Текст книги "Fire Falling "

Автор книги: Elise Kova

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

“Is it that bad?” she asked in shock.

“The Western winds are known to be strong enough to rip trees from their roots and sweep grown men off their feet like ragdolls. They normally blow with the summer air. It’s abnormal for a winter one. We’re not prepared,” Fritz replied gravely.

Vhalla twisted in her saddle, looking at the dark point on the horizon. At best it may kill? That didn’t sound like a best case scenario to her. She wondered if she imagined it growing in the southern skyline. Another horn blew out, a series of blasts and others picked up its call. Aldrik and Elecia rode back together.

“We make haste for the Crossroads!” the prince shouted, calling attention of all the soldiers in the Black Legion. “Speak not another word and listen for orders.”

It seemed as though everyone understood at once what was happening and the host picked up its pace. But with so many soldiers on foot, they were severely limited in speed. Vhalla glanced over her shoulder. It seemed like they were making headway against it, or it wasn’t coming their way.

Then the wind shifted.

She felt it there, the raging angry mass behind them. It was a fury unlike any Vhalla had ever felt before. It was pure power and wind that pushed forward to consume every last person in their host. Vhalla turned back and saw it again. It appeared no bigger, but she knew better.

“How much longer until the Crossroads?” she hissed to Fritz and Larel.

“I don’t know. I’ve only been this way once before,” Larel whispered back. Her voice was barely audible over the horses’ hooves on the stone road.

“How much longer?” Vhalla tried Elecia, the other woman glanced at her in annoyance but Vhalla gave her an unwavering stare. She’d have none of it.

“Maybe less than thirty minutes?” Elecia said.

Vhalla cursed. They wouldn’t make it. She felt it.

“My prince!” Vhalla called. Aldrik glared at her sharply for speaking out of turn, she ignored it. “We’re not going to make it if we don’t go faster.”

Seriousness furrowed his brow. “You’re sure?” he asked gravely.

Vhalla ripped off her gauntlets and stuffed them into her saddlebag. Clenching her hands into fists, she let go of the reins completely and held them in the air. Closing her eyes, Vhalla unfurled her fingers, not caring how silly it may look. The wind pushed through and around her hands, she felt the storm’s power at the end of every gust.

Her eyes snapped open. “We won’t make it!”

Elecia’s attention darted from her to Aldrik. “Aldrik, there’s no other cover but the barrier walls for the Crossroads.” Tension brought Elecia’s voice to a tremble.

Vhalla scanned the landscape around them. It was true. Sand and sand as far as the eye could see. She glanced over her shoulder. The dark spot had turned to a wall on the horizon.

“Damn it!” Aldrik spurred his horse forward again and Vhalla saw him race back to his father. For just a brief moment she saw the Emperor look back in her direction. Aldrik’s horse dropped its pace and the host sped around him as he returned to his place. Another horn blew out followed by more.

The Imperial army was in a run along the Great Imperial Way. The rumble of horses and the chorus of armor cut through the slowly increasing volume of the wind. Vhalla looked back at the sections of carts, those horses couldn’t be pushed any faster without losing their load. Foot soldiers were already being left behind as those who were mounted began to panic and push faster. She saw the roaring wall behind them, blotting out the sun ominously.

A heavy realization pulsed through her. They still weren’t going to make it. Horses wouldn’t outrun this wind. Even for a single rider it was too large and too fast. Vhalla absorbed the panicked faces of the people around her, the strained expressions of her friends.

Not a single word was said among any of the soldiers. It seemed as though she wasn’t the only one to come to the sobering awareness of their plight. It didn’t require magic to feel the ever increasing gusts that began to make men and women stumble and mounts falter. A horn blew out, a frantic pulsing sound. Everyone turned. Vhalla’s heart beat in her throat.

A swirling mass of sand and death cut from earth to sky. The wind howled and consumed everything in its path, plunging the world into darkness. It stretched out on either side of them. The storm meant to swallow them whole and was about to begin its meal with the last rider at the end of the host.

Vhalla’s saw the faces of those around her as they confronted their own mortality. Her gaze swept back until it fell on Aldrik. He had a tormented expression of frustration and desperation. Vhalla felt something pulse through her frantically; she would not let him die.

As if feeling the intensity of her attention, Aldrik’s head snapped back at her; something on her face made panic overcome him. She barely saw the movement of his lips as he was going to say something. Vhalla turned Lightning hard to the right, cutting between the legions.

