Текст книги "Air Awakens"

Автор книги: Elise Kova

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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

THE WHOLE ROOM faded away. The high society could keep their judgments and jeers; they would not touch Vhalla tonight. For several long steps the only person she saw was him, the only judgment that mattered was his—and it felt amazing. The smoldering pair of dark eyes hungrily fed on her every movement.

Alone, she approached the dais and stopped at ground level. Vhalla attempted to dip gracefully into a curtsy, just as Baldair taught her. She had no doubt that one day of training would not make her a graceful swan of high society, but she didn’t fall upon her nose. That was good enough. Vhalla began a mantra in her head to get her though the night, smile, grace, pose, float, smile.

“Welcome to our Gala, Lady Rose,” the Emperor boomed warmly, not unlike Prince Baldair she thought amusingly. Vhalla tried to find Aldrik in the muscular and weathered man. She tried to imagine Emperor Solaris without the closely cropped beard along his jaw, seeing if she could see any of the eldest prince’s striking features. “We hope you enjoy the celebrations.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Vhalla kept her eyes averted. She had just become accustomed to speaking with princes. The idea of exchanging words with the Emperor himself was still much.

“Baldair,” the Empress’s voice interrupted. “I thought you told me you invited this one yourself.”

“I did,” Baldair announced loud enough to earn some not so subtle stares from a group of ladies at Vhalla’s right.

“Did you not also inform her what was proper to wear to a gala?” the Empress sniffed in her airy tones. Nothing about her speech sounded like Aldrik. “Lady Rose, my son is well versed in fashions, you should have taken his input to heart.”

Vhalla opened her mouth, unsure of what to say. The whispers around her resumed, and her tongue had gone fat and limp. Cerulean eyes stared her down.

“I think she looks stunning.” Aldrik finally spoke and his voice was soothing to Vhalla’s sizzling nerves. Their eyes met and the corner of his mouth curled up slightly as he looked at her. Vhalla looked down again to hide a blush.

“Oh my, dear,” the Empress turned to the Emperor in a hush. “See, he is a bad influence. People will begin to think such dress is acceptable.”

“Come, let us relax and enjoy our evenings.” The Emperor dismissed his wife, as well as Vhalla, with a wave of his hand.

Pleased to no longer be the center of attention, Vhalla fled quickly to the outer edge of the room. People parted to make way for her, though no one addressed her directly. She dared a look back at Aldrik, who was greeting the guest announced after her.

He looked closed off again and sounded curt, but she savored the image of his face in her mind, replaying that stunned look again and again. If she went back to her room right now, the evening would be a success. As the sky grew darker outside, more of the finer players in society began to filter in. Vhalla pretended to be interested in their greetings to the royal family, but really it was an excuse to look at Aldrik.

He wore a long black, double-breasted coat. It fell to right above his knees and had a slit in the back for movement. It was unbuttoned at the top and a perfect triangle was pinned open to show a white-collared shirt with a wide, black necktie that was tucked into a vest beneath his jacket.

It wasn’t quite like the neck ruffles some of the men were sporting, but it did have a bit of volume to it. The jacket was stitched with patterns of the sun, all in black that caught the light perfectly as he moved. Golden rope decorated his cuffs and arms. Beneath he wore a pair of black trousers—Vhalla was beginning to grow suspicious if he actually owned any other color—with more golden piping down the sides. His normal boots were replaced with well-polished, black dancing shoes. Aldrik’s hair was the same as he’d always worn it, save for a golden circlet that was simple in