Vhalla stared in awe. Hollow title or no, it was more esteem than she had ever contemplated in her life. She made the mistake of looking to the Emperor and resisted the urge to push the fabric back in Lord Ophain’s palms. Emperor Solaris’s eyes were steely. She gripped the ribbon tighter. It meant nothing, it was a symbol of good faith, of righting wrongs of the past. It posed no threat of change to her current status. Surely the Emperor knew that?
“You honor me, my lord,” Vhalla mumbled, lowering her eyes.
“If you are quite finished, Lord Ophain,” the Emperor said coldly, “Miss Yarl has other places to be.”
Vhalla didn’t, but she was eager to be out of the suddenly oppressive room. She gave one last bow and noticed that suddenly the Western nobility gave her small nods of their heads. All, save for one; a mustached major, whom Vhalla had never so much had laid eyes on before the demonstration, regarded her with thinly veiled contempt.
It was impossible to leave the room fast enough, retreating back to her inn.
Larel and Fritz were waiting for her when she returned. They lounged in a sitting area to the left of the lobby’s entrance. Daniel and Craig occupied the Carcivi board to the right. All of them looked up in interest the moment she entered.
“How’d it go?” Fritz was the first to ask.
“Well,” Vhalla held up the ribbon in white-knuckled grip. “I got a Crimson Proclamation.”
“A what?” Larel asked.
Daniel and Craig seemed equally lost.
“A Crimson Proclamation?” Fritz was on his feet, rushing over to her. “I didn’t think the West gave these anymore.”
“What is it?” Larel asked, crossing over to Vhalla and Fritz.
“Crimson Proclamations were how the old kings of the West built their court. They raised people to noble status with them,” Fritz explained.
“So, are you a noble now?” Daniel went to get a look himself.
“Not really,” Vhalla remembered what Lord Ophain said.
“The Emperor abolished the Western Court,” Fritz continued. “When Mhashan was absorbed into the Empire and became just ‘the West,’ the Emperor didn’t want an uprising from the people who were old nobility. So he formed the Imperial Court as a way to appease them, giving the old nobility new Southern titles and elevating his own lords and ladies to sit among them.”
“He took control of their power then?” Craig rubbed his chin.
Fritz nodded. “And, in effect, absorbed the wealth of the oldest families in the West. But why did you get one?”
“Lord Ophain said it was a gesture of good faith, for the Burning Times,” Vhalla summarized.
Comprehension sunk into Fritz’s face.
“The Burning Times?” Daniel asked.
That launched Fritz into a whole new history lesson. One that, given Daniel’s interest in Windwalkers, took significantly longer. Vhalla listened quietly, still digesting the afternoon.
The Emperor seemed pleased with her demonstration ... but his eyes. She suppressed a shiver. His eyes were void of all emotion each time they fell upon her. The more interactions she had with Emperor Solaris, the less doubt Vhalla had that her place beneath him would never change.
“So, they just, killed them all?” Craig leaned back in his chair in shock.
“Yep.” Fritz nodded. “And Vhal’s the first one since.”
She met her friend’s proud smile with a tired curl of her lips.
“However ... horrible that is, we can’t change it now, and I think we should celebrate Vhalla’s proclamation.” Daniel leaned forward in his chair.
“I don’t know if I can handle another night of celebration,” Larel said uneasily.
“Something quieter. There’s a delicious Western restaurant not far from here.” Daniel stood. “I’d love to treat the Windwalker and her friends.”
Daniel extended a hand to her, and Vhalla stared at it. She wished she could feel his joy. She wanted the excitement that had been evoked in her the first night in the Crossroads, excitement in spite of the sea of power plays and manipulation that she found herself adrift in. Vhalla took Daniel’s hand, allowing him to pull her to her feet. Sitting and brooding wouldn’t help her find that joy again, and Daniel had been a catalyst for it before—maybe he would be able to summon it again.
The Crossroads did not disappoint. The night was warm, interrupted by a cool breeze drifting through the dusty streets and alleys. Colors were splashed upon every building in the forms of bright murals, tapestries, and awnings. Music and laughter could be heard all around, in harmony with gambling parlors and pleasure halls—it was a good place to forget who you were, Vhalla decided.
The restaurant was nicer than Vhalla expected, and she was instantly overwhelmed by the menu and table setting. Fritz seemed equally lost and Larel surprisingly comfortable. Vhalla could only suspect that growing up the friend of the Crown Prince gave the Western woman insights into etiquette she wouldn’t have otherwise.
Vhalla leaned back in her chair, nursing her drink between plates. She was on the edge of a haze that seemed very inviting and, while she did not want to induce morning-after headaches, she did want to take the edge off the day. Daniel leaned back as well, allowing the table conversation to continue before them.
“What do you think of Western food?” he asked soft enough to be heard only by her.
Vhalla was startled out of her thoughts. “What? Oh, it’s delicious.”
“I think so too,” he agreed. “I didn’t know what to expect the first time I tried it.”
“When was that?” she asked.
“My first campaign.” He sipped his glass thoughtfully. “It was my first time into the West. My family never travelled much.”
“How did you end up in the palace?”
“I enlisted.” Daniel shrugged and added, “I thought it’d be a chance at a better life.”
“Hasn’t it been?” She heard the edge of disappointment in his voice.
“On paper, I suppose. I am a lord now, after all.” He had the look of someone who was seeing shadows of the past rather than the glittering splendor that surrounded him in the present. “But at night I wonder, if I had never left the East if I would still have her.”
His tone made Vhalla’s chest ache. “Don’t think that way.” Vhalla shifted in her chair to get a better look at her fellow Easterner. Daniel regarded her thoughtfully, his complete attention a heavy load. Vhalla swallowed, hoping she could find the right thing to say to support her friend. “I-I almost Eradicated my magic.”
“Eradicated?”
“Got rid of.” Daniel gaped at her in shock, as though the notion was incomprehensible to him. “I was scared when I found out I was a sorcerer. And then, the Night of Fire and Wind, I thought—I thought everything was the fault of my magic.” Food was placed in front of them but neither made a motion toward it. “My friend died because of it.”
“Vhalla ...” he said with a sympathetic tone.
She shook her head, dismissing his sympathy. “I can’t go back, and neither can you. We both have to move forward and find what beauty we can in the world as it is.”
Daniel stared at her in awe. His gaze brought a heat onto her cheeks, and Vhalla quickly placed her glass on the table, digging into the plate before her. She felt the weight of a second stare on her shoulders, and Vhalla looked up, surprised to find Larel’s waiting eyes. The Western woman smiled gently at Vhalla.
When they were done with dinner and had returned to their hotel, Larel followed Vhalla to her room following bathing. Vhalla sat on the bed, the other woman behind her, combing through her wet hair with magic fingers. “Did you mean what you said at dinner?”
“To Daniel?” The question was pointless, Vhalla knew what Larel was talking about.
Larel hummed softly behind her in confirmation as she continued to dry Vhalla’s hair.