They could do nothing; none of them could do anything. If she didn’t try, then it was over. Vhalla dug her heels into Lightning’s sides as she cut through the shocked expressions to the outside of the column. Somewhere, someone was calling her name.

Vhalla didn’t look back.

The wind was in her ears, it flowed through her and, despite all her fears, she did nothing to suppress it. This would not be like the last time. She would find the wind and use it to save, not to kill.

Vhalla snapped the reins. “Faster,” she demanded. “Faster!” she cried, watching the sandstorm creep toward the end of the column. Her heart threatened to burst from her chest, and Vhalla blinked the sand from her eyes.

The solders of the rear legions stared at her in shock as she ran headfirst toward the storm. There was more shouting now from behind her. Vhalla glanced back. The Black Legion was a roar calling for her. She turned her head away from them, almost at the end of the host.

The wind whipped her hair, and soon Lightning began to spook and fight her pushes to advance. Vhalla cursed at the beast, begging it to carry her just a little farther. Through her words or her heels at his sides, Lightning obliged. She cut back onto the road when the last of the legion sprinted past her in the opposite direction. Their horrified expressions were all they could give her.

Vhalla pulled hard and dismounted ungracefully, stumbling and recovering. Turning Lightning back to the host she gave him a slap on his rear—the horse needed no further urging to run from the swirling sands. The soldiers kept going.

She breathed a small sigh of relief. They needed every chance they could get. If she should fail, they needed to keep pressing on. At the very least she would buy them time. Vhalla turned and looked up at the titan of wind and sand.

And she felt very small.

Vhalla spread out her feet and planted them, bracing herself. She held out her bare hands into the wind. If she could make a storm, she could end one. Vhalla felt the wind through her fingers, she felt the currents, they were part of her—and they would answer to her.

Nothing prepared her for the impact of the storm. It was as though she was thrown from another roof and Vhalla felt her shoulders pop from the strain. Her whole body was pressed down, and her knees trembled.

Vhalla closed her eyes and grit her teeth. There was sand all around her, in her hair, in her ears, and in her nose. But it would end here, with her. She leaned into the storm, pushing back with all the force she had. In the chaos of the sand and the roar of the wind, she couldn’t open her eyes. Vhalla tried to reach outward to see if she had even managed to stop or slow the storm, but her senses were jumbled with the raw power she was trying to draw from.

The first time she cried out was when one of her fingers snapped back. The sharp and sudden pain of her bones being pulled from their joints made her focus falter—she felt the wind collapse in on her, almost losing her balance. Vhalla forced her legs to straighten, straining against the pain. Another finger went, and then her shoulder threatened to give out.

Her hands trembled and Vhalla felt herself at the edge of exhaustion. With a cry she did everything Aldrik had cautioned her against since her very first lesson with him. Vhalla threw herself into her Channel with the singular thought that this storm ended here, that it would not reach her friends—it would not reach him.

The moments that followed were a strange dichotomy of feeling, like her body was dying and her mind was being born again. Light seared at the edges of her closed eyes and flooded her senses. With an almost audible click she felt herself connect to the storm through her Channel. She felt every edge of it, understood its violent gales. It was hers now, an extension of her magic that she possessed a fragile measure of control over.

She struggled to move her arms. Vhalla felt the connection with her physical body wavering. She cried mentally, straining against the impending failure of her systems. A little more—it was both a prayer and a rally—a little more. Her arms out at her sides, Vhalla took a deep breath and felt the sand fill her lungs. She gave one last push to make the storm a part of her. And then turned that power inward, pushing it down into her Channel and smothering it.

The winds died and silence filled her ears. Vhalla’s legs gave out, and she collapsed to her knees, her arms dropping to her sides. Cracking her eyes open she saw the blazing brightness of the sun against a blue sky. A small sob escaped her mouth and she coughed, her lungs on fire. There was still a strange blur of light and dark playing at the edge of her vision. Vhalla felt her shoulder hit the stone of the road, then her temple—and the world went black.

A SINGLE FLAME DANCED at her bedside and the moon shifted through foreign curtains as Vhalla drifted in and out of consciousness. She shifted restlessly, trying to free herself from the prison of exhaustion and the twilight state of dreams.

A warm palm touched her cheek, followed by the whispering of soothing words. She stirred at the rustle of the blanket being pulled over her. Vhalla cracked her eyes open.

