Air Awakens Book One (33 page)

“Why do you want to know? Going to make another attempt on his life?” The man looked at her queerly.

“What?” she exclaimed in shock. “No! I want to know if he is all right!”

“To my knowledge the prince is alive and well.”

Vhalla let out a large sigh and rested her forehead against a bar. It was cool on her flushed skin. Aldrik was alive and safe. She must have passed out, and he overpowered them somehow.

“Thank the Mother,” Vhalla breathed before a choked strangle escaped at the memory of her friends who had not made it. Her moment was interrupted by the clip of two pairs of boots down the hallway.

“Yes, she just woke.” It was rat man from earlier. She tried to listen carefully to hear the other set of footsteps. They fell heavy. It wasn’t her prince. Aldrik would come soon. He’d sort this out and she’d be on her way. Vhalla looked up as the men stopped before her cell. Anyone, she would take anyone over the man who stood before her.

Egmun grinned gleefully down at her, and her blood curdled. He wore his golden senatorial chain over a blue robe.

“Well, I can’t say I am entirely surprised to meet you here.” He picked lint off his sleeve nonchalantly. Vhalla stared at him blankly. “It was only a matter of time.” Losing interest in his clothing, he approached the door of her cage, his words as slow and deliberate as his movements.

“You common folk are attracted to the glamor of noble life like—like a moth to a
flame,
” he said with a wicked smile. “So sad you often fly too close and simply burn away.”

Vhalla couldn’t keep her face from dropping into a frown as he spoke. She was growing to detest everything about this man, and every time he opened his mouth, he succeeded in reminding her why. He was smart, and she quickly realized that it made him dangerous.

“What do you want with me?” she asked, attempting to force her voice to stay as level as possible, to not betray any fear or panic.

“Oh, it’s nothing
I
want with you. I honestly just want you to crawl back under the rock you came from and never come out again. But, well, you made that difficult for yourself when you attacked the crown prince.” He put his hands in the air before dropping them. “Now, we will need to see you properly punished for your transgressions.”

“What?” Vhalla’s voice rose sharply. “I didn’t—”

“Denials?” the senator hissed. “You must sing a different song before the trial.”

“But I didn’t
do anything
.” Vhalla repeated.

“Guards,” Egmun sighed. “I think our prisoner may need her memory jarred.”

Rat and Mole exchanged a look Vhalla had a difficult time reading before they started for the cell door. The moment the door opened and the two armored men entered Vhalla knew it hadn’t been a good look. Vhalla put as much distance between her and the men as the cell would allow, ignoring the screaming pain in her shoulder.

These men were there to protect her. But they stared down at her with the same look of contempt the Northerners had.

“Don’t...” Vhalla whimpered out of instinct.

“Denials still?” the senator hummed, leaning against the wall beyond.

Mole heard a command that Vhalla hadn’t in Egmun’s voice and his fist was in her hair. She cried out in agony, grabbing at his tense wrists as he practically lifted her off the floor. The man threw her against the wall and the back of her head cracked loudly.

She slumped, blinking away stars in a blurry daze. Mole was on her again before she had time to decide which of the four of him was real. His boot connected with her stomach, again and again. She tried to lift her hand to blow them away with magic, but no sorcery crackled beneath her fingertips. There wasn’t even time to panic as Mole stomped upon the appendage, the bones crunching. Vhalla didn’t feel the next strike to her ribs; she could only feel the dirt and gravel covering the floor pressed against her cheek.

“Do you remember now?” Egmun called.

“Why?” she wheezed.
Why were they doing this?

Rat picked her up by the front of her dress. The sound of the seams exploding as he pommeled a fist into her face were louder than her screams or cries for help. The garment could only endure two strikes before tearing and Vhalla fell onto the floor in an undignified heap wearing nothing but her underclothes.

