Текст книги "Fire Falling "

Автор книги: Elise Kova

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

“Vhal!” Fritz threw his arms around her shoulders, nearly knocking her off her feet.

“Fritznangle,” Aldrik cautioned, taking a step toward the Southerner.

“Vhal, you were stunning! It was like the Mother banishing the night. Just this tiny little thing against that huge, massive, gigantic, storm!” Fritz babbled like a madman.

Another walked from a corner of the room, someone that Vhalla had not noticed before. Two emerald eyes assessed Vhalla thoughtfully.

“You’re one of the craziest people I’ve ever met.” Elecia placed a hand on her hip and shifted her weight to extend the other to Vhalla. “And because of that, I owe you my life.”

Vhalla reached out, clasping her bandaged palm against Elecia’s.

“Thank you, Vhalla Yarl,” Elecia uttered the most sincere words Vhalla had ever heard from her.

Vhalla was in a daze as she headed for the door. Aldrik held it open for her and she stepped out into the dawn. Red streaked across the horizon, washing a crowded square in oranges and pinks. Large buildings constructed of marble and sandstone glittered in the twilight. They sported proportionally sized pennons, reds and blacks of the West and whites and golds of the Empire. The ground beneath her was polished stone, and Vhalla looked upon the center of the world in wonder.

“That one.” Aldrik pointed to a building on the other side of the square with three large, circular stained glass windows upon its front. “Do you need me to help you?”

“No.” Vhalla shook her head. “Just knowing you’re here is enough.” She allowed him to read into it as he liked.

Vhalla had taken no more than three steps when the first member of the Black Legion noticed her. He walked over, giving her the salute of the Broken Moon. This inspired the next to come up and offer her thanks and praise. Her eyes caught Aldrik’s in confusion and wonder. He heaped silent admiration upon her, and Vhalla felt a flush rise to her cheeks.

It was slow going due to being stopped at every step. The Black Legion had been waiting at the door, but Vhalla noticed that the majority of the people in the square were soldiers. They paused what they were doing, stopping at the sight of her.

A man of rank drew the sword that was strapped to his hip. She glanced at Aldrik nervously, remembering the last time she’d encountered the swordsmen. The man brought his feet together and stood tall. His left hand went to the small of his back as he raised his sword over his chest and face in a pristine salute with his right.

She wasn’t certain what he wanted from her, and Vhalla nervously took another step. An older woman repeated the motion. Swordless, she brought her right fist to her chest in salute.

Vhalla took another step. Two more stepped forward in salute.

Every step Vhalla took there was another, and another, and another. They began to line her path, holding their salutes in reverence even after she’d moved on. Vhalla turned as the entire square—man, woman, child, soldier, and citizen—showed their own display of reverence.

“Do they always do this for you here?” Vhalla whispered to Aldrik. The attention made her nervous.

He stared at her, bewildered. “Vhalla,” Aldrik leaned close to her ear. “They are not saluting me, they are saluting you.”

No one said a word; they held their honors quietly, and their silence spoke so loudly in her ears that Vhalla wanted to cry. For the first time since becoming a sorcerer she felt a mass looking at her with respect, with praise. As much as it hurt her body, she held herself taller.

The Emperor and Prince Baldair were waiting on the outside the building Aldrik was leading her toward. Emperor Solaris surveyed the scene with his ocean-blue eyes, landing on the woman who was being led by his eldest son and saluted by his people. He folded his hands behind his back in a position that struck Vhalla as very Aldrik.

“If it is not the hero of the day.” The Emperor spoke loud enough that most of the square heard.

Vhalla dropped into a clumsy kneel, her knees popping and aching.

“My lord, thank you for your invitation,” she said respectfully, lowering her eyes.

“Stand, Vhalla Yarl. You are the most welcome savior of my army,” he commanded lightly.

Vhalla put both hands on her upward knee and struggled to stand, grimacing at the creaking in her legs. She felt much older than her eighteen years and could feel the tension radiating off Aldrik at her pain, but he made no motion. Vhalla was thankful he allowed her to do it on her own before his father and all those who had assembled.

“Come, I wish to bestow my thanks upon you.” The Emperor took a step back, and Prince Baldair held open the doors for them.

