Текст книги "Fire Falling "

Автор книги: Elise Kova

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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

SHE STARED AT the face of a man who was painfully, horribly familiar, and yet was completely different. Egmun wore his hair cropped short to his head, though the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes were smoother, the lines around his mouth lighter, and he wore a hint of stubble across his chin. The sight of the younger senator sent Vhalla into a rage-filled dread, the emotion conflicted with what her dream-self was feeling, a sense of calm trust.

Vhalla fought against the vision, struggling to escape, to push Egmun away. She pulled and pried and twisted mentally until something fractured at her raw panic. She stood outside of the body she previously occupied, what should be her body in any other dream.

Aldrik looked like he could be no older than fifteen. His hair was longer, down to his shoulders and tied back at the neck. Messy bangs framed his face, and Vhalla looked on with a strange mixture of love and fear for the wide-eyed boy alone in this dark place with a man she hated more than anyone or anything else.

The room was filled with a haze that mingled ominously with the darkness, making only certain details easily distinguishable. There was a single flame flickering in the cavernous space, and wherever it was, neither the ceiling nor walls were visible by the light. The floor was stone, inlaid with what seemed to be shards of shimmering glass. She tried to get a closer look but a fog covered them every time she tried to focus. There were old looking markings carved beneath their feet, spiraling toward the center where a man was kneeling, bound and blindfolded. He shivered and shook. The fabric covering his eyes was wet with tears.

“Prince Aldrik.” Egmun took a step forward. He wore a formal black coat and dark trousers; there was no sign of his Senatorial chain. “Someday, you will be Emperor. Do you know what that means?”

“I-I do.”

Vhalla turned to the stuttering child.

“So you know that justice will fall to you.” Egmun took another step forward, and Vhalla’s heart began to race, feeling hopelessly trapped. She didn’t want to be here, she didn’t want to see this. “It was your mother’s last request for your father to spare you these duties as long as possible.”

“My mother’s?” Vhalla saw a sad flash of hope in the boy’s eyes at the mention of the mother he never knew.

“But you will soon be a man, won’t you?” Egmun asked softly.

“I will.” The boy prince took a deep breath, as if to grow into all his height in one moment.

“It is rather unfair, no? For your father to be treating you like a child?” Vhalla watched the man grin, and she knew this Aldrik had not yet perfected his powers of perception and manipulation. If she could see Egmun for what he was in that moment, she had no doubt the adult Aldrik would as well. “Are you prepared to be the crown prince this realm needs?”

“I am,” Aldrik repeated through obvious doubt. Even though the space was cold, sweat dotted his brow.

“Then, my prince, for justice, for the strength of Solaris, for the future of your Empire, slay this man.” Egmun dropped dramatically to a knee. He pulled at the rope which attached a short sword to his belt and held out the blade expectantly.

Vhalla wasn’t sure if it was her heart that was racing or if it was the young Aldrik’s.

“But ...”

“This man has stolen from your family; it is a treasonous crime. He is not an innocent,” Egmun assured.

“Should my father not—”

“I thought you were a man and a prince. I did not take you as someone who shied from justice or power, Prince Aldrik.” Egmun seemed to stretch his arms to hold out the sword further. “Why are you here?”

“For my father, to conquer the North,” Aldrik said uncertainly. The war on the North had only started four years ago. Aldrik should be twenty, not a child.

“With this, all will bend to you.” Egmun smiled encouragingly, and Vhalla was reminded of a serpent. Aldrik took the sword hesitantly.

No, she whispered mentally. She was, of course, helpless and unheard. Aldrik turned to the kneeling man.

“M-my prince, m-mercy please. T-take my hand for m-my theft. Spare m-me.” Vhalla heard the rough voice of the man through his tears. Aldrik looked back to Egmun.

“Minister ...” he said weakly.

“The guilty will say anything to you, my prince, to save their skin. This, too, is a lesson.” Egmun returned to his feet, he seemed to be holding his breath.

