatever you desire.”
“Thank you.”
“You have nothing to thank me for.” Daniel timidly rose a hand. Gently, the pad of his thumb stroked across her cheek.
He obliged her wishes and neither said anything for the rest of the night, everything was somehow understood and beautifully simple. Daniel held her and warded away the emptiness that she’d been struggling against for days. It was a selfish comfort, but one she’d so desperately needed.
Erion didn’t seem surprised the next morning when she crept out of Lord Daniel Taffl’s tent. “Breakfast,” he said softly, drawing Vhalla’s attention to the skillet that cooked over the central fire.
The food actually smelled good. It was barely dawn, and she had nowhere else to be yet, so she sat on one of the tree stumps opposite the Western lord. War was an interesting equalizer in the world. It made lords and ladies prepare food like common folk, and the only things that were had were earned or taken.
“How do you know Daniel?” Erion focused on the fire and the food cooking over it.
“We ...” She paused. “We met when I joined the Empire’s army in the West.”
“The West, hmm?”
Vhalla nodded, discovering the guise of Serien no longer fitting as it once had.
“Where in the West are you from?” A pair of cerulean eyes assessed her thoroughly.
“Qui.” She knew a test when she saw one.
“Qui?” Erion whistled low. “How did an Eastern woman end up in Qui?”
She realized he was appraising her amber-tan skin color and not-black hair. “Never asked. Mother didn’t talk much before she died. Father was too drunk to ever bother saying.” Before Erion could get in another word, Vhalla made note of his Southern blue eyes and continued, “And how did a Southerner end up ...”
“In the Crossroads?” Erion smirked and she realized how poorly her attempt at a counter at his parentage had failed. “Certainly you know where I am from.”