HHE BUILDING SHE entered was like a small palace. Alabaster, marble, silver, gold, and gemstones glittered everywhere. As the sun rose, it was piped in through portholes in the walls, giving the opulence new life. The Emperor led her into a side sitting room. There were couches and a table to eat at, opposite a tall, standing table cluttered with papers.

To her surprise the Emperor walked over to the table that did not hold the food. Prince Baldair walked around to his father’s right side, Aldrik hovered near her. He didn’t move until she did, her silent shadow.

“I would like to show you something.” Emperor Solaris motioned to her.

Vhalla walked over, Aldrik stood on her other side, leaving her right open to the Emperor. She assessed a large map and the Emperor pointed to a spot on the Great Imperial Way, just south of the Crossroads.

“This is where we were, when the sandstorm was upon us.” Vhalla’s eyes swung back to the Crossroads; they had been so close. As if reading her thoughts the Emperor continued, “The men at the front of the host were less than five minutes to the storm break walls.”

Vhalla stared at the map. She remembered the column running, but so many wouldn’t have made it.

“Tell me,” the Emperor asked as he stroked his beard and assessed her, “what orders would you have made?”

“Orders for?” she asked, not sure if she understood his question.

“If you were in my position, what call would you have made?”

She looked up at the man and then back to the map, taking a breath that was followed by an annoying cough at the feeling of sand in her lungs.

“Excuse me,” she mumbled. Keeping her face toward the table Vhalla tilted her head to the side. “I would have split the line.”

“Split the line?” It was Prince Baldair who asked.

Vhalla nodded. “One,” she pointed to the younger prince. “Two,” she turned to the Emperor. “Three,” she pointed to Aldrik. “Split it three ways. Keeping you central may make sense for a march; perhaps even in combat settings for protection, but for this, we’d be playing odds.”

“What odds are those?” The Emperor rested his hands on the table. Vhalla felt very short as the tabletop came up to her waist rather than her hips or lower like the taller men.

“Your lives,” she said matter-of-factly, surprised at the coolness her logic created in her voice. Prince Baldair actually had a somewhat horrified expression. Vhalla met the Emperor’s eyes. “If you three stayed at the center, you would have been in the middle of the storm, little more than a dozen horse lengths apart. If one of you died there is a great chance that whatever killed that person would kill those near him; the closer the proximity, the greater the odds of death. You three die, we all lose. If the Emperor and all heirs were suddenly lost, this realm has more than one battlefront.”

The Emperor rubbed his chin. “Go on.”

“You would all run in different directions with the fastest riders prepared to give their lives for you. It would be the best chance for survival,” Vhalla explained simply.

“You know that means half the host would be left behind on foot.” The Emperor regarded her thoughtfully.

“I know that.” She nodded. “They would be left to chance.” The word chance sounded nicer than death.

The younger prince seemed horrified, and Vhalla would have to turn to see Aldrik’s expression. The Emperor was almost too analytical in the way he seemed to calculate her words against an invisible tally. Vhalla brought her hands together, wringing them.

“You do have some intelligence to you,” the Emperor said lightly.

“My lord, if I am intelligent it is because you have filled your castle with good teachers.” She thought back to Mohned with a pang of homesickness.

“Ah, Vhalla, do not be so modest. Knowledge and power are a dangerous combination, and you appear to have both in quantity.” The Emperor turned and motioned toward the table that had been set with food.

Each person sat in turn. Aldrik pulled out her chair for her, though he didn’t offer her so much as a glance. Vhalla wondered what exactly had changed his demeanor. Clearly, whatever his concerns were they factored in calculated restraint. Aldrik sat to her right, Prince Baldair to her left, and the Emperor across.

Vhalla had not seen food so fine or a table so cluttered with silverware, glasses, and plates since she had dined with Prince Baldair back at the palace. The meal was hot and fresh and she barely managed to contain a particularly loud stomach grumble by placing a hand over her abdomen. She was careful to eat after the three royals had served themselves. Propriety was a convenient excuse. Vhalla had no idea which forks were meant to be used when or why they used a different fork for every dish—she just followed.

“This is an incredibly peculiar situation, don’t you think, Miss Yarl?” the Emperor started.

“Vhalla is fine,” she said, unsure if it was appropriate to offer. It felt weird having both of his sons call her by her first name and to have the man who sat above both of them be more formal.