Her consciousness was smaller than a pin by the time their beating ended. She existed in such a tiny portion of her mind that the outside world was only tangible through echoes. Yet, somehow, their cruel words still made it to her fracturing psyche.

“That’s sufficient, I should think. Unfortunately we cannot take the Empire’s justice.” Egmun walked to the entrance of the cell. “Remember this. For I will. This is how I will always see you, worthless trash.”

She blinked up at him, unmoving, unflinching. Hatred had always been described in her books like fire, a hot and uncontrollable inferno. This hatred felt like ice. It numbed her empathy and sharpened her resolve to survive at any and all costs if for no other reason than to spite him.

Egmun took a slow breath; as though he could feel the daggers she was mentally flaying him with. “Now get dressed.” He tossed a burlap sack atop her and left the cell.

Vhalla’s limbs barely heeded her demands for movement and sitting was agony. Phantom pains from her fall seeped from fractured bones and torn tissues. The sack she had been bestowed had some slits cut into it for her arms and head and Vhalla crawled into it with as much dignity as she could muster.

She had endured worse
. The once library apprentice struggled to her feet. She had survived a fall from the palace spires and warriors from the North. Her limbs trembled with pain and fear as Vhalla reminded herself of those facts and faced the three men.

Mole grabbed her and yanked her forward. Vhalla stumbled and cried, instantly hating herself for it. She hated them and she hated her treacherous body for feeling the pain caused by them. His hand dug into her shoulder, and she felt a drip trail down her back. Rat retrieved shackles and bound her hands and feet together. The last fastenings to her sanity were snapping, and they sounded like a raspy laugh.

“As if I can run.” She smiled madly at Egmun.

This sudden emotional contrast almost seemed to shake his perfect poise. He adjusted his robes and said nothing before starting down the hall. Rat and Mole practically carried her as they held her up with each arm.

It was after a short flight of stairs upward when Egmun left them. They walked the rest of the way in silence. A numbing chill crept from her extremities inward.
Sareem was dead
. The blood dripping from her skull reminded Vhalla of his shattered face. Roan likely was too. The prince had somehow lived, but Vhalla expected him to blame her—rightfully—for everything he shouldn’t have had to endure. The pendulum of her emotions swung far into guilt. It was her fault. All of this was her fault. She was suddenly laughing again.

Why was losing her whole life so
funny
?

“Shut up,” Rat hissed, slapping her across the face.

Her craze left her, and she hung limply. Blood dripped down her chin, adding to the trail she left on the stairs they were ascending. They opened a door, and threw her into a brightly lit room. She hit the floor with an ungraceful clank of chains, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the light.

She had been thrown into a square cage welded into the wall behind her on all sides. Rat and Mole assumed guard duty to the left and right of the door. There was no other visible entrance into this section of the room, her temporary prison.

To her far left was a different door and empty seating. To the right stared thirteen people, Egmun at their center. The senators had been lined up neatly in two rows. Before them on the floor in the center of the room was a dais made of a golden sun. Across was a raised area with three seats—no, not seats: thrones.

In the smallest throne to the Emperor’s left sat Prince Baldair; it was the first time she’d ever seen him without a smile. In the middle sat the Emperor, his expression unreadable. On his right, was a face she knew well. Vhalla choked back a sob of relief at seeing Aldrik alive. She shut her eyes before she could see whatever was written on his features. She didn’t want him here; she didn’t want him to see her like this. She who had killed her friends and endangered his life didn’t deserve his gaze, even if it held justified anger.

The Emperor raised a large staff and brought it down onto the floor three times. The sound of metal on stone echoed through the silent hall.

“I, Emperor Solaris, on behalf of the Mother, call this special trial to order. Senate Head Elect?”

Egmun stood, and Vhalla kept herself from screaming the worst obscenities she could imagine.

“Vhalla Yarl, we the Senate have charged you with recklessness, endangerment of your fellow citizens, public destruction, impersonating nobility, heresy, murder, and treason in an attempt on the life of the Crown Prince Aldrik.”