The room came slowly into focus. Vhalla didn’t recognize the tasteful decoration or sumptuous décor. But she did recognize the woman tending her bedside.

“This is getting old,” Vhalla whispered weakly, nearly startling Larel out of her skin.

“You’re awake,” the Western woman breathed with a sigh of relief. “This is getting old. Stop beating yourself up.” The levity was not lost on Larel, and the woman was joyous just at the sight of Vhalla’s open eyes.

“Where are we?” Vhalla asked between a fit of coughing. It felt as though her insides had been shredded.

“The Crossroads.” Larel held a cup of water to Vhalla’s parched lips.

“We made it?” she sputtered in surprise.

“We did.” Larel passed the cup to Vhalla’s eager hands, standing from her place at the bedside. “And there’s someone who has been very eager to see you.”

Larel left the room without further explanation, but Vhalla wasn’t surprised when a raven-haired prince silently slipped through the door a short time later. He turned and Vhalla’s breath hitched. His hair was fixed in place, and he was swathed in finery, not armor. He was every inch the prince she’d met months ago. Every inch the prince she had risked her life to save.

“Vhalla ...” Aldrik croaked.

She saw dark circles beneath his eyes as he staggered toward her. Vhalla sat straighter, wincing slightly at the pain in her back and shoulders as she placed the mostly empty cup on the bedside table. Two obsidian eyes consumed her hungrily, though Vhalla knew she looked a mess.

As Vhalla opened her mouth to speak, the prince collapsed to his knees at her bedside. She was stunned into silence, and Aldrik buried his face in his forearms. She watched his shoulders tremble for a moment and heard ragged breathing. Unable to bear his meaningless pain, Vhalla reached out a bandaged hand, placing it on his hair.

The prince’s face jolted upward, startled by her touch.

“What happened?” she whispered, unable to logically piece it together.

“You foolish idiot,” he suddenly rasped, drawing himself to his feet. “You went without orders from your superior. You ignored the call. You could have killed yourself, you dumb girl.”

Vhalla shrunk back as though he’d slapped her.

“And you stopped the storm.” He sat heavily on the edge of her bed. Without hesitation, Aldrik reached up and cupped her cheek gently. “You foolish, amazing, astounding woman, you saved us all.”

Vhalla let out a small sob of relief. That truth could be assumed by his presence, but hearing him say it made it all the more real. She hung her head and covered her mouth with her palm, trying to restrain her emotions. Aldrik shifted and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him. It hurt to move her body in some places, but Vhalla ignored it easily as she pressed her face into his shoulder.

“You were wondrous, Vhalla,” he breathed deeply into her hair. “And I swear, if you ever do something like that again.”

Vhalla pulled her face away in surprise, his hands wrapping themselves around her shoulders.

“When you ran off, I couldn’t follow you; I couldn’t send anyone for you—I should have. I’m sorry, Gods I wanted to ...” Aldrik breathed deeply and fought for his composure.

“Aldrik,” she said, moving his hands from her shoulders into her grasp, barely containing a small wince. “I didn’t want you to follow me.” Hesitantly she reached out a bandaged hand and caressed his face. It was the first time she could remember touching his cheek and instantly regretted that half her hand was wrapped. Vhalla gave him a small smile. “I wanted to keep you safe. That’s my job right? Keeping you alive?”

Aldrik let out a chuckle and shook his head. He shifted, leaning toward her. Her fingers fell from his face into both of his hands. Vhalla felt lightheaded from sitting as she became aware of his proximity.

“Vhalla,” he murmured softly, tightening his grip. “I thought I might never have another opportunity to see you, to talk to you.” Aldrik stared at their laced fingers; his thumbs stroked the backs of her bandages. “I thought you would ride away and I would never ...” His voice trailed off to barely more than a whisper. He braved giving her his attention once more, and Vhalla felt something flutter frantically. “I would never have the opportunity to tell you that ...”

Vhalla leaned closer to him, savoring every word. She could almost feel his breath on her face when he spoke.

“That I ...” Aldrik was suddenly keenly aware of her attentiveness and there was something that resembled fear at the realization. Aldrik’s lips parted.

Vhalla held her breath.

He promptly closed his mouth and looked away as the rumble of heavy footsteps drew closer. Vhalla followed his eyes to the doorframe.

“Lie back down,” Aldrik mumbled with resignation.