Aldrik unsheathed the sword, passing the scabbard back into Egmun’s eager palms. The blade shimmered as though it gave off its own light.

Egmun, stop. Vhalla shouted.

“M-mercy,” the man begged. Aldrik stared at Egmun hopelessly.

“Kill him, Aldrik.”

Vhalla gaped in shock at the sudden harshness in Egmun’s tone. His patience had finally run thin. Aldrik didn’t seem to notice. She only had a moment to contemplate what, exactly, had the senator so eager before Vhalla saw the boy set his jaw in grim determination.

No. She felt Aldrik’s terror, his uncertainty, his youthful hopefulness, the ever encroaching end of his innocence, and she felt herself at the point of weeping.

Aldrik raised the blade. It hovered, just a moment above his head. The young prince stared at the helpless man before him, the life she knew was about to be cut short. Vhalla saw the flash of the firelight on the surface of the sword as he brought it down clumsily onto the man’s head.

No, she repeated as she saw the man shudder violently at Aldrik’s weak and clumsy swing. Aldrik raised the sword again.

No! Vhalla cried as he brought down the sword again, blood splattering across his perfect, youthful face. Aldrik raised the sword again.

“No!” Vhalla shouted, lunging forward at a figure that disappeared with the opening of her eyes.

An arm wrapped itself across her shoulders, holding her tightly to a man’s chest. A hand clamped over her mouth firmly. Her mind was in a daze and she cried out again, muffled by the fingers covering her lips. She twisted and kicked to free herself from the person’s clutches, instantly thinking of Egmun, her cheeks wet with tears.

“Vhalla.” A voice that was made of midnight itself soothed from behind her. It broke through the chaos in her head. “Vhalla, stop. It’s all right. It’s me.”

She gave a small whimper of relief and took a breath through her nose. Then another, until Aldrik finally removed his hand from her mouth, assured she would not alert the whole world to her presence in his bed. In her sleep she had rolled onto her side and Aldrik had curled behind her. Vhalla rolled to face him.

“Aldrik,” she said weakly. Vhalla scanned his face. After seeing his younger self, he suddenly appeared every year of his age and too many more. She choked down a small cry of relief to see his cheeks free of blood. “Aldrik,” Vhalla whimpered before using his chest as a shield from the world.

The prince’s arms closed around her, and he kissed the top of her head. “I’m here. You’re safe. It was just a dream. It isn’t real,” he reassured, running a hand up and down her back.

“It is.” Vhalla choked out in-between shaky breaths and the remnants of tears. She couldn’t deny it any more. The earlier dreams had been too mingled with his consciousness to know for certain, but now she was sure.

“Vhalla, I know of a great many powers in this world ...” He pulled back and ran a thumb over her wet cheeks. “I know of powers to see the future in flame and ash. I know of powers to listen to echoes of the past in waves. I know of powers that can heal almost any illness. I know of powers to walk outside of one’s own body.” Aldrik smiled gently at her. “But I know of no power of dreams.”

“It-it was real.”

“Hush, you’re not making sense. Take a breath and go back to sleep. It is barely dawn, and my father didn’t speak of having your demonstration until noon.” He kissed her forehead lightly, and Vhalla’s guilt made her pull away from him to sit up.

“You don’t understand. It was real. My dreams, they’re not—” A shiver ran down her arms. “They’re not always dreams.”

“Come, you’re cold,” Aldrik sighed. “What is it you think they are?” He yawned, blinking sleep away and propping his head up with his elbow.

She relented, lying back down into the covers but avoiding his embrace. “They’re,” Vhalla sighed and closed her eyes, bracing herself. “They’re your memories.”

“What?” Aldrik studied her.

“My dreams, at least sometimes, are your memories. I don’t know how, or why, or when they will happen, but they do.” She gulped at his silence.

“Why do you think that?” he asked, turning serious. “Because there’s no reason why I should dream anything like what I see,” she whispered.