He ignored her and continued, “It is not normal for someone to sit on trial for murder and treason and then dine with the Emperor only a couple months later.”

“Very few things I find in my world are what I would call normal at this moment, my lord.” She nibbled on bread, her brain continuing to obsess over being in love with the crown prince.

The Emperor chuckled. “Yet you rebound and become stronger. I knew you had strength in you when I saw you in that cage.”

Vhalla continued to try to eat politely, struggling with her bandaged fingers. She didn’t want to think of her trial. She didn’t even really want to be sitting at this table.

“I am prepared to pardon you for your crimes,” the Emperor mused, sipping his wine.

She stared in shock. A pardon? Someone needed to pinch her, she was dreaming. “My lord?”

“You earned sufficient trust for a second chance by saving the life of one prince. I think potentially saving the life of the Imperial family, perhaps the Emperor himself, earns you a clean slate.” He wore a smile beneath his beard but his eyes were detached from any levity.

Vhalla paused. Saving the life of one prince? Did that mean Aldrik had told him what had really happened on the Night of Fire and Wind? She refrained from looking over to the crown prince.

“Thank you, my lord.” Vhalla lowered her eyes.

“But you see, my hands are tied.” The Emperor chewed thoughtfully on a piece of dark meat, before dabbing his mouth with his napkin and continuing. “The Senate, the voice of the people, they saw your military service as the fitting punishment, and I would not want to betray the trust of my loyal subjects.”

“Of course not ...” Vhalla said numbly, the word pardon echoed over and over again in her head.

“Don’t be fooled, Vhalla. They’re as hungry as ever, and if I pardoned you now those same people out there who were saluting you would turn again.” The Emperor glanced up at her.

From the corners of her eyes she could see Aldrik shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“But if you were to give us victory.” The man chuckled. “Now that would be something worth reward.”

“Victory? I don’t know how I could ...” Vhalla fumbled. Her sentence seemed to be increasing, not diminishing. Before she was only meant to serve in the war; now she had to bring victory? Had they ever planned on freeing her?

The Emperor’s icy blue eyes flicked over to Aldrik. The eldest prince took a very long dreg of his wine. “My son tells me he’s been working with you on something important.”

Vhalla said nothing for fear of incriminating her and Aldrik with something he’d yet to mention to his father. But there were things she couldn’t imagine him ever saying. Despite herself, she glanced at the dark prince.

“He tells me you can give me the North with your powers as a Windwalker.” The Emperor leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table.

“I am still learning most of my own abilities myself,” she hedged carefully.

“I have been made aware.” The Emperor waved the concerns away. “Aldrik has sent me detailed reports of your investigations into them.”

“I see ...” Vhalla murmured, looking at the man in question curiously. Aldrik did not seem to stop occupying his mouth with his wine glass.

The notes Aldrik had been taking on their Bonding flashed in her mind. He said he was going to use them for reference. He had told her that he had a plan to take the North using her power. So why did she suddenly feel betrayed?

“While I am extensively impressed with your abilities to command wind and storms, what I am most intrigued by, Vhalla, is this ability to place your mind beyond your body. It seems too astounding to be real. How confident are you in your control?” The Emperor finally reached his point.

Vhalla swallowed hard and reached for her glass of water, ignoring the alcohol. This was not a polite call to thank her for saving his army. That was a pleasant excuse for him to sit her down and formulate battle strategy.

“I suppose the crown prince would have a better judge of my control, he is far more experienced than I.” Vhalla muttered as she stabbed at some food on her plate, chewing through the silence that followed.

“You think she will be ready?” The Emperor turned to Aldrik.

Vhalla’s eyes drifted upward just in time to catch his as they fell on her with a frown.

“I think she will be,” Aldrik replied, turning to his father.

“Then I’d like a demonstration before we leave the Crossroads.” The Emperor sat back in his chair and folded his hands. “A demonstration? Why?” Aldrik asked, bolder than Vhalla could ever be.

“I need assurance.” The Emperor did not look pleased at being questioned by his son.

“In light of recent events, I’m not sure if magically that’s—” Aldrik started.

“You will have your demonstration.” Vhalla focused on the Emperor, ignoring Aldrik and the fact that she had interrupted him.