Vhalla obliged and stared upward, hoping she’d feel less dizzy soon. Aldrik sighed and stood, moving to a cleric’s chest that sat open on a nearby dresser. He was picking out a bottle filled with a clear-syrup when the golden prince burst in without a knock.

“Vhalla, the hero!” he enthused. “I heard you had woken!”

“Word travels too quickly,” Aldrik cursed under his breath.

“How do you feel?” The younger prince walked over, ignoring his brother.

“Tired,” she said simply, truthfully.

“Yes,” Aldrik crossed the room to hand her the vial, and she took it without question in one gulp. “She should not be entertaining company right now.”

“Oh?” Prince Baldair cocked an eyebrow. “What are you then?”

Aldrik glared at his brother.

“Boys, don’t fight,” Vhalla muttered; she was too tired for their nonsense. Aldrik blinked at her in surprise and Prince Baldair chuckled. “How can I help you, my prince?”

“Our father would like to host you for breakfast.”

Vhalla blinked at the prince, fairly certain she heard him wrong. “Wh-why?” She stared in shock. The last time Vhalla had seen the Emperor up close he was passing judgment on her for an attempt on his son’s life. Vhalla sought silent guidance from Aldrik, but he had that stony walled-off glare he got around his brother.

“To thank you, I am sure,” Prince Baldair answered.

“She needs her rest,” Aldrik objected.

“Surely she has to eat?” the younger prince protested.

“I’m not in a state that is fit to see—” Vhalla paused; she couldn’t say “royalty” as half of the Imperial family was before her. “—to see the Emperor,” she finished.

“Father understands your situation. Don’t fret over decorum,” the golden prince countered with a smile.

Vhalla picked at the bandages around her fingers. “I suppose I cannot refuse my Emperor,” she said softly.

Aldrik looked at her with marked concern. “I will speak to my father.”

“It’s just breakfast.” Vhalla tried to reassure herself more than anyone else. Aldrik stared hopelessly at her, and she gave him an apologetic look.

“Excellent! An hour then.” Baldair clapped his hands together and left.

Aldrik shifted, pulling a chain that ran from a button to his pocket. He glanced at the silver pocket watch she’d admired on more than one night after their Projection practice. “You shouldn’t have agreed,” he murmured and returned to his prior position.

“Aldrik, when will you understand?” She struggled to sit again, pressing the heel of her palm to her forehead with a sigh. “I am never in a position to refuse your family.”

“What?” He seemed honestly confused.

Vhalla smiled tiredly, it was cute how clueless he was at times. “I am nothing, no rank or title. More so, I’m property of the crown. You or any of your family could order anything of me, and I would be forced to oblige.” Vhalla ran a hand up his forearm, but he pulled away briskly.

“Do you just oblige me?” Aldrik asked coolly.

Vhalla laughed. “Of course not. I enjoy being near you, hearing your thoughts, spending time with you. You’re one of the best things that have ever happened to me.” Vhalla smiled at him, and she saw the prince relax. How had she never realized how insecure he was?

“You’re so funny. Do I oblige you? Aldrik, I—” Vhalla stopped herself, her smile slipping in the wake of a revelation. “—I—”

Love you.

That’s what her mind wanted to say, and it hit her harder than the sandstorm.

“You?” He let the word hang expectantly.

Vhalla inhaled sharply. “I ...”

It was hopeless; she was hopeless. She loved him, and she couldn’t deny it anymore. One look had spurred her to race to a likely death on the notion of saving him. Now that she realized it, she realized how long she’d been hopelessly falling for this infuriating, charming, enigma of a man.

“Well, I ...” Vhalla met those dark black eyes. All the moments of his gaze came back to her in a flood of emotion. She remembered a night forever ago when he had held her with his stare alone in the library, pulling her from a dream. Vhalla remembered gazing into them as he’d held her during the gala, how she’d wanted him. She remembered waking up to them, more than once now, and wanting to see nothing more every time she roused.

“I really, truly ...” Vhalla reached out and touched his cheek lightly. His gaze had turned serious, and his breathing was shallower. Her stomach twisted in a knot. She could never, she would never, should never, have this man. And, for once, Vhalla gave into the alarms in her head.

“I love to be someone you consider your friend.”

Aldrik considered her for a long moment. His lips parted slightly and his eyes scanned her face. Vhalla wasn’t sure what he was looking for. Aldrik inhaled sharply, opened his mouth. Vhalla’s heart skipped two beats. He deflated and avoided her expectant stare.