“Dreams are strange, Vhalla. Who knows why we dream what we do.” Aldrik laid back down.

“No,” she snapped; he wasn’t taking her as seriously as she had wanted. She recalled a prior vivid dream. “The man who stabbed you was your brother’s guard, he was a Westerner, and his son was in the town that you attacked.”

Aldrik’s eyes grew wide. “Did Baldair tell you that?”

“No!” Vhalla fought to keep her head from turning into an emotional mess. “Aldrik, they are my dreams! You were at a garden in the West with the sculpture of a woman on an obelisk with a gold and ruby sun. There was a man there who told you—of all people—to stop fidgeting.”

“My mother’s grave.” Aldrik’s lips barely moved. His eyes were suddenly burning with a dark intensity, and he grabbed her shoulder. “What else?” he demanded. “What else have you seen?” His fingers dug into her skin.

She struggled to remember anything else but her most recent dream. “You in the dark, with another woman ...”

“Mother ...” He hung his head in shame.

“With, when-when Egmun made you ...” Vhalla struggled to find words, still reeling.

“When he what?” Aldrik’s teeth were clenched. “When he what?”

For the first time, Vhalla felt a small twinge of fear at his quivering hands. “When-when he made you kill that man,” Vhalla whispered, her lips barely moving.

Aldrik stared at her. “Is that all? What do you know? Tell me, Vhalla, and do not lie to me.” His voice was rough and void of compassion.

“I have never lied to you!”

“Of course not, just rummaged through my head,” he raged.

“How dare you!” Vhalla jerked out of his grasp, offended by his presumptions. “I only just realized it. I was only now, this morning, able to separate myself enough from you in the memories to realize.” She saw the recognition of those facts calm his anger some.

“Was that all you saw?” he repeated more calmly.

“Of that dream? Yes,” she sighed. “I don’t even know where it happened. It was all dark.”

The prince sat and brought his forehead to his palm with a heavy sigh.

“Aldrik,” she whispered. “There’s another ...”

“Gods, what?” he sighed. “Vhalla,” he urged softly.

Vhalla bit her lip. She wasn’t sure how to form the words. Something about all that had been said, her recent dream, his low opinion of himself, placed this singular memory in the forefront of her mind. Vhalla sat and took his hand gently in hers, bringing it to her lips first in reassurance. He looked at her, a mix of pain, shame, and anger furrowing his brow. She sighed and turned his hand over, so the inside of his wrist faced upward. With her free hand she placed an index finger just below his palm running it up his forearm. Her fingertip caught on his sleeve and pushed it upward, revealing the ghost of a scar which she knew would be there. It was so faint that on the pale of his skin it was nearly invisible, but she knew to look for it. Vhalla brought her gaze up to his slowly.

Aldrik’s face drained of all the other emotions except horror as his lips parted. Vhalla held her breath, letting the shock hit him in silence. He wrenched his hand from her fingers, as though she had actually cut along his forearm. Vhalla could only look at him sadly before his eyes bore into her long enough that she was forced to avert her attention.

They sat facing each other on the bed as the silence dragged on into eternity. His breathing was rough, and he clutched the arm she had touched as though he was in pain. Vhalla couldn’t bring herself to look at him as she awaited the verdict.

“I never meant to violate you so,” she said weakly. Intentional or not, it remained that she had forced herself upon his most private of spaces, pilfering things that were not freely given.

Aldrik said nothing; he continued to attempt to get his breathing under control as his eyes fixed on her. Vhalla felt power radiating off of him; he was angry, he was hurt, and it made her feel all the more awful.

“I never wanted to.” She tried to explain, “I would’ve never done so—”

“Of course not,” he spat. “Who would ever want to see the twisted broken histories that lurk in my head? Only one person in this world should deserve to endure it.” That brought her eyes back to him.

“Aldrik, don’t say that,” she whispered softly, breaking under the anger in his gaze that she saw wasn’t really directed at her.

