Vhalla clenched her palms into fists to keep them from shaking, swallowing the taste of bile. Slowly, she raised her wrists. But where iron was to meet skin, warm fingers closed instead.
Aldrik pulled her away, his fingers tight and his eyes alight. She hadn’t even heard him move. “You will not put those on her,” he uttered threateningly. The prince angled his body halfway between Vhalla and his father.
The Emperor seemed completely taken aback at his son’s outward refusal of his will before their subjects. “Aldrik, you are making a fool of yourself.”
“This is wrong,” the prince insisted. He pulled Vhalla a half step closer, her balled fists resting against his chest. “She has served you dutifully and without question. She has saved my life—more than once—as well as the lives of countless others in your army. And she has likely saved your campaign today. And you would put her in irons?”
Vhalla absorbed the words that practically dripped disgust. There was a fearsome, barely controlled anger to the crown prince’s features. His jaw was set and his mouth pressed into a thin line as he glared at his father. Vhalla could feel the power radiating off of him, and even Jax took a step away.
“My son, I know you are intrigued by the girl’s magic. But this is for the best.” The Emperor’s eyes shone dangerously. “Go back to the table, so that we may move on from this and resume our discussion.”
Aldrik pointedly ignored his father, looking down at Vhalla. His voice audibly softened as he spoke, “Come, Vhalla. Since my father is so insistent on privacy, let me escort you to where you can rest; I am sure you’re tired from your Projections earlier.”
Vhalla nodded, grateful. She didn’t know if Aldrik really believed his words. Or if he saw her shaking like an autumn leaf and knew she needed to be anywhere else to compose herself.
“Aldrik!” the Emperor spoke his son’s name like a curse.
“I know you have been asked this before, but may we have your word that your magic will never be used against the will of the Solaris Empire?” Aldrik’s thumbs grazed gently over her wrists.
“You have my word, my prince,” she said softly, the tenderness in his eyes and manner reassuring her.
“Is her word good enough for you, Majors?” Aldrik turned back to the table.
No one moved. Vhalla was not surprised. He was asking them to openly defy the Emperor for his son. The right or wrong choice no longer mattered.
“It is good enough for me,” Daniel was the first to speak. His eyes met hers with determination, and Vhalla swallowed in relief. Even when she was half in Aldrik’s embrace, Daniel stood by her.
“And me,” Jax seconded. He wore a frown looking at the shackles the Emperor still held.
“I will say it, again: the Le’Dans stand with the Windwalker and the Lord of the West,” Erion proclaimed proudly.
“I see no reason why we should not trust her.” Vhalla had not expected Major Zerian’s support.
“I have always known Vhalla to be a woman of her word,” Baldair spoke as well.
The other majors seemed to be reassured that the second son was giving a nod or small voice of approval for Aldrik’s position.
“We have moved on from the time when such things were needed.” Aldrik turned back to his father. “Put the relic away so that it may return to the dark corner of the museum from where it came.”
There was a long silence. The Emperor squinted at Aldrik, looked to the table, and then focused only on her. Vhalla held her breath. Aldrik’s fingers were hot on her skin, and she took comfort in the fact that he had not let her go.
“Miss Yarl,” the Emperor addressed only her. “This is no longer about what you are, or are not, able to do. It is no longer about your word on what you will or will not do. What is most imperative is that you respect the will of your Emperor, your true lord.”
Aldrik’s hands clenched over her quivering wrists. She hated the position she stood in. She loathed the Emperor with every fiber of her being. Vhalla took a deep breath and, in spite of it all, she knew what she had to do.
The prince’s attention snapped to her as Vhalla tugged against his fingers. His shock uncurled his grasp, and Vhalla’s wrists slipped away. Recklessness made her bold, and Vhalla wrapped her fingers around his where they hovered in the air.
“My prince, thank you for your trust and faith in me,” she whispered softly. Aldrik’s lips parted to object, but Vhalla shook her head firmly. “I am a loyal subject and must follow the will of my Emperor.”
Her hands released his, and Aldrik made a motion to reclaim them. Vhalla stopped him with a cautionary stare. She had made her choice.
But, contrary to her words and all the words she would ever say publicly about it from then on, it was not a choice made from desire to follow her Emperor. It was inspired by the opposite feelings. With the majors’ support behind her, she would cement herself as the obedient soldier. She would knowingly turn herself into the humble servant, abused by their power-hungry master.
Or that was what she hoped would happen as Vhalla held out her wrists.
Finally having what he wanted, the Emperor placed the cold metal on her skin, snapping the cuffs shut. As soon as they latched, the crystals shone with a faint glow, the connection made in a complete circle. Vhalla gasped and staggered before doubling over and falling to her knees; it was as though someone had kicked her in the gut. No, it was as though someone had carved out her chest entirely.
“Vhalla!” Aldrik was on his knees beside her.
“Don’t touch her,” Jax cautioned. “Her body is now under the influence of the crystals, my prince; it could react poorly with your magic.”
She fought for air. It was as though the cuffs had taken away her ability to breathe or think. Her whole body felt strange, and she reeled from the vertigo.
“Are you all right?” Daniel’s step forward vaguely registered for Vhalla.
“I-I am. It’s ...” she panted, struggling to breathe. It was as though the air itself had vanished. The world was too still. Even her own voice sounded distant and dull. “A shock.”
“I believe they are called Channels, the way a sorcerer draws their power.” The Emperor had a curious glint to his eyes. “These cuffs were engineered by Windwalkers in old Mhashan to be used on other sorcerers to block such passageways.”
On other Windwalkers, Vhalla corrected mentally. Her vision clouded, staring at the shackles. These had been made by slaves, for slaves.
“They work by blocking the source of a sorcerer’s magic and prevent it from being opened for the duration which the cuffs are worn,” the Emperor explained to a generally horrified table. “Given the abilities of a Windwalker, I can agree that removing her sorcery is the best course of action.”
Vhalla hadn’t realized how accustomed she had become to feeling magic. It was a part of her, and its absence made it feel as though it had been torn from her like a limb. Yet she struggled to her feet. Aldrik grabbed her elbow, helping her. She didn’t have the strength to caution him against touching her.
“She has proven her loyalty, Father. Take them off.” Baldair frowned at Vhalla’s empty expression.
“You are dismissed, Miss Yarl.” The Emperor walked back toward the table.
Vhalla stared at her feet, trying to ignore her hands bound together before her. She tried to will herself to move.
“Enough! I have had enough of this!” Aldrik gripped the box Jax was still holding, ripping it from his grasp. It fell loudly as Aldrik cast it aside for a small key contained within. The prince grabbed for her wrists. The crystals flared, reacting to Aldrik’s touch.
Aldrik grit his teeth and placed the key in the center hinge holding the shackles together. The cuffs popped open and fell off her wrists with a metallic thud. His jaw set, Aldrik picked them off the floor and threw them back into the box, snapping it shut.