“I know why.”
“Why?” he pressed.
“To win you your war.” She didn’t even bother with the nonsense of atoning for her crimes. Serien—Vhalla—wondered if he had decided her fate the moment he laid eyes on the whirlwind.
“Yes, very good.” He began walking once more. “They said you were smart.”
There was a predatory glint to his eyes that had Serien’s hands balling into fists.
“Do you know who ‘they’ are?” the Emperor asked.
“Who?” She tried to stand to her fullest height so that he had less of a distance from which to look down at her.
“My eldest son.” The gauntlet was thrown.
Serien’s blood boiled. That’s what this was about. “He is very smart, my lord.”
“Usually,” the Emperor murmured as he inspected her from head to toe. She already knew she wouldn’t measure up. “Speaking of him, our two groups will merge again after the pass, during the final leg of the trip.”
Serien struggled to keep her face neutral; she was sure she failed. The Emperor continued to stare her down. “Is that why you called me here, my lord? To tell me that?”
The Emperor chuckled in amusement at her bold front. “No, I simply wanted to thank you for your attentiveness. It is good to know that when you focus on your duty that you are, indeed, not useless.”
“Thank you.” She took a step away, feigning the dismissal that wasn’t in his voice.
“Oh, and Miss Yarl.” She paused. “I recommend you keep that focus where it should be, on making it to the front and giving me my victory. I will not tolerate your entertaining girlish fantasies or misplaced notions.”
Serien clenched her hands into fists so tightly that the straps on her gauntlets threatened to break. She grit her teeth and set her jaw. She heard his threats loud and clear.
“Do you understand me?” The Emperor’s voice was deathly quiet.
“Perfectly.”
The conversation lingered with Serien as she stormed through camp back to her hideaway. It played on repeat through her mind as she struggled to find a position comfortable enough to sleep in. And, when she did fall asleep, the Emperor greeted her in her dreams...
The Emperor sat next to her. No, not her. Vhalla pulled herself away from Aldrik’s dream form. His face was hard, and fire lit his eyes. She followed the line of his attention and saw herself, part ethereal and part concrete, in an all too familiar cage. She was huddled and shaking, blood dripping from the back of her head along her jaw and onto the floor. The strength that sparked in her brown eyes was a shadow play, it lacked true substance behind it. That much was apparent, not only to her, but to the man whose memory she was occupying.
His hand balled so tightly into a fist that the skin had gone ghostly from lack of blood. It was impossible for Vhalla to have seen from across the courtroom during the original trial but his jaw was clenched to the extent that his face shook and trembled. The Emperor was speaking, but to Aldrik’s ears the words were blurred over the rush of hot anger in his head.
Aldrik’s emotions radiated clearly, unfiltered through the Joining-induced memory, as he left the courtroom. He couldn’t look at her. If he looked at her he would break. If he looked at her they would all know his worry on her behalf.
The moment the doors to Imperial quarters closed behind him and his family, Aldrik increased his strides, doubling the distance between him and his father. Vhalla could feel his magic trembling and pulsing with an undeniable need—a need to get to her.
“Aldrik,” the Emperor called.
He froze, turning. His face was expressionless, but she could feel the tornado of emotion ripping through his chest. The sight of his father filled him with panic.
“I need you in the war council; the North is getting too bold, and we will need to counter this aggression with force.”
“I will be there shortly,” Aldrik replied stiffly.
“You will come now.” The Emperor’s tone was casual enough, but something dangerous shone through his eyes.
She could feel Aldrik gather his courage, a strange thing she never thought the man known as the Fire Lord would need to do. “Clearly the guard’s definition of care is lacking,” Aldrik’s voice dripped venom. “I plan to educate them.”
“That is not your concern.” The Emperor waved the notion away, starting down a different hall.
“It is.” Desperation flooded Aldrik’s chest and overflowed into hers. “I told you, she can win you your war. I am merely protecting our interests.”
“Which is why I didn’t have the monster killed before she saw the light of day again.” The Emperor paused, glancing at his son. “The Empire’s interests, Aldrik?”
“Always for the greater good of our Empire.” The words were rehearsed. They’d been said so many times they spewed from Aldrik’s mouth without thought, completely void of emotion. They were so hollow that Vhalla could sense the dam that trembled in the prince, holding back a plea of, let me go to her. “You do not want her to die, Father. I told you, I can train her, mold her—”
“Right, right.” The Emperor turned to Baldair, who Vhalla had almost completely forgotten was there. “Baldair, fetch a cleric to tend to Aldrik’s pet.”
“Father...” Baldair frowned.
“Thank you.” The Emperor completely ignored the disapproving tones in his younger son’s voice.
Aldrik continued to stand silently as the Emperor walked away. Vhalla felt his resignation. She knew his acceptance of a deeper truth that, despite all his wants, he couldn’t go to the woman he wished to be nearest to.
“Baldair,” Aldrik whispered once the Emperor was just far enough away.
“What do you want?” Vhalla felt a twinge of disappointment in Aldrik toward the disgust that laced Baldair’s words.
“Go to her yourself,” Aldrik demanded.
“What?”
“Go to her yourself, damn it,” Aldrik hissed. “You owe me.”
“I don’t owe you anything.” Baldair crossed his arms on his chest.
“What happened to being the noble knight who proclaims protection of the weak and innocent?” Aldrik sneered. Vhalla felt his satisfaction when he saw Baldair’s expression change. The prince knew just what words to say to goad his brother in the direction he wanted. “You owe me for the last six Elixirs of the Moon I pilfered from the clerics without their noticing. Unless you’d like me to reconsider that arrangement.”
“Fine, but not for you,” Baldair huffed. “For the girl.”
“Fine.” Aldrik strode off, satisfied for the moment. His father was a few steps ahead and seemingly oblivious to the muffled exchange. Aldrik clenched and unclenched his fists.
He damned everything he ever loved. How could he have even thought being near her could end well? How could he have let himself blur the lines with the girl so far?
The questions radiated through Aldrik’s mind and into Vhalla’s consciousness as he stormed through the hall. A chair burst into flame by him, an outburst of emotion that couldn’t be tamed. Aldrik scowled at it and extinguished the fire.