“Aldrik, please,” she pleaded, tears streaming down her cheeks.
He eased her back down onto the chaise, standing at its side. Aldrik leaned forward, smoothing her hair away from her face one more time and pressed his lips to her temple. Vhalla sobbed.
“I will return as soon as I can.”
“Promise me.” She gripped for his fingers again. “Promise, and I’ll believe it.”
“I promise, and I will never break a promise to you, my Vhalla.” He took his hand from hers and straightened. Vhalla watched as the stony façade of the crown prince slipped back into place. He wore the distance of nobility, the ferocity of the Fire Lord, and the armor of his title. He was a warrior ready to do battle.
Vhalla balled her hands into fists and buried her eyes in the pads of her palms, letting out a wail the moment the door closed behind Aldrik and his uncle. “It’s my fault, it’s my fault.”
“It is not.” She hadn’t been speaking to the younger prince, but he responded.
“What do you know?” Vhalla spat bitterly. “You know nothing about your brother, nothing about me. You’ve never even tried to know. You were too busy with your misplaced warnings. So just be quiet for once.”
The prince obliged her for a time as he placed gauze over the wound, coating it in a sticky substance that turned icy as it hardened. He pressed on her shoulder lightly and Vhalla understood that he needed her on her stomach to access the wound on her calf. The prince began stitching the deep wound without even warning her first.
“That one had poison in it,” she mumbled.
“What?” His fingers stopped. “Are you sure?”
“It was affecting my magic.” Vhalla nodded, her tears subsiding into numbness.
“I’ll need to get someone else to see to that.” The prince fumbled among the vials of elixirs, salves, and antidotes. “I have no idea which is which for poisons.”
“Aldrik will know.” Vhalla was certain. Prince Baldair returned to his stitching and packing the wound with a thick salve. When he was finished, he came around the chaise to kneel before her face. The prince dipped his first two fingers into the tin and began to massage the ointment over Vhalla’s black eye. “Thank you, my prince,” she begrudgingly offered.
“Baldair,” he corrected.
“Baldair?” The name sounded surprisingly easy on her tongue.
“You call Aldrik by his name; it’s weird to have you continue to call me by my title.” Baldair packed up his case and stood. “I’ll fetch Elecia; she’ll see about an antidote.”
“I said Aldrik would know.” Vhalla had no interest in seeing the Western woman.
“And Aldrik will not return for many hours,” Baldair replied firmly. His tone softened when he saw her deflate. “Elecia will help you.”
Vhalla nodded and began mentally withdrawing herself to endure the assault Elecia was likely to heap upon her. It had been days since they spoke, and in such time Vhalla had become the secret lover of the crown prince, Elecia’s cousin. Vhalla closed her eyes and attempted to think about nothing.
When the door opened again Vhalla didn’t even turn. She held herself tightly, trying to fight away the shivers. Her fault, her fault, it was all her fault.
“Vhalla.” Elecia touched her shoulder gently, and Vhalla spooked, nearly jumping out of her skin at the contact. “Let me see you.”
Elecia’s manner left no room for objection, and the Westerner’s hands were suddenly wrapped carefully around Vhalla’s neck. She moved her fingers up Vhalla’s cheek, the other hand ghosting over her shoulders, down the middle of her chest and on her thigh.
Vhalla pressed her eyes closed.
“It’s the same nonsense they used on Aldrik,” Elecia sighed. “But much weaker. Shouldn’t be a problem.”
It was weaker than what Aldrik had endured? He had more and could still use his magic, where hers had already faltered. Vhalla had a whole new appreciation of the crown prince’s strength.
“Where is Aldrik?” she couldn’t stop herself from asking.
Elecia sighed, rummaging through the small bag she’d brought.
“Figuring out how to keep you safe.” Elecia sat down next to her, inspecting Baldair’s work and making her own additions. “You and him ...”
“I love him.” Vhalla shook again, the words bringing a fresh batch of tears to her eyes. “I love him, but I am only death. I am death to everyone I love. Someday I will be the death of him.”
Elecia grabbed her face roughly, turning Vhalla to face her. The woman’s emerald eyes burned red at the edges from exhaustion or tears. “You will not be. I will not let you be.”
“But—” she whined.
“If you are going to be with him, then you will find the strength to wear that mantle. You don’t get it both ways, Vhalla Yarl,” Elecia said fiercely. “He’s risking everything for you tonight, so you better be ready to do the same. Because if you hurt him, I swear I will kill you.”
Vhalla made a choked noise when her lips failed to form words. Elecia put her hand on Vhalla’s back with a frustrated sigh, creating a tingle as her magic activated the salve she had applied. She repeated the process on Vhalla’s calf and forced two more vials down Vhalla’s throat before thrusting the third into her hands.
“Deep Sleep?” Vhalla instantly recognized the smell from what Baldair had given her months ago during her trial.
“You can’t heal if you don’t sleep. Get the rest while you can.” Elecia stood.
“Wait, don’t leave me.” Elecia was the last person Vhalla ever expected to cling to. But grief wasn’t logical.
“I can’t do anything more for you.” Elecia frowned down at the Eastern woman, but didn’t pull her hand away.
“Don’t leave me alone, please.” Vhalla bowed her head again. Larel, she wanted Larel. She wanted to feel safe and warm and unconditionally loved. She wanted Larel.
“Lie down,” Elecia sighed and sat. The woman didn’t offer her any further comfort. She didn’t whisper soothing words or wipe Vhalla’s tears away. But she stayed until the Deep Sleep took effect, and Vhalla’s mind was finally forced to shut down. And Elecia never untwined her fingers from the grieving Easterner.
Vhalla stirred some time later when she was lifted into someone’s arms. The momentary panic was quickly quelled the second she felt his warmth, heard his matching heartbeat slow and strong through his chest. Aldrik carried her off the chaise to the bed, settling her beneath the covers.
She whimpered pitifully. It hurt so much to be awake after sleep had been so blissfully void of everything. The bed sagged as he curled around her.
“Aldrik,” Vhalla murmured, pressing herself into him.
“My Vhalla,” he sighed heavily. “Sleep, it’s not yet dawn.”
Vhalla shook her head, earning another sigh. She needed to know what had happened. Cracking open her eyes, she was met with an exhausted shadow of the prince she knew. Dark circles perched upon his cheeks, taking up residence under his tired eyes. His hair was limp and tangled. She saw the makings of a bruise on his jaw that she wasn’t sure she wanted to know how he got.
“Aldrik.” One of the larger remaining pieces of her heart cracked and fractured at the sight of him. It was her fault, it was her fault he looked as he did; she had put him in this position.
“Sleep. You need your rest,” he insisted again. No matter the state of his appearance, his voice was calm and level.
Vhalla pried herself away. “Don’t you care?”
“What?”
“Larel, Larel is dead and I killed her!” Vhalla’s words were wet with tears. “Don’t you care?”
Aldrik pulled himself into a seated position, staring down at her. “Don’t I care?” he breathed sharply.
She could hear the quivering tension he barely controlled. Vhalla instantly regretted her words but he spoke too quickly for her to revoke them.