“Oh?” He laughed dryly. “How can you think so? You know what’s there now. What’s worse, you’ve lived it. Tell me, Vhalla, what’s it like to find out your prince is a coward? Is weak? Is scared? Is wicked? Is—”

“Human,” she said firmly, cutting him off. Aldrik paused. “Aldrik, I don’t know why ...” She took his hand in hers again, looking down at his arm.

“I won’t tell you,” he said sharply. Vhalla shifted, startled, she had hardly been about to ask. “Damn it.” He stood, pacing the room. “Even if I don’t tell you, every time you sleep it’s a roulette to see if you’ll find out.” He spouted a series of foul words.

Vhalla grabbed the blanket tightly; she’d never heard him use such vulgarity. “I wouldn’t say anything to—”

“Not even my brother knows, Vhalla.” He turned back. “Not even Larel knows, and she’s the closest person I’ve ever had to calling a true friend. I tried to tell her once and that just went over awfully.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes with his palms.

Vhalla had come to think of Aldrik as one of the strongest people she knew. Seeing him so close to his breaking point pulled her to her feet.

“End the Joining.”

He grimaced, shook his head, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“It only started after the Joining.” She pleaded, “Aldrik, please, I don’t want to hurt you. I want you to close what was opened.”

“And I want you to survive this war!” he nearly shouted. Vhalla blinked as his words stung the corners of her eyes. Still, he still was mindful of her wellbeing. Even when he was in so much pain, even when she had pilfered intimate knowledge of him, he refused relief for her sake.

“Mother Sun, woman,” Aldrik groaned. He crossed the room and stood before her, releasing his tension with a sigh. Slowly, gently, Aldrik wiped her cheeks. “Why are you crying?”

Vhalla hiccupped. “Because you may be the most amazing person I have ever met.”

“I am not. If it had been anyone other than you, I likely would have killed them on the spot and burned their body until there was nothing left but dust,” Aldrik swore darkly.

She knew it shouldn’t, but just hearing it put that way brought a small smile to her mouth.

Aldrik sighed. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be inclined to talk about these things.”

“That’s fine.”

“Tell me, from now on, no matter what they are. Whatever you see, I need to know,” he said gravely.

“I promise.” She nodded, apprehensive of what was locked away in his memories that gave him such fear.

Aldrik sighed and stepped away. “Vhalla, I need some time.” He rubbed his eyes tiredly. “I understand you didn’t choose this.” He swallowed hard. “I-I am not angry at you for it. I am not blaming you. But, this ... this, letting someone in is already so far beyond what I am accustomed to.”

“I didn’t realize.” Vhalla rubbed her eyes, hanging her head.

Aldrik tapped her chin, summoning her attention. “Good. It’s been better than good.” He shook his head. “I can’t even ... form sentences. This, you and I, my being pushed beyond the personal hell I built for myself, has been good. I’ve felt more like a man in the past months-weeks, in the past days being with you, than I have in years. As though I can enjoy things without—guilt. Good isn’t even the right word to say for it. You’ve let me be the person I always wished I could be and, I ...”

“I understand.” Vhalla spared him further struggle. “I’ll wait, take your time.”

“I just need to really understand what it’s like to have someone whom-whom I trust.” Aldrik avoided her gaze, scowling at himself. “Someone who knows my dark truths and who isn’t seeking something from me or is trying to use something against me.”

Vhalla nodded, taking a breath for courage. She pressed her palms against her eyes briefly to hold in more tears of hurt and frustration. Intentional or not, she had hurt him and that ground her heart into pieces. And now she had to leave him at his request; even if he needed time, it didn’t sit well with her.

Aldrik’s form was hunched and his eyes were somber as he led her down the passageway. There was a sorrowful resignation between them at the suppression of something that had just begun to blossom. It may be stinted, but Vhalla vowed she wouldn’t let the flame that burned between them be extinguished.

