No one moved a muscle.
“Your poise in the face of those who have committed such transgressions against your home is beyond your years.” Murmurs swept through the room. “Your poise in the face of the people who no doubt gossip over the massacre of your innocent people, as though it were sport, is a grace that I clearly cannot command!”
“Treason!”
“Truth!” The word was as fast as a whip from her lips, and it silenced the noble who had interrupted her. Vhalla turned back to the girl, her expressionless mask cracking with shock. Vhalla pressed her eyes closed with a sigh. “If this is the grace by which you will rule, then the Mother has smiled upon the Solaris Empire with your union.”
Vhalla braved a look at Aldrik. The prince wavered between the look he got when he was about to tell her off, and when he wanted to sweep her into his arms and kiss her until she saw stars. Vhalla took a cautionary step away.
“My presence is likely uncomfortable for you, so I will excuse myself and set the example for any who seek to foster rifts in our Empire, an Empire for peace now, by leaving.”
Vhalla turned and didn’t look back. She strode out the Court’s meeting hall and into the sunlight. She walked, hands clenched, until she was out of eyeshot and then broke out into a run. Her lungs burned from the sudden sprint, and her eyes stung. Aldrik, Aldrik, Aldrik, her heart screamed. What had she done?
Vhalla slowed to a stop, sighing. She’d heard the footsteps not long after she’d left the Court and turned, expecting to tell Daniel not to worry so much. Vhalla froze, face to face with an emerald-eyed Northern woman.
“Gwaeru.” It was fitting that the first word she spoke to Vhalla was the same word that had confirmed that this woman had tried to shoot her down in the North.
“Za,” Vhalla replied tensely.
“You know my name?”
“I do.”
“You know who I am?”
“I do.” At least, Vhalla could assume the woman was here as some guard for the princess. “I didn’t see you in the Court.”
“You not notice a fire in room if Fire Lord not start it.” Za’s Southern common was broken, but the meaning was still clear enough to convey her message.
“What do you want?” Vhalla asked tensely.
“Sehra wish to meet.”
“Sehra?” Vhalla put it together after only a second. “The princess?”
“Child of Yargen.” Za corrected, setting Vhalla’s mind to whirring around anything she knew as to the significance of the title.
“Why in the name of the Mother would she want to meet me?” Vhalla asked cautiously.
“She has deal.”
“What kind of a deal?”
“Meet tonight. Same place.” Za started back for the hall of the Imperial Court.
Vhalla went to call for Za as she disappeared in a side alcove.
“Vhalla!” Daniel broke the moment, jogging up to her. Vhalla glanced between the Eastern man and where Za had disappeared. He watched her attention shift. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” Vhalla mumbled.
Daniel escorted her back to the Tower, apologizing for what happened and explaining how his first day at Court was nothing short of magical. He could’ve made all the excuses in the world, but they wouldn’t make Vhalla forget what had transpired, and they wouldn’t make her any more interested in returning.
At least, not when Court was in session.
THE PALACE GROUNDS were quiet, the fall night air nearly freezing. Vhalla wore the cloak made for her in Tim’s village to stave off the chill. It was hardly subtle, but if she was walking into a trap, then it didn’t really matter anyway.
She stared up at the Court Hall, as silent as a tomb and equally warm. In just a short hour, it had made an astonishingly negative impression on her, to the point that she’d lost all interest in ever returning. Well, returning for any conventional reasons.
Vhalla clenched her fists and opened her Channel; if they meant to attack her, she wouldn’t be going down without a fight. The door swung open easily and silently on well-greased hinges. Vhalla stepped inside, catching sight of the small candle that cast a faint glow on the two women sitting in the far corner of the hall.
Both of their heads turned, and Za stood from where she had been busy fletching arrows, sending scraps of feathers and wood fluttering like tiny sprites in the candlelight. The Princess Sehra didn’t stand, she merely turned, watching Vhalla warily. She was garbed in a loose and warm looking dress, reminiscent of patterns that Vhalla had seen on the Northern warriors’ tabards, rather than the Southern fashions she’d been wearing in court.
“You come alone?” Za called.
“I have.” Vhalla didn’t move far from the door, ready to run if needed. Though she didn’t really know what these two women could do to hurt her. Vhalla outclassed them both in combat—unless they had some secret prowess Vhalla didn’t know about—and they were severely outnumbered in the South. Vhalla suspected that the Southern people would jump on any excuse to remove a Northerner from their throne.
“What do you want?”
“I have a deal for you.” The girl’s Southern Common was elegant, simple. Her voice was gentle and bright, like morning dew.
“What could you possible want with me?”
“Sit, share our light, and I will tell.” Sehra motioned to the circle of light the candle cast on the floor.
Cautiously, Vhalla crossed the room, sitting on the outer edge. Za sat stiffly as well, close to her princess.
“You know who I am, what I am.” Vhalla didn’t want to mince words. “You know what I’ve done against your home, your people.”
“I do,” Sehra affirmed. Her eyes flashed dangerously in the candlelight. “And for it, I hate you deeper than any I have ever hated before.”
“You didn’t call me here to tell me that.” If the girl had meant to wound Vhalla, she should start by saying something that Vhalla couldn’t already assume.
“No, but I don’t want you to think you will make an easy friend in me.” As Sehra spoke, Za shifted closer to the princess, her hands busy fletching arrows in as threatening a manner as possible.
“That would never be something I’d be confused about.” Vhalla shook her head. “Though I harbor no ill will toward you and your people. The Empire invaded you without cause, no matter what is said here.”
“Not without cause,” Sehra corrected. “You know the cause.”
Vhalla met the girl’s green eyes, suddenly seeing a woman much older than her years staring back.
“Perhaps.” Vhalla wasn’t going to be the first one to bring up the axe.
“Do not lie,” Sehra scolded. “I can sense the magic on you. You have touched Achel.”
Vhalla stiffened and blinked her eyes quickly, shifting her vision into magic sight. The girl looked no different from Za, whom Vhalla knew was a Commons. Did she have a closed Channel? Had Vhalla somehow been misled that Aldrik’s bride wasn’t a sorceress?
“My mother speaks to me; she tells me the Achel has been stolen. But the Emperor rages daily for it to be given to him. It is gone, but not into the Empire’s hands. Only your hands have its shimmering remnants upon them.”
“How are you so certain?” Vhalla asked uneasily.
“I am a child of Yargen.” Sehra sat straighter at the word. “I know the old ways. I know the old magic that has long been forgotten by the southern peoples.”
“Why does Shaldan want the axe?” Vhalla hoped the question didn’t confirm or deny her possession of it.
“Because it is our history,” Sehra answered as Za shook her head in disgust at Vhalla’s question. “Because it is not yours to take, or have, or use.”