“What is it?” Her heart began to race.
“I said come with me, now.” Jax had a conflicted restraint to his movements.
“Where?” Daniel asked on her behalf, sitting.
“The Emperor requests your presence.” Jax was focused only on her. Five words had never brought Vhalla so much hope and dread.
“What’s going on, Jax?” Daniel asked, dropping his voice. “It’s just us, you don’t have to follow his commands like an automaton among friends.”
“I said now.” Jax walked in, grabbing her by the arm and tugging her forward.
“That’s enough, Jax!” Daniel was on his feet.
“Don’t interfere with Imperial orders!” Jax barked back, pushing her out of the shack. Vhalla stumbled but quickly righted herself. Jax didn’t place his hand on her person again, he didn’t need to as Vhalla fell in line obediently.
They were both pawns of the crown, she realized. But there was no time to process that revelation as her eyes fell on the mass of people before the camp palace. She clenched her hands into fists and her heart began to race. If the Emperor was here, then that meant Aldrik would be as well.
Vhalla turned to Jax suddenly. “Before we’re there, tell me, is the crown prince ... is he alive?”
The Head Major of the Black Legion said nothing, but he did not scold her for pausing her forward progress either.
“Jax, tell me, please,” Vhalla pleaded.
“The crown prince lives,” he affirmed with a nod. That was the only hope he gave her before they continued onward.
“The Windwalker!” A soldier noticed her when she drew close to the crowd. It was strange to have someone identify her as Vhalla Yarl on sight. But these soldiers had been present for the fight in the Pass: she had already cast off the guise of Serien before them.
The crowd parted in awe.
“She lives,” someone whispered.
“It’s true: she flew like a bird.”
“The wind protects the crown,” another told their friend proudly.
Vhalla stared at them, shades of the sandstorm returning to her. She didn’t know the cause of their reverence. She had no doubt that these people held little love for Aldrik. But they stared upon the person who had saved their prince as though she were the first ray of dawn.
“Windwalker,” one called as she approached the doors of the camp palace with Jax. Vhalla paused and the Westerner didn’t force her forward. “Will you be able to wake the prince?”
The question was a crushing blow and the person delivered it with so much hope.
“I ...” she faltered in her response.
“The Emperor has demanded the Windwalker’s presence,” Jax announced, sparing her from any explanation as he ushered her into the long hall.
The Emperor stood over one of the tables, alone. “Jax, leave us.” He didn’t even turn to face them.
Jax gave her one more guarded look, and then departed.
“Do you hear how they call for you?” The Emperor sighed. “Do not let their praise go to your head, girl. They only do so because I had to claim that I was the mastermind behind your little quest.”
The Emperor turned, and Vhalla felt as small as a field mouse under his stare.
“You.” His eyes raked over her. “You, a nothing, forced the
Emperor to lie to his people. Are you proud of that fact?”
“No.” Vhalla averted her eyes for the illusion of respect. The last thing she wanted to do was aggravate the man further. She knew her actions were going to earn his ire as a soldier that had refused orders. But she hadn’t considered how they could be viewed as a challenge.
“I do not like being forced to do anything, especially by a no one.” The Emperor slowly approached her. “Have I not been merciful? I asked you only to remain focused, to give me the North, and in return I would give you back your freedom.”
His palm rested on the crown of her head in an almost fatherly manner. Vhalla wanted to swat the offending contact away.
“And how do you repay my benevolence?” The Emperor’s voice had taken a dangerous turn. His fingers clenched into a fist and with it a handful of hair. Vhalla yelped as she was pulled to her toes to keep half her scalp from ripping off her head. “Look at me when I speak to you,” he snarled.
Vhalla pried her eyes open, blinking away tears from the pain. She wouldn’t cry in front of this man.
“You repay me with disobedience. Theft and death of the crown prince’s horse—a horse worth more than your miserable life—ignoring orders, conspiracy. You revealed yourself as the Windwalker. You needlessly put your life in danger, a life that belongs to me.”
Vhalla scowled. Trying to save his son was “needless”?
The Emperor frowned, as if he could sense her rebellious thoughts, and tossed her backward. Vhalla stumbled, dropping to a knee. “All for what?” Emperor Solaris raised his boot, placing it over her face. “To save life of a man whom you should have nothing to do with. Whose name your lips are barely worthy to speak, even should your small mind actually remember the proper title.”
He extended his foot, and Vhalla was forced backward to avoid breaking her nose on his heel. The Emperor regained a two-footed stance when she was sprawled before him. His presence was overwhelming, as though she was truly nothing more than the dirt beneath his boots.
“I am going to give you one order, an order so simple that it should get through even your thick skull.” Emperor Solaris spoke slowly, as though she were daft. “Spring will be upon us in a handful of weeks, and I promised my people that Soricium would fall before the winter was out. You have until then to deliver me that city or I will see you hung and quartered, magic be damned. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly.” Venom laced the word. How was it possible to love the son and hate the father with equal passion?
“As far as my men are concerned, you are my hero. I strongly suggest you play that part.” The Emperor was almost nonchalant as he returned to the table. “But understand it is only an illusion. You will never experience freedom again.”
He was revoking his word, she realized. It no longer mattered if she gave him the North or not. Her choices were no longer freedom or servitude. Her choices were servitude or death.
“Now get out of my sight.”
Vhalla didn’t need to be told twice.
VHALLA HEEDED THE Emperor’s advice and tried to smile bravely and accept the soldiers’ compliments and praise as she left the camp palace. Her exterior seemed to project the desired message, but inside, bitterness churned roughly against anger and betrayal to create a sour poison. The return of the Emperor and the soldiers who knew her true identity had lifted the guise of Serien once more, and with it her lies of freedom and hopes for the future had been torn away as well.
“Vhal?”
Through her internal chaos and the commotion of the soldiers around her, a soft voice echoed straight to her ears. Vhalla turned frantically, trying to find the source.
“Vhal!” Fritz thrust his arm into the air, drawing her attention to him.
“Fritz!” She rudely pushed past people to get to her friend. Vhalla practically tackled the messy-haired Southerner, who appeared tired but in one beautiful piece. “Thank the Mother, you’re all right.”
“I should be saying that to you.” He laughed lightly, but his arms told a different story as they clung to her. “You’re the one who ran through the North.”
“It was nothing,” Vhalla mumbled.
“Hah, ‘nothing’ she says.” He pressed his forehead against hers briefly. “I was worried.”
“I know.” She straightened.
“You had us both worried.” Vhalla wondered if Elecia had been standing at Fritz’s side the whole time.