As if reading her mind, Aldrik turned. “Thank you.”

“For what?” She blinked at him.

“For not fleeing my side after you ... had to experience all that.” Aldrik rubbed his forearm.

Vhalla wondered if he even realized he was doing it. “I may not understand it all,” she whispered, braving a step closer to him. “But who you were made you who you are now. I wish you’d never had to suffer. But I’ll take the past gladly so I can share the present.”

She saw the beginnings of a smile that he quickly abandoned. Aldrik pulled her in for a tight embrace, and she heard his breath quiver. Before he could lose his composure, he turned and pushed open the secret door.

“Return at noon. My father will be expecting you then.” His voice was distant.

“I will see you then,” Vhalla said hopefully.

But the door had already closed.

Larel and Fritz were playing a game of Carcivi when Vhalla mindlessly stumbled into the downstairs of their inn. She gave them one glance, nothing more than acknowledging they were there, before dragging her feet toward the stairs. A chair scraped against the ground.

“We’ll finish later,” Vhalla heard Larel saying. The woman was quick on Vhalla’s heels.

“Larel,” Vhalla whispered weakly.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Larel rested her hands lightly on Vhalla’s quivering shoulders.

“I hurt him, Larel ...” Weakness burst forth from her, and Vhalla relied on the other woman’s support once more to put her back together in time to face the Emperor.

VHALLA OPENED HER eyes to the stunned faces of royals, lords, and ladies. The only person in the room who wasn’t impressed was Aldrik. Despite her demonstration being better than even she expected, the prince maintained his withdrawn and ambivalent look. She knew he couldn’t show her favor in front of the nobles, especially after hearing Lord Ophain speak on how careless he’d been with the affections he’d already displayed, but there was a larger wall there than just acting. Be it the Joining, the Bond, time spent together, or a combination of it all, he was poor at hiding his feelings from her, and Vhalla could see the hurt and fear in the depths of his eyes every time he looked her way.

Everyone gave her space as she pushed herself off the plush furniture. No one said anything. The majors who had been assembled, the highest of the Emperor’s command, looked between her and their leader, reserving all judgment until they had heard his assessment.

The most powerful man in the world leaned forward, his eyes glittering. “Well, Miss Yarl, that was certainly impressive.”

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

“This demonstration is replicable an infinite amount of times?” The Emperor turned to his eldest son.

“As long as her magic Channel is not blocked in some way, like depletion or Eradication,” Aldrik affirmed with a nod.

The Emperor stroked his beard and turned to the nobles assembled. “My son has already formulated some plans on how we will be able to use this power effectively in the North. However, I would like each of you to put together your own strategy before we reach the Northern border.”

They spoke as though she wasn’t there. Vhalla shifted in her seat, folding and unfolding her hands in her lap. She was a tool to these people, designed to be used in whatever way they saw fit.

A pair of eyes caught her attention. The only person focused on her was the younger prince. She met Prince Baldair’s gaze and was surprised to see sympathy there. Vhalla averted her eyes. She didn’t want his pity.

“Very well, this is sufficient for today. You are dismissed, Miss Yarl.” The Emperor waved a hand in her direction.

“Thank you, my lords and ladies.” Vhalla stood, keeping her eyes downcast.

“Ah, one more thing,” Lord Ophain interjected.

Vhalla searched him with a questioning stare. What was he doing?

“This is the first Windwalker in the West in decades.”

The other nobility were confused; even Aldrik didn’t seem to understand why his uncle was approaching her.

“Vhalla Yarl,” Lord Ophain began, looking down at her. “I cannot correct the mistakes of my forefathers. I cannot expunge the blood of Windwalkers from the stones of my castle. What the Knights of Jadar did to your brethren can never be remedied.”

Vhalla shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Speaking of the genocide of her people after learning more about the reasons behind it put an uncomfortable feeling in her gut that tingled down to her toes. It wasn’t something she even wanted mentioned.