“Ah, there is the fire I saw at the trial.” The Emperor smiled. She glanced at Aldrik, he barely constrained his frustration. “There are opportunities in your future, Vhalla Yarl. Obedience is rewarded.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Vhalla was suddenly ambivalent to it all. She felt maneuvered and played, but she wasn’t sure by whom.

Aldrik had been honest with her about their meetings. So why did it hurt so much? Vhalla wrung her hands in her lap.

The second the food cleared Vhalla was eager to make her escape. “Please, forgive me my lords, I feel quite exhausted.”

“Certainly. Recover quickly, Vhalla Yarl.” The Emperor and his sons stood as well. “We shall reconvene in a few days.”

Vhalla nodded mutely, gave a small bow, and turned to the door.

She felt him before Aldrik even moved.

“I will make sure she returns to the inn,” the crown prince declared.

“Aldrik, I would like you to go over a few plans for managing the troop additions. They will arrive within the next few days, and you have your matters with Elecia.” The Emperor’s voice was definite.

Vhalla bristled at the other woman’s name. She’d all but forgotten Aldrik’s business.

“I shall just be a moment,” the eldest prince protested.

“It is not necessary, my prince. The walk is not far and I don’t mind being alone for it,” Vhalla countered.

Aldrik’s eyes squinted slightly in confusion or agitation. “I would much prefer to leave nothing to chance,” he said tensely. “The Crossroads can be full of unsavory characters.”

“My brother, ever concerned for the well-being of his subjects.” Prince Baldair strolled to her side. “Luckily, you have two sons, Father. I would be happy to make sure our little Windwalker makes it home safe and sound.”

Vhalla looked up at the golden prince in confusion. She was fairly certain she’d just said that she would walk alone.

“Excellent suggestion, Baldair.” The Emperor walked over to the large table and motioned for Aldrik to follow. “I look forward to your demonstration, Miss Yarl,” the Emperor said before turning his attention to the maps and papers on his table.

Aldrik stared at her hopelessly, then glared at his brother, but he went obediently to his father’s side.

Vhalla felt Aldrik’s eyes on her as Prince Baldair’s hand fell lightly on her hip, and he led her out of the room into the morning sun.

“Please remove your hand from my person,” Vhalla mumbled to the Heartbreaker Prince.

He flashed her a toothy grin. “Now, now, be more gracious,” he said charmingly. “People are watching you.” He smiled at a few soldiers as he began leading her back across the square.

“Exactly,” she replied. People watching was precisely what she was worried about.

“Oh? Don’t want them to think that you’re involved with me?” Prince Baldair returned a wave. “Just my brother?”

Vhalla glared at him. “Let it drop,” she cautioned. Her pace quickened to cross the distance faster.

“Not until you realize he’s playing you.” All jest, all joy was gone from his voice, and Prince Baldair’s face had turned serious.

“It’s not your business,” Vhalla argued.

“I thought he wasn’t. I thought maybe he had changed.” The prince held the door of the inn open for her, and Vhalla all but flew up the stairs. “But from what I saw, what I’ve heard, this past day—that’s not the case.”

Vhalla bit her tongue and swung open her door, hoping Larel would be waiting and would save her. She was not. The prince caught the closing door with a hand, and Vhalla turned sharply.

“I am still recovering, my prince, and would like to rest. Please, excuse me.” She mustered the last of her polite decorum.

“I am trying to help,” he said.

Vhalla saw concern marked across his pained expression. “Oh?” Her patience ran thin. “Like you helped the last time we had a little chat?”

“Everything I told you then was true.” Something in his tone gave Vhalla pause, she swayed slightly. “Vhalla, please sit. My brother and Father will give me hell if something ill befalls you on my watch.”

Vhalla eased herself onto the bed, pulling off her boots and lying down. She rolled on her side, her back to the prince. Everything hurt the moment she began to relax, but there was not much opportunity to do so as the prince rounded to sit on the edge of the bed, facing her. Vhalla glared at him.

“Vhalla, please listen. I want to tell you something,” Prince Baldair implored.

She sighed. “If I listen, will you go?”

He nodded, and Vhalla waited expectantly. “My brother and I are three years apart, which is a significant gap when you are five and eight, or twelve and fifteen, but at fifteen and eighteen and up it becomes less and less significant.” She wondered why he was exhausting her with trivia about their birthdays. “Not long after my ceremony of manhood there was a year where my brother and I decided to engage in some friendly competition.”