“You should get ready to meet Father,” he said softly. Aldrik stood and adjusted his double-breasted coat without so much as a glance back at her. “I will return in thirty minutes.”

Vhalla tried to get in another word but the door had already closed behind him. She drew a quivering breath. “I love you, Aldrik,” she whispered into the silent air. The next breath was shakier than the last, the breath after was stuck in her throat with a pained whimper that she could only dislodge by releasing the tears.

Vhalla balled her hands into fists and buried her eyes in them. She had to compose herself; this was not the place or time to lose her wits over being in love with the crown prince.

First, she attempted denial. It wasn’t possibly love. She’d almost died, and he’d held her, he’d given her comfort. She was just clinging to him in an emotional state. Vhalla laughed with a hiccup and a rasp. She wasn’t sure if she had ever loved before, but she knew that this was it.

Then she tried to blame it on the Bond or the Joining. Clearly, it had affected both of them in multiple ways that was barely understood. It was creating something out of nothing. It had always been there as long as she had known him.

No, for as little she knew about the Bond academically, Vhalla was confident in her feeling of it. She felt the extension of herself into him, the calm his proximity brought from having that piece near her again. The Bond was a door, a window, a Channel; it didn’t alter them, it just gave them access to what lay beyond in the other. It let the truths they tried to keep hidden be exposed.

Finally, she attempted reason. Vhalla assured herself that it was simply a result of spending so much time with him on the march. Even Prince Baldair mentioned the needs one will have naturally. She saw him every day, he was her teacher, and it was easy to develop feelings for someone in such a position. Vhalla looked down at her palms. It wasn’t just the march.

Vhalla sighed, reclining onto the bed. She wasn’t sure when it had happened. Closing her eyes, she let the memories come in a painful flood of quiet sobs, looking at them in a way she never had before. Was it the moment he dropped those papers everywhere, when she stayed in that rose garden a minute longer than she had planned, his apology? Perhaps it was the moment he had run to her side, casting away whatever official duty he had when his brother and father returned South. Was it the minute her heart fluttered when he confessed he wanted to see her again? Or knowing he had begun to go out of his way for her? Could it have even started before she knew who he was but relished his mind through that beautifully curved script?

She realized that whenever it had happened, she had loved him before the moment he had seen her with Sareem. When her heart tightened with worry that he would think she was someone else’s. She had loved him when she had chosen to wear the black gala gown rather than an appropriately colored one. She loved him when she wanted nothing more than for him to stay by her side in the palace and never go off to war again.

Everything after had just been denial.

Vhalla opened her eyes and placed a hand over her mouth, muffling her tears. Now she knew. She knew that she was hopelessly in love with a man who would eventually leave her life. It was an earth-shattering revelation. Even if somehow they managed to stay near to each other by living in the palace, he would someday be the Emperor. He would marry someone befitting of his station, and she’d have to kneel before him and the woman who would be her Empress and mother of his children.

He had said titles didn’t matter, that he could give her any he wanted as the prince or Emperor. She’d believed him because she wanted to. She wanted to think it could be simple and beautiful. Vhalla had never told him why she was so wounded by Elecia’s words. That she wished for nobility to make it acceptable in the eyes of society for her to be around him. Not just as a friend, but as a lover. If he knew, he likely would’ve never said anything of granting her whatever title she wished.

The door opened suddenly, startling her. Snapping her head to the entry she saw Larel holding a small bundle of clothes. Vhalla tried to smile, she tried to be strong, but she only found herself crumbling again.

“Larel,” she choked out weakly. The other woman ran over, dropping the clothes on the foot of the bed and placing her hands on Vhalla’s shoulders.

“Vhalla, what is it? What hurts?” Larel inspected her bandages quickly.

Vhalla shook her head, dropping it into her hands. She couldn’t handle the concern; she couldn’t handle the shame for why she was breaking apart.

“Vhalla, please,” Larel pleaded.

“I love him,” she whispered through a ragged breath.

“What?” Larel asked, leaning closer.

“I love Aldrik.” Vhalla searched the other woman’s expression for something, anything.

“Oh, Vhalla,” Larel enfolded her into a warm hug. The motion shattered her control and Vhalla openly sobbed into Larel’s shirt. “Hush, hush ... What’s so awful about that?” Larel leaned back slightly, tilting her head to look at her.