“But what I can do is be a catalyst for a future of hope, peace, and prosperity between sorcerers of all types and Commons. To show that the value I see in you is far greater than your magic.”

She wondered if he was sincere. But the second Lord Ophain’s eyes darted over to the Emperor’s, she had no doubt. This was a statement, one which Vhalla wasn’t sure she was prepared to be involved in or even fully understood the implications of.

“Therefore, it is my honor to bestow upon you a Crimson Proclamation.”

Murmurs clouded the air the moment the words left the Western Lord’s lips. Vhalla shifted uncertainly. Even Aldrik wore a look of dumb shock on his face. Some nobles were confused, but the other Westerners seemed quick to fill in the blanks.

Lord Ophain focused only on Vhalla as he produced a crimson ribbon from his inner coat pocket. It was just over half the length of her forearm and as wide as three fingers. He handed it to her, and Vhalla instantly ran her fingers over the silk. Upon it were Western symbols in silver thread, on the bottom was an ink seal bearing the flaming phoenix of the West.

Vhalla looked back up to him quizzically.

“In truth, this is a hollow title.” Lord Ophain did not make her ask outright. With a nod in the Emperor’s direction, he continued, “Only the Emperor may elevate lords and ladies to the court of nobility. But the West maintains its traditions and honors the old ways. Any who are able to read those words will know that the Lady Vhalla Yarl is considered a Duchess of the West by Order of Lord Ophain Ci’Dan.”

Vhalla stared in awe. Hollow title or no, it was more esteem than she had ever contemplated in her life. She made the mistake of looking to the Emperor and resisted the urge to push the fabric back in Lord Ophain’s palms. Emperor Solaris’s eyes were steely. She gripped the ribbon tighter. It meant nothing, it was a symbol of good faith, of righting wrongs of the past. It posed no threat of change to her current status. Surely the Emperor knew that?

“You honor me, my lord,” Vhalla mumbled, lowering her eyes.

“If you are quite finished, Lord Ophain,” the Emperor said coldly, “Miss Yarl has other places to be.”

Vhalla didn’t, but she was eager to be out of the suddenly oppressive room. She gave one last bow and noticed that suddenly the Western nobility gave her small nods of their heads. All, save for one; a mustached major, whom Vhalla had never so much had laid eyes on before the demonstration, regarded her with thinly veiled contempt.

It was impossible to leave the room fast enough, retreating back to her inn.

Larel and Fritz were waiting for her when she returned. They lounged in a sitting area to the left of the lobby’s entrance. Daniel and Craig occupied the Carcivi board to the right. All of them looked up in interest the moment she entered.

“How’d it go?” Fritz was the first to ask.

“Well,” Vhalla held up the ribbon in white-knuckled grip. “I got a Crimson Proclamation.”

“A what?” Larel asked.

Daniel and Craig seemed equally lost.

“A Crimson Proclamation?” Fritz was on his feet, rushing over to her. “I didn’t think the West gave these anymore.”

“What is it?” Larel asked, crossing over to Vhalla and Fritz.

“Crimson Proclamations were how the old kings of the West built their court. They raised people to noble status with them,” Fritz explained.

“So, are you a noble now?” Daniel went to get a look himself.

“Not really,” Vhalla remembered what Lord Ophain said.

“The Emperor abolished the Western Court,” Fritz continued. “When Mhashan was absorbed into the Empire and became just ‘the West,’ the Emperor didn’t want an uprising from the people who were old nobility. So he formed the Imperial Court as a way to appease them, giving the old nobility new Southern titles and elevating his own lords and ladies to sit among them.”

“He took control of their power then?” Craig rubbed his chin.

Fritz nodded. “And, in effect, absorbed the wealth of the oldest families in the West. But why did you get one?”

“Lord Ophain said it was a gesture of good faith, for the Burning Times,” Vhalla summarized.

Comprehension sunk into Fritz’s face.

