“You will be fine,” Vhalla insisted bravely.
The outer door opened and closed again. Aldrik appeared in the inner doorway before anything else could be said.
He brought a tray, setting it down on his brother’s lap. “Will this do?”
“It’s perfect.” She nodded, appraising the soup and small roll of bread. “Now, Baldair, will you eat this or do I need to force feed it to you?”
“I’ll eat, I’ll eat,” he chuckled.
The golden prince ate slowly, and Vhalla and Aldrik both had to push him toward the end. But eventually the whole bowl and bread were consumed. He complained about it sitting uncomfortably, but Vhalla told him to stop moaning about what would make him better. It was followed up with a firm order to eat all of whatever the clerics put before him from then on, no matter how he felt. She could imagine the clerics going soft on the prince when he needed to be pushed.
They helped him lie back once more. The older brother supported the younger as she situated the pillows. Aldrik produced a potion for the cough, and Baldair took it without question. It coated his throat and took effect almost instantly. Baldair was asleep within a few minutes, and Vhalla suspected there might have also been deep sleep potion in the now empty vial.
Vhalla and Aldrik sat for a while, watching the golden prince rest.
“How is he?”
Vhalla turned her attention to the elder prince at his question. He was hunched over, his elbows on his thighs, his hands folded.
“When . . .” Vhalla took a deep breath, forcing herself to be brave. “When my mother fell ill, it took a week for the blood to set in. He’s not far.” She reached for the cloth, showing Aldrik.
“After the blood?” He looked from his brother’s red-tinged mucus to her.
“My mother.” She glanced back to the golden haired prince. “Three days.” She reached out to Baldair, placing her palm on his forehead lightly. “But she did not have clerics like you do here. Her fever was much higher by this point. We didn’t have a lot of good food either. If the clerics can keep the fever low, and he eats to keep his strength, I know he will fight it.”
Vhalla looked back to Aldrik. He had his face hidden in one hand, the other on his knee. Silent suffering summed him up so woefully perfectly. Her hand hovered in the air a brief moment before Vhalla brushed the skin on the back of the hand on his leg with her fingertips.
Aldrik’s face snapped up. His gaze was uncertain, but he did not move his hand away. The crown prince’s whole body was still and tense. Vhalla’s fingers slid and curled in a reassuring motion. His hand closed around hers with sudden force, and they did nothing but look at each other.
“I won’t leave again,” she whispered. “Whatever ill fate awaits us; I’ll wait for it with you.”
“I want you with me, always.” His other hand caressed the chain on her neck. “Even if you never need me again in the same way, I need you.”
His fingertips paused, the metal of the watch the only thing separating his hand from her chest. Aldrik took a deep breath. “I want to start over. Before the heartbreak, the anger, before the foolish words that were said, and before you knew the man I used to be.” His dark eyes pleaded with her, his voice breathy beneath his mask. “I want to go back to a time when I could teach you magic. I want the chance to treat you as I always should have.”
“I don’t think it works that way.” Her own mask hid her tired smile.
“We can make our own way; we always have.” Aldrik cupped her cheek boldly, and Vhalla didn’t stop him. “What have we to lose?”
“Everything?”
“Is that all?” His eyes were alight.
Vhalla gave into that joy for only a moment. Baldair wheezed in his sleep, reminding her where they were, what was happening. Her expression fell as she considered the ailing prince.
“Aldrik, promise me one thing.”
“Anything.”
“If anything ever happens to me . . .” She remembered Baldair’s words. How if she left Aldrik, and Baldair didn’t pull through, their future Emperor would be truly alone.
His hands suddenly gripped her shoulders, and the prince was half out of the chair, staring at her with a shocking intensity. “Nothing will happen to you.” Aldrik looked right through her, and Vhalla had no idea what he saw, but it terrified him. “I will not let it happen.”
“Aldrik . . .” Her brow furrowed in confusion, trying to figure out the source of the man’s panic.
He took a deep breath and seemed to remember himself once more. “I-I’m sorry.” Aldrik let her go quickly and rubbed his eyes.
“When was the last time you slept?” Vhalla asked him, standing.
“I catch some sleep when the clerics are in with him.”
Vhalla translated the Aldrik-speak to mean that it had been a long time. “Rest,” she demanded. “I’ll sit with Baldair ‘til dawn.”
She pushed Aldrik lightly toward the other room. Thankfully, he did not give much of a struggle, and he allowed her to herd him toward the couch he used as his makeshift bed during his brother’s illness. Aldrik laid down, pulling off his cloth mask, and dropping it onto the floor. Hooking a finger, she lowered her mask to drop around her neck since she would need it again in a moment. Vhalla situated the blanket over him.
“My prince,” she dropped to a knee at the side of the couch. Aldrik turned to look at her. Neither seemed to mind her method of addressing him. Vhalla resisted the urge to touch his face. She ignored the desire to run her fingers through his hair. “I don’t wish we could start over. Everything that happened, we made mistakes, but-but we loved, and I don’t regret that.”
His hand reached up and took hers at the edge of the blanket. His fingers intertwined with hers, and Vhalla’s heart stuck in her throat as she watched them lace together. “Fight at my side again?”
Vhalla nodded, not finding her voice. She didn’t know in what capacity he meant, but she could guess.
“I will be better. I will never push you away again,” he whispered.
“I’ll never let you,” Vhalla laughed softly.
“I vow to honor my promise to you, Vhalla.”
Her free hand rose to her watch, a look that affirmed she understood the promise he meant—his promise of a future together. “And I will mine.” Their promises still meant something.
Vhalla sat with him until his breathing slowed and his body relaxed. Her fingers remained entwined with his, and she watched him sleep. Maybe they would never again be the lovers they were—maybe they’d become something better. They’d both grown apart, and maybe they’d grown into the people they should’ve been all along.
Love was a simple emotion, Vhalla had learned. Once one experienced it, a person understood it, and there was no doubt when one felt it. If there was no doubt, then nothing would ever serve as a substitute.
Vhalla knew she understood love. Love was throwing herself into a sandstorm. Love was braving her darkest fears and battling her demons. Love was a blind dash through a Northern jungle. Love was hopeful words shared across a pillow in the darkness. Love was bravery and—perhaps most importantly—forgiveness.
VHALLA AWOKE BRIEFLY as her body was pulled against Aldrik’s chest. She felt his arm slide around her shoulders, the other slip under her knees. The sensation of weightlessness fluttered across her stomach as he hoisted her easily into the air.
With her head tucked in the crook of his neck, he carried her from where she had fallen asleep at her post in Baldair’s room into the main sitting area. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but she had underestimated her continuing exhaustion from extensive crystal work. At least she was a light sleeper and could have easily woken to action if Baldair had a fit or needed something.