“Because, because he will never want someone like me. Because I am not good enough to even deserve half of what he’s given me. Because, at the end of everything, no matter what we are, he will leave. Because I think he’s wonderful, and everything I will never have. Because ...” Vhalla took a shuddering breath. “Because, I don’t know if I’ve ever loved like this before and it terrifies me.”

Larel gave her a kind, tired smile. She ran her hand through Vhalla’s hair and pulled her close again. Larel stroked her back, and Vhalla allowed herself to shamelessly take in every comfort the other woman offered and then some. Eventually her initial panic—compounded through fear and despair—weakened and her tears returned to the realm of control.

“Vhalla,” Larel finally said. “I will not tell you what way is best. I cannot even pretend to know.” She sighed. “I will tell you that once something is broken with Aldrik, it is very difficult to fix it.” There was a sincere sorrow in the softness of Larel’s voice. “I will also tell you that you’re right, in this way it’s likely impossible for you to be anything permanent in his life. That if you try, you’re probably going to be met with heartbreak. You have to decide if the moment, however long it lasts, is worth overcoming that fear. Is worth him.”

Vhalla sighed, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. She wondered when Larel became so insightful and wished that the wisdom had been in her life much earlier than just the past year.

“To him, I’m just a—” Vhalla wasn’t sure what she was to the crown prince. She was more than his subject. Student didn’t seem to quite cover the extent of their relationship. A friend? Even that seemed laughable; she couldn’t ever recall holding her friends as she had held him before. “A ...” Vhalla paused, she didn’t have a good answer.

“I wouldn’t say just anything about you, Vhalla. I think you’re a lot more than you give yourself credit for. Especially to him.” Larel met her eyes with an unwavering stare. When it became clear she had no more words, Larel shifted, picking up the clothes.

“You’re going to meet the Emperor soon. I figured you’d want a change of clothes; I hope I chose all right, half isn’t dry yet.”

Vhalla considered Larel’s choice. Tan leather leggings with a gray woolen long-sleeved tunic. They smelled like crisp morning air, and the lack of grime further confirmed that they had been washed.

“How did you know?”

“Aldrik found me.” Larel smiled softly, and Vhalla gave a weak laugh. “Do you want help changing?” the older woman asked.

Vhalla shook her head. “Compared to some other experiences I’ve had when I’ve used that much magic, this isn’t that bad.” She could already feel the potion Aldrik had given her working.

Larel nodded. “All right, I’ll leave you to it then. I’d recommend this one before you go.” Larel pulled a vial of purple liquid and placed it by the chest of medicinal items. “It’ll numb things a bit and should level your head, if you need.”

“Thank you,” Vhalla said earnestly.

“Of course, Vhalla. Fritz and I are staying in this inn also. Your friends in the Golden Guard as well. We’ll be here when you get back. Good luck.” The woman smiled and departed.

Vhalla wondered what she was really being wished luck for.

She dressed as quickly as possible but it was also an opportunity to take stock of the condition of her body. Her shoulders were stiff and felt swollen; her elbows also reminded her of the pressure she had placed them under. Her hands were a bit of a mess, but on a positive side, nothing seemed broken.

There was a mirror in the room that instantly caught Vhalla’s attention. It was full-length, and she saw herself for the first time in months. Her hair had grown, down to somewhere around her shoulders, falling in tangled brown waves. Her face had thinned and her eyes seemed to have sunken slightly, the shadow of her brow bringing out the flecks of gold around her pupils. Muscles she didn’t even know she possessed were beginning to take form beneath taught skin. Even bandaged, she had a sharp and strong appearance, more confident than she felt.

Aldrik returned as she was taking an assessment of her condition. An odd mix of emotions overtook him the moment he saw her, and Vhalla’s heart instantly raced. She took a step toward him, swaying slightly at the pain in her knees. He was there in an instant, his arms supporting hers for balance.

“This is a bad idea.” His voice was low and it rumbled through his chest.

“I have a lot of those lately,” she said softly. Vhalla regained her footing and stepped away. She was afraid of what those dark eyes might see if she lingered too closely for too long. “Shall we?”

He pursed his lips together for a tentative breath but said nothing.

Aldrik walked first, holding the door open for her and leading her down a short flight of stairs. He wrapped an arm around her waist and held one of her hands in his as she hobbled downward. Daniel, Craig, Fritz, and Larel were milling about in an upscale lobby, clearly waiting for her. Aldrik made no haste in dropping his hands from her person.

“You really are alive,” Daniel whispered, as though she was a ghost.