“The Burning Times?” Daniel asked.

That launched Fritz into a whole new history lesson. One that, given Daniel’s interest in Windwalkers, took significantly longer. Vhalla listened quietly, still digesting the afternoon.

The Emperor seemed pleased with her demonstration ... but his eyes. She suppressed a shiver. His eyes were void of all emotion each time they fell upon her. The more interactions she had with Emperor Solaris, the less doubt Vhalla had that her place beneath him would never change.

“So, they just, killed them all?” Craig leaned back in his chair in shock.

“Yep.” Fritz nodded. “And Vhal’s the first one since.”

She met her friend’s proud smile with a tired curl of her lips.

“However ... horrible that is, we can’t change it now, and I think we should celebrate Vhalla’s proclamation.” Daniel leaned forward in his chair.

“I don’t know if I can handle another night of celebration,” Larel said uneasily.

“Something quieter. There’s a delicious Western restaurant not far from here.” Daniel stood. “I’d love to treat the Windwalker and her friends.”

Daniel extended a hand to her, and Vhalla stared at it. She wished she could feel his joy. She wanted the excitement that had been evoked in her the first night in the Crossroads, excitement in spite of the sea of power plays and manipulation that she found herself adrift in. Vhalla took Daniel’s hand, allowing him to pull her to her feet. Sitting and brooding wouldn’t help her find that joy again, and Daniel had been a catalyst for it before—maybe he would be able to summon it again.

The Crossroads did not disappoint. The night was warm, interrupted by a cool breeze drifting through the dusty streets and alleys. Colors were splashed upon every building in the forms of bright murals, tapestries, and awnings. Music and laughter could be heard all around, in harmony with gambling parlors and pleasure halls—it was a good place to forget who you were, Vhalla decided.

The restaurant was nicer than Vhalla expected, and she was instantly overwhelmed by the menu and table setting. Fritz seemed equally lost and Larel surprisingly comfortable. Vhalla could only suspect that growing up the friend of the Crown Prince gave the Western woman insights into etiquette she wouldn’t have otherwise.

Vhalla leaned back in her chair, nursing her drink between plates. She was on the edge of a haze that seemed very inviting and, while she did not want to induce morning-after headaches, she did want to take the edge off the day. Daniel leaned back as well, allowing the table conversation to continue before them.

“What do you think of Western food?” he asked soft enough to be heard only by her.

Vhalla was startled out of her thoughts. “What? Oh, it’s delicious.”

“I think so too,” he agreed. “I didn’t know what to expect the first time I tried it.”

“When was that?” she asked.

“My first campaign.” He sipped his glass thoughtfully. “It was my first time into the West. My family never travelled much.”

“How did you end up in the palace?”

“I enlisted.” Daniel shrugged and added, “I thought it’d be a chance at a better life.”

“Hasn’t it been?” She heard the edge of disappointment in his voice.

“On paper, I suppose. I am a lord now, after all.” He had the look of someone who was seeing shadows of the past rather than the glittering splendor that surrounded him in the present. “But at night I wonder, if I had never left the East if I would still have her.”

His tone made Vhalla’s chest ache. “Don’t think that way.” Vhalla shifted in her chair to get a better look at her fellow Easterner. Daniel regarded her thoughtfully, his complete attention a heavy load. Vhalla swallowed, hoping she could find the right thing to say to support her friend. “I-I almost Eradicated my magic.”

“Eradicated?”

“Got rid of.” Daniel gaped at her in shock, as though the notion was incomprehensible to him. “I was scared when I found out I was a sorcerer. And then, the Night of Fire and Wind, I thought—I thought everything was the fault of my magic.” Food was placed in front of them but neither made a motion toward it. “My friend died because of it.”

“Vhalla ...” he said with a sympathetic tone.

She shook her head, dismissing his sympathy. “I can’t go back, and neither can you. We both have to move forward and find what beauty we can in the world as it is.”