“It’s not
that
bad,” Daniel insisted.
Vhalla stared at the prince until he yielded an explanation, “I’ve been around the Court for too long. Just know there really are vipers.”
Daniel escorted an apprehensive Vhalla through a short series of outer hallways and then across a lavish series of gardens to the building in which Court was held. Vhalla knew of the place conceptually, but she’d never had reason to explore it before.
She knew instantly what Baldair had meant about dressing once she saw the nobles strolling into the building. Lucky enough for her, it wasn’t the first time she’d worn unconventional attire to a noble function. Vhalla adjusted her black robes proudly and squeezed Daniel’s arm tightly as they crossed the threshold of the Imperial Court.
They were noticed within seconds. Clipped whispers echoed through the assembled nobles, and the hum of conversation was quickly snuffed. Curiosity, fear, resentment, admiration, the expressions they gave her crossed the spectrum.
And were no different than what she was used to receiving.
Daniel cleared his throat. “I’d like to have the honor of presenting the Lady Vhalla Yarl to the Court.”
The expected convention observed, the first man stepped forward to play his role. “May the sun shine brightly on your house, Lady Yarl.”
The next person said some similar equivalent, the person after said another. Vhalla feared they’d have to go through every person assembled, but Daniel explained later that the ten or so nobles who greeted her were the heads of some of the oldest families on the continent. Naturally, not every noble family was in attendance. Court wasn’t a mandatory function, but nobility often had little else to do to pass the hours and were kept happy and complacent toward the Empire by milling about and gossiping with each other.
“Vhalla, I’m glad you’re here,” Daniel spoke the moment they were free of the initial party that was brave enough to break the ice with the Windwalker. “I did a lot of thinking after the North . . .”
“I did too,” Vhalla said quickly. His expression mirrored her heart and Vhalla was inclined to spare them any awkward moments. “It’s good to be home.”
Whatever home had now become.
“Speaking of home, I have something I want to show you.”
“What is it?” Vhalla tried to decipher his cryptic words.
“Lady Yarl.” A man interrupted their conversation before Daniel had time to elaborate. “I heard word of your ordeal in the West. Appalling, really, that Lord Ophain allows those zealots to run so freely.”
Vhalla turned to face the Western man, trying to gauge his sincerity. “Lord Ophain does what he can. He’s worked to make it clear where the West now stands toward Windwalkers.”
“And where do you think that is?” The man gave her a slow smile.
“I think—”
Another hush fell over the crowd, and Vhalla was stilled by the man and girl standing, hand in hand, in the back doorway to the large hall. Vhalla tried to look at anything else. She tried to look at the vaulted ceiling with carved archways. She tried to look at the patterns the stained glass printed on the alabaster floor. She tried to look back at the lord and strike a conversation.
But she was trapped, her eyes focused on the hand wrapped in Aldrik’s.
She had seen the princess before. She’d stood on the Sunlit Stage upon Vhalla’s return. But she might as well have been half a world away from Aldrik then. Now she stood poised and tense at his side, and in them Vhalla saw the future Emperor and Empress.
She wanted to leave. She didn’t want to see anymore. She didn’t want to confront the mess his perfect façade created in her heart.
Aldrik scanned the crowd and his lips parted to speak, freezing halfway open the second his attention found her. She saw his confusion at her presence, a similar feeling to the panic she was already drowning in.
The nobles missed nothing and hastily pointed out the awkward exchange between the prince and the newest lady.
“Prince Aldrik, so good of you to join us today! The Lady Yarl was presented by the Lord Taffl earlier,” came a voice that broke the silence with malicious excitement, the same Western man whom she’d been speaking to a moment before.
“Lady Yarl,” the prince’s lips formed her name with such precision that it sent a shiver up Vhalla’s spine. “It is an honor to have you as a member of this Court.”
The words were stiff and formal, but his eyes were alive.
“Thank you, my—” Her voice wavered as she caught herself before she could use her former term of endearment. Aldrik’s eyes widened a fraction, and she could hear him hold his breath. “Prince Aldrik.”
Disappointment attempted to pull his shoulders down.
What did he want from her?
What did he think would happen?
“I believe this is the first time the Lady Yarl has met the future Empress,” a woman tittered. “She wasn’t there for the presentation of our dear prince’s betrothed during the Festival of the Sun.”
Vhalla’s hand went to her neck. Baldair had been right; these people were awful. She sought him out, and the younger prince looked on helplessly.
“Lady Yarl,
Hero of the North
, why don’t you introduce yourself to your future ruler?” the woman suggested.
Vhalla was tempted to show them all exactly how she’d gotten the title of the Hero of the North. She’d reaped destruction and rained hellfire upon her enemies. Vhalla straightened, holding herself taller. But she’d also earned her title and freedom by playing this noble game.
If they wanted her to play, then she would show them how to play to win.
All eyes were fixed on the Windwalker as she crossed the room to the prince and princess. Her feet echoed across the floor, the only thing breaking the silence. Vhalla swallowed her frantically fluttering heart. She would do not only what she had to do, but what was right, what she wanted to do.
“Princess—” Vhalla didn’t even know the girl’s name and was forced to leave it as such. The young royal pursed her lips slightly, but didn’t betray any other emotions. In that way, perhaps she was a fitting match for Aldrik. Vhalla was honestly loathe to think it. “You truly grace us with your presence.”
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.
T
HE 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.”