Vhalla opened her eyes weakly and dared to find the man whom she was said to have attempted to kill. Aldrik sat unmoving; he may as well have been carved from stone.

“How do you cry?”

Vhalla’s world slowed as she waited for the prince to make a movement. She wanted him to stand, to smile, to tell Egmun he was wrong. But Aldrik did nothing.

Vhalla thought about the idea of pleading guilty. They would kill her and this would all end. All the pain that her body and mind were steeped in would be gone. There would be no more choices, no more princes, and no more senators. If she was lucky, they would make this temporary prison her tomb, striking her down before she returned to the cell with Rat and Mole. Vhalla closed her eyes with a sigh, taking a ragged breath.

“Vhalla Yarl, how do you cry?” Egmun repeated.

No
, Vhalla sat straighter, pulling her shoulders back despite the pain of the irons around her wrists. If she was to be judged, then let her be judged by the ones who she had wronged. Aldrik’s eyes glittered with a barely contained inferno. She would endure his judgment, and Roan’s, and someday Sareem’s. Vhalla may have been a sheltered library girl and she may be a yet-realized sorcerer, but she would not allow Egmun—or anyone—to turn her into a coward.

“Not guilty.” Her voice was raw. Vhalla turned to Egmun and his mouth twisted in annoyance. “Senators, I cry not guilty.”

T
HE REST OF
the first trial day was spent detailing her crimes and explaining how the verdict would be reached. The next day would be the start of evidence, people speaking on her behalf, witnesses, and testimony on the Senate’s side. Vhalla wondered if Aldrik would be speaking for her; he was the only true witness she could think of. The third day Vhalla would answer their questions and speak for herself. Then, the last day, she would not be present until they had reached their verdict.

“Vhalla Yarl, it has been determined that you woke as a sorcerer months ago,” Egmun started. Vhalla felt her mouth drop open. “In this time, you have not reported to the Tower of the Sorcerers for training and restriction. Nor have you been Eradicated, allowing your powers to run wild and dangerous.

“In doing so, these powers have progressed so far that they have destroyed public property and likely contributed to the death of multiple citizens.”

A chill ran down her spine. The death of multiple citizens? She’d killed someone? Blood dripped down her neck from her head and oozed from the wound in her shoulder as she struggled to find some memory that would make the senator’s words truth.

“Some also consider your powers to be a form of heresy against the Mother,” Egmun continued.

“There’s a reason why we killed them all!” a Western senator shouted. “They’re twisted, evil. Give it to the Knights of Jadar, they will know what to do!” He was on his feet raging at Vhalla.

She looked at him numbly.

“Silence!” Emperor’s voice echoed across the room. “Head Elect, please continue.”

“This almost pales in comparison to an attempt on the life of the future Emperor Solaris, an attempted murder on our Crown Prince Aldrik.” Egmun gave a small bow in the direction of the prince.

Aldrik’s expression remained unchanged. Pain and fury were burning in the aura around him, but his eyes had a restrained coolness in the brief moments he allowed himself to glance at her. Whatever the truth was, he did not really think she had attempted to harm him.

But what had happened?
She was on trial for a whole list of things. These men and women looked at her as though she was a rabid animal. The hatred she was drawing strength from was still strong, but her spine was weak and began to curl as tears fell from her cheeks.

They were talking again, arguing over this or that but all it sounded like noise to Vhalla’s ringing ears. She was tired. These people clearly did not care what happened to her. No, they cared, but what they cared about was seeing her dead.

Vhalla opened her eyes and looked at Aldrik, his head had turned slightly to listen to whatever discussion was now occurring, but he took no part.

Vhalla wanted to blame him. Had it not been for him, none of this would have happened. If it wasn’t for him, her magical powers would’ve never Manifested, she would’ve never been involved with the Tower, and she would still be blissfully unaware of one senator’s name.