“Friendly competition?” Vhalla braced herself for what that meant between these men.

“I’ve always been ... charming.” Prince Baldair smiled at her, and she didn’t even refrain from rolling her eyes. At least he laughed. “My brother grew as a strange, sad child. At one point it seemed as though he hit a new low and just gave into the darkness and distance surrounding him. To be honest, I never saw him leave it.”

Vhalla found it interesting how Prince Baldair’s and Larel’s descriptions could be both similar and different.

“At some point we had a row, and doesn’t really matter about what, he was eighteen and I was at the ever hot-headed age of fifteen. I said he could not even get a woman to so much as glance at him because of how he was.” Vhalla stilled, beginning to listen intently. “For whatever reason, my brother took the challenge.”

“Challenge?” she repeated softly.

“For one year, it was a challenge for who could have the most women agree to share their bed.”

Vhalla’s eyes widened. “That’s ... awful.”

“It is certainly not the worst thing either of us have done to pass the time. Nor the worst thing young princes have ever, or will ever, do.” Vhalla saw the likely truth of his words with horror. “At first, I was an overnight favorite. But I underestimated my brother. One by one, like flies in a web, they began to offer themselves to him. I didn’t understand and it frustrated me daily. How my lanky, awkward, depressing shell of a brother managed to reclaim a solid lead.”

“Enough, I get it.” She pressed her face into her pillow.

“No, we haven’t gotten to the point yet.” He had a grim expression and Vhalla obliged silently. “I thought it was simply because he was the crown prince. But that wasn’t the case as the ladies seemed to call long after their turn was up, ever hopeful. Eventually I found he was not actually taking them to bed. They agreed to it, which given the wording of our bet placed him in the lead. But he never actually took one of them.”

Vhalla’s brow furrowed. “Why not?” Of course, she felt happy hearing that he hadn’t slept with a host of women, though luring them in like cattle seemed bad enough.

“I finally asked him once when I confronted him about the terms of the challenge. I’ll never forget what he told me.” Prince Baldair looked away. “He told me that it was the hunt that he relished. That none of them were good enough to merit his touch. That he did not have to kill the prey to have the satisfaction of the win. It was amusing; it was sport to watch them fall. For the next six months after, I watched him skillfully play every eligible woman he met. Somehow he knew what they wanted to hear, how they wanted to be led, and he did it with a complete mask of sincerity. He took things from them, but not their bodies. Their dignity, their time, their dreams ...”

“Please, I understand,” Vhalla breathed and was too tired to be as strong as she wanted to be.

Prince Baldair sighed and reached out, placing a large palm on the top of her head. Vhalla tensed at the momentary foreign touch.

“I thought maybe he’d changed.” The prince’s voice was soft. “But then I overheard a conversation between him and Father. Aldrik swore that he would be the one to make you obligated to gain victory. That you would be mindlessly obedient to him above all else and that he had you under his command without question. That the sandstorm was an example of this—and I realized he’d never relinquish the control he has on people.”

“Prince Baldair, I am very tired,” she whispered. The notes on the Emperor’s table returned to her, the mention of reports being given. Had she been a puppet for Aldrik and his father the whole time? Paying the greatest actor in the world with her emotions?

“I do agree with them—Aldrik and my father. You are smart, Vhalla. Please, just see him for what he is?” Prince Baldair searched her.

Vhalla closed her eyes, wanting nothing more than to cower. “I appreciate your concern, my prince.” It was all she could say in the end.

He sighed heavily. “Rest well, Vhalla.” Prince Baldair stood.

She relied only on the sounds of his departure.

Vhalla shivered, despite the room being warm. Of course, the day she realized she was hopelessly in love with a man was also the day she would be given additional proof of his being a rather twisted ass. At least, if one considered Prince Baldair’s word as proof. Vhalla laughed, and coughed from the state of her lungs.

Had Aldrik not warned her of all this? Hadn’t he said on multiple occasions that he was not a good man? Vhalla sighed again and wondered if it was even fair of her to hold it against him. All their meetings had been an excuse to test her abilities. She was foolish for thinking they—she—meant otherwise. Vhalla took a delicate breath and fought against tears until exhaustion claimed her.