The pocket watch was smaller than his in size, but was also cast in silver. Strung by a fine chain, it held a hook that could clasp around the top of the watch to be worn as a necklace or in the traditional fashion. Its back was polished to a mirror finish. Embossed upon its front was the blazing sun of the Empire, cut in half by a wing—the same wing that had been on the back of the Windwalker’s cloaks.
“You wished for time,” Aldrik explained. “I heard each utterance when you beseeched time to stop, for mornings not to come. I want you to know I shared your every sentiment. I wanted to give you the promise of my minutes, my hours, my days.” His long fingers curled around hers, around the watch. “My future is yours, Vhalla Yarl.”
“You have a plan.” She could see it in the way he moved.
Aldrik was beaming from ear to ear as he pulled the watch from her hands, reverently unclasping it and circling it around her neck. His fingers lingered on the silver, right above her breasts where it fell. “I do.”
Vhalla found herself quickly lost in the perfect black of his eyes.
“But it is a plan that hinged on your response.”
She raised a hand, feeling the weight of the necklace as he pulled his fingers away. “How?”
“First, we must win the war and earn your freedom—but we both knew that.” The churning of the prince’s mind was suddenly written on his face. “But in the process, we will make you a Lady of the Court, which must happen for our future together not to be questioned. With each passing day, seeing you among the majors, I’ve been more confident that such will happen with ease.”
Vhalla sunk back onto the bed in shock.
“The majors are enamored with you. They admire your strong and ‘noble nature’, your grace, your poise, your stunning intelligence and eloquence, and—after tonight—your inspiring loyalty.” Aldrik sat next to her. “My father excused himself over dinner, likely to hide his face, and the moment they were free of his presence, all they spoke about was you.”
“But they can’t make a lady.” Vhalla’s hands were still passing the watch back and forth, learning it’s every curve.
“No, only my father can,” Aldrik agreed.
Her heart sank. “It’s hopeless then.”
“My love, did you think I would ask you to marry me if I thought it hopeless?” Aldrik grinned. “Think. His majors will ask for your appointment to the court. His people will cry your name as the hero of this war. The East and West both look to you.”
“That still will not make him.” Vhalla was certain of the depth of the Emperor’s hatred for her.
“And that is why my plan hinged on knowing your willingness to be my bride before I put it in action.” Aldrik took her hands in his, grounding her once more with his touch. “I told you, my father wants to abdicate the throne to me when I am thirty, if I’ve met my obligations. Those obligations include taking a wife and producing an heir.”
She nodded, but she wasn’t sure if she really understood. Her world was up-side-down, and Vhalla just had to hold onto his hands until she knew which direction the sun would rise.
“After the war has ended, I will tell him that I have given you my heart and my word as a man. He will only have two options: to raise you to a ladyship and let me marry you; or to lose the picture-perfect succession he’s been fighting toward. If he doesn’t grant me this, I will refuse to see all other women. I will honor my vow to you in silence, forever. I will wait until he dies of natural causes and then succeed to the throne and elevate you myself.”
Vhalla ran it over in her head. It was stupid. It was insane. And she kissed him for it.
“Are you happy?” He pulled away breathless.
“How can you ask that?” Vhalla laughed softly. “Aldrik, you’re nothing I expected—and everything I never knew I needed.”
She kissed him like he really had given her all the time in the world, like the dawn would never come. She allowed herself to melt into his heat and just believe, to ignore the pain and live in the fantasy. Aldrik pushed her backward and they collapsed, tangled upon the bed.
Eventually their heaving chests slowed and the two lovers stilled. Vhalla drifted off to sleep with Aldrik’s arms tightly around her. The events of the day began to blur as Vhalla eased into the land of dreams.
Vhalla instantly recognized Aldrik’s memories. Perhaps it was from her acclimation to the dreamscape, or how she and Aldrik pushed deeper into their Joining, but she had little trouble identifying the memory and separating herself from Aldrik at the start.
Her eyes focused on the dark-haired boy strolling up the tower. His body was lanky and awkward; it was as though his arms and legs had grown overnight and the rest of him had yet to catch up. He wore a white jacket, open over a light golden shirt, with red trousers. Vhalla admired the color on him, red of the West, gold and white of the Empire. His hair was unbound and went past his shoulders, straight and black.
Walking with Aldrik was a southern man with hair cropped in layers around his ears. He rubbed the hint of a goatee on his chin. The boy glanced up at him with a laugh.
“It looks like fuzz.” Aldrik’s voice was higher than she was used to, cracking from time to time to a deeper resonance.
“It’s only been four days,” the man said with a laugh.
“It still looks ridiculous.” Aldrik placed his hands folded behind his head as they walked. It was strange to see him stroll so relaxed.
“Whatever you say, my prince.” The man placed his hands in the pockets of dark blue pants.
“Aldrik is fine, Victor,” he sighed. “How many times do I have to tell you that?”
Victor, Vhalla thought. This was a young Minister of Sorcery?
“My prince, you are almost a man; you need to take your station seriously,” he scolded lightly.
“I do take it seriously,” Aldrik protested indignantly.
“Oh? Is that why I’ve seen you sneak off from your lessons on multiple occasions, with a Miss Neiress?” Victor grinned at his companion.
“Larel is different.” Aldrik crossed his arms over his chest.
Vhalla thought the color on his cheeks was adorable. It settled sweetly over the grief that the mention of Larel instilled in her.
“Is she?” Victor asked
“You know she is.” Aldrik’s hands dropped to his sides.
“Fine, fine, my prince. But I would not be your mentor if I did not mentor you from time to time.” Victor kept his eyes forward, waiting, and Vhalla saw the moment he waited for arrive.
“It’s never been like that between us.” Aldrik inspected a button on his coat.
“Truly?” Victor considered the young prince curiously.
“I, we thought—” The boy prince paused uncomfortably. “But it isn’t. We’re just friends.”
Victor gave him a knowing smile but said nothing. He seemed equally as charmed as Vhalla was by the awkward nature of exploring young love.
By how Aldrik spoke of his relationship with Larel, Vhalla placed this memory before Baldair’s black sheep comment, before Aldrik’s first kill, but sometime after him and Larel kissed on the timeline of Aldrik’s life. She sadly absorbed the young Aldrik. Vhalla wondered how many happy moments there were after this time. How much of his life had been spent in darkness and loneliness? She wondered how far the man she knew today was from the boy she saw here, from where a normal man would be.