“You think you will lead them to victory?” the man sneered up at her, his face a mess of mutilated flesh. “We sent birds, we reported, we have friends here in the West who hold no more love for you. Every sentry; every soldier; every man, woman, and child will aim their arrows, their blades, their stones, their axes, their fists, their picks, and their poisons at you. You cannot comprehend our power, and you will die.”
“Daniel, give me your dagger,” Vhalla demanded softly.
“Vhalla—”
“Give it to me!” She pried her eyes away from the Northerner, the pain manifesting as hot rage.
Daniel looked hopelessly to Baldair, who turned to the Emperor. The royal considered it only briefly, before nodding at the Golden Guard. Daniel flipped the weapon, carefully grabbing the blade to hold out the hilt to her.
The metal of the hilt felt like her magic did the first time she’d opened her Channel. It was a rush of power. But this was darker, of a more twisted and primal nature. Vhalla limped forward toward the disabled man, her calf beginning to protest her weight. Her clothes were soaked in blood, her own and otherwise, and her shoulders were heavy with guilt.
The Northerner squinted up at her with hatred and rage. For the briefest of moments, Vhalla wondered if he had loved those she’d killed on the Night of Fire and Wind the same way she had loved Larel. If she simply stared into a mirror of herself, she just happened to be on the lucky side of the reflection.
The man snarled and lunged. Vhalla moved to meet him. She did not need the Joining; she would do this alone. Vhalla remembered what Daniel had said as she felt the resistance of the blade sink straight through the man’s eye, embedding itself into his skull.
There was no sound but the wind as Vhalla remained frozen in time, staring at the remaining wide-eye and lifeless face of the man she had killed. This was not a blind rage, it wasn’t a burst of power, and it was not a memory her mind would later block. It was the deliberate end to a life, and it had been horribly simple.
Vhalla suddenly felt sick, and she swayed as her whole body trembled. She felt empty and yet so full with agony that she was certain she was going to split apart at the seams and die.
Her calf gave out with the waning resolve, and Vhalla staggered, falling.
Daniel moved to catch her, but Aldrik was faster. The prince caught and twisted her. Vhalla found herself weightless as Aldrik hoisted her into the air, holding her to his chest. She grimaced as he shifted his arm around the severed flesh of her back, finding a way to hold her with the least amount of pain possible.
When the prince turned, Vhalla could see the face of the Emperor. It was deathly still and the malice in his eyes at the sight of her in Aldrik’s arms was palpable, but the prince said nothing. He looked past his father and started for the hotel in which he’d been staying. Vhalla felt every wide eye and saw each gaping mouth as the people parted to make way for the crown prince and Windwalker.
“Aldrik,” she breathed, trying to be quiet enough that only he would hear. “Aldrik, you-I-they ...”
“Let them say something,” Aldrik ground out through a clenched jaw. “Let one person say something and give me a reason to burn it all.”
Vhalla felt the heat in his palms, the raw strength he wielded that promised to make good on his threats, and she closed her eyes. Vhalla leaned against the shoulder of the crown prince as he carried her into the temporary home of the Imperial family. She pressed her face against him and allowed his strength to shield her weakness as her shoulders began to shake and tears fell once more.
ALDRIK LAID HER down gently on a chaise, a boneless shell of grief and tears. Vhalla curled on her side, almost choking as she sobbed. Aldrik sat next to her, his fingers lightly caressing her hair.
Whatever peace he could offer her was quickly ruined by the door slamming open.
“You have lost your mind!” Lord Ophain took giant steps toward his nephew.
“Leave us, Uncle.” Aldrik didn’t pull his eyes away from her, his fingers losing themselves in her hair.
“I thought you wanted to protect her—”
“And she is clearly nowhere safer than at my side.” There was a foreboding calm to Aldrik’s words.
“No, what you did just now was put an even bigger target on her back by showing everyone that she’s the chink in the crown prince’s armor!” Lord Ophain pleaded, “Aldrik, you need to move her to a clerical room and cover for your actions. That you acted as you did only because we need her for the war. You want her to think that—”
Fire erupted next to them as the opposite chaise burst into flame. The sudden brightness and flames at Aldrik’s back made Vhalla stir.
“Uncle, I swear to the Mother, if you or anyone else tries to take her from me—”
“That’s enough, Aldrik.” Vhalla rested her hand over one of his clenched fists. The flames instantly extinguished. She slumped against him, his arm quickly wrapping around her shoulders. Vhalla didn’t know which one of them was shaking. “He’s trying to help. Should I—”
Aldrik tightened his arm, half-pulling her onto his lap. He held her against him as if he was desperately trying to piece back the broken thing she was with his quivering caresses. One arm clutched at her waist, and he drew a shaky breath. “No, I will not.” He scowled at the Lord of the West as he spoke to her. “I will not let you go.”
“You’ll need to let her go if you don’t want her to die from infection.” Prince Baldair stood in the doorway. “I’ll see to her here.” He crossed over, placing one of the largest cleric’s boxes Vhalla had ever seen on the ground by the chaise.
The two brothers regarded each other, and Vhalla began to think Aldrik was going to make good on his promise. But his arms finally relaxed, and he eased her back into a reclining position. Aldrik quickly resituated himself so that her head could rest on his thigh.
The younger prince pulled at the hem of her shirt, slicing through the tatters in the back all the way to her collar. Vhalla didn’t have the energy to worry about her modesty. She didn’t have the energy to do anything other than cry and let Aldrik wipe away the tears.
“Father is assembling the majors,” Baldair said finally. “You need to go.”
“I’m not leaving her,” Aldrik repeated.
“She needs to rest,” Prince Baldair retorted.
“You should go, Aldrik.” Lord Ophain was much more collected. “If you want to protect her then you must go. You are the only one who can represent her interests at that table, both of your interests.”
Aldrik’s hands stopped moving. His pain palpably washed over her and numbed Baldair’s probing in the gash on her back. Vhalla clutched the crown prince’s thigh with white knuckles. Her fingers would leave bruises in their wake.
He was going to leave her. She knew he had to but that made it no easier. The world was taking him from her too. Vhalla couldn’t handle it.
“Baldair,” Aldrik choked on the a but quickly recovered.
Larel had been his friend too, his only friend in many ways. Vhalla had taken her from him as well. It was all her fault. Vhalla pressed her eyes closed, her whole body shaking.
“You don’t let her out of your sight. You protect her with everything you have. You see her healed and well. Do this for me and I will never ask a single thing of you again,” Aldrik’s voice was raw as it forced through tears he wasn’t letting fall.
Prince Baldair’s ministrations paused as the two princes shared a look of understanding that had not been there in some time. “You have my word, brother. On my honor.”
Aldrik began to pull away from her. Vhalla gripped his hands with both of hers, willing him to stay. “D-don’t, Aldrik. Please, don’t leave me yet. I know you have to but not, not yet.”
Her eyes nearly broke him.