Vhalla had no argument to any of those. “You wish to use it to fight for your sovereignty?”
She couldn’t exactly fault the North for it. She personally knew what it felt like to be chained under the Emperor. She couldn’t imagine a good leader’s agony at the knowledge of their entire people being reduced in such a way.
“Not fight.” Sehra shook her head. “Make a deal for it.”
“With me?”
The princess nodded.
“What do you think I can do?” Vhalla hardly had any say in the future of the North, even less the power to give them their sovereignty.
“You hold no more love for this Empire than my people do, this much I have seen. It gives me faith for you. However, with the axe in hand, you are a danger to us as a tool of the war-hungry men who sleep in these stone walls,” Sehra said, revealing nothing Vhalla didn’t already know.
“Yet,” the princess held a long pause, “you also hold the future of Solaris in your hands.”
“How?” Vhalla frowned.
“Not hands, perhaps. Around your neck would be a better way to say it?”
Vhalla’s hand went up to the watch, buried under the cloak and layers of clothing. Vhalla knew that Sehra had never seen the token, and even if she had, there was no reason for her to be so certain as to its origin. “How did you know?”
“His heart sings for you, his eyes search for you, his magic calls for and embraces you. Even a fool could see it, and I am no fool.” Sehra raised a finger, pointing at Vhalla’s chest. “He may not even realize what he has given you.”
“What?” Vhalla’s curiosity got the better of her.
“His magic sleeps within,” Sehra was gracious enough to inform Vhalla, in not so many words, that Aldrik had given her what was well likely an unintentional vessel. “Do you deny the rumors of your involvement with the crown prince?”
Vhalla remained silent. It was an odd thing for a bride-to-be to ask about her groom. But the whole night so far had been anything but conventional.
“No . . . One who screams for truth cannot turn and deny her heart.” Sehra leaned slightly against Za. “You can have him. I give him to you.”
“What?” Vhalla blinked.
“You cry for an Empire of peace; here is your chance, Vhalla Yarl.” Sehra narrowed her eyes slightly, a challenge carried in her words. “Give me Achel. Let me return the weapon to its tomb to await its true master’s return. I will disappear, return to my home from your frigid, barren mountaintop. The North will write me off as dead so long as the Empire relinquishes its hold on my people.”
Vhalla processed this for a moment, and somehow managed to keep in insane laughter. “You want me to make a deal, that if I give you the axe and convince the Empire to give up the land the Emperor has just won at the highest price, I can be with Prince Aldrik?” She commended herself for remembering the prince’s proper title.
Sehra frowned at Vhalla’s amusement.
“You’re delusional.” Vhalla stood. As if she would ever try to bargain for Aldrik’s heart. Vhalla ignored that part and focused on one of the many other reasons why the girl’s proposal wouldn’t work. “There’s no way the Empire could, or would, let go of Shaldan now. To do so would admit failure, which no one will do.”
“And I thought you were different, that you had reason and a sense of justice.”
“Those are luxuries we cannot afford. We’re all trying to survive in a world that doesn’t give a damn about reason or justice, so learn well, princess.” Vhalla sighed. “Even if I wanted to take your deal, I’d never be with the crown prince. The Emperor would refuse it. Nothing is ever that simple.”
Za engaged in a quick series of harsh words punctuated with nasty glances at Vhalla. Sehra nodded a few times, frowned, and held up her hand.
“Then help us kill the Emperor.”
Vhalla’s head jerked around instinctually at the deeply treasonous words, looking for someone to spring from the shadows and lock her up. She returned her attention to the princess once it was clear no one else had been in the empty hall for hours. Vhalla clenched and unclenched her fists. She should be appalled. But the thought settled easily upon her mind. It complemented the dark history she had with the Emperor Solaris and the utter hatred she generally held for the man.
Sehra took Vhalla’s hesitation as an invitation to continue. “If the Emperor dies, then you could be with your prince, and our deal could stand.”
“Aldrik would never love someone who killed his family.” Vhalla frowned. “And I thought my dismissal would be clear, this is about more than me and him.”
“And here I thought you would be foolish enough to make a deal for love.” The princess grinned briefly before sobering once more. “You don’t need to swing the axe. Za will.”
“Then why haven’t you already?”
“You would help us escape,” Sehra explained.
Vhalla turned, finally letting out mad laughter as she started for the door. “Princess,” she called, her voice echoing through the empty space, “I realize that you are doing what you must to defend your people. But I have no interest in actually committing one of the crimes the Senate has been trying to pin on me for months.”
“If you do not help us, we will consider you our enemy.”
Vhalla paused with a sigh. “Frankly, I don’t care if I am your enemy.” She met the child princess’s eyes once more. “But if you brought a deal to me that wasn’t rooted in wishful thinking and delusions, I could be willing to help you. I meant what I said today, I hold no ill will toward your people. But I’m tired of senseless bloodshed, and that’s what your resistance would end up bringing.”
The princess didn’t like hearing this, her guard even less. Vhalla didn’t care, the truth wasn’t always easy or beautiful. Often, the only joy Vhalla had found since growing up was in spite of the truth. She left the other two women to their thoughts.
The walk back to the Tower was lonely and cold. Vhalla kept her hands under the heavy cloak, passing back the watch from fingertips to fingertips. She’d learned two things. The first was that the princess and her bodyguard were unsurprisingly mutinous against their new sovereign. The second was that she held a vessel of Aldrik’s magic, strong enough that the princess could sense it with whatever strange magic she wielded.
Now Vhalla was presented with the debate of what to tell Aldrik, if anything. Had he intended to give her a vessel? Should she tell him about Za and Sehra? Certainly he already knew . . .
Vhalla focused on the sloping floor of the Tower, counting the cracks between the stones. She paused as the ghost of light illuminated the otherwise dim hall. Vhalla turned to see a mote of fire shine through the bookshelves of the Tower library, following some late night patron.
She didn’t know if she truly believed in all the utterings of the Goddess. Of fate. Of a grander meaning to the world. But in that moment, it felt like something greater had shown her a light.
The flame reminded her of Aldrik’s, and Vhalla knew that whatever she did next, she had to somehow restore some lines of communication with the man she had once promised to marry. She had things that she needed to say and, if his expression at court was any indication, so did he.
THE MAGIC OF the axe shimmered around her fingertips, and Vhalla focused on it intensely. She delicately pulled and pried, separating the layers of foreign magic entangled around the blade. The more her own power mingled with the axe, the cleaner it became, the waves of power radiating outward.
It had been three days since she decided she needed to speak with Aldrik. Instead of seeking the prince out, she’d spent the majority of her time throwing herself into her work with Victor. It was a cheap diversion from what she really needed to do, but Vhalla could insist to herself the importance of cleansing the axe and destroying it—especially after her conversation with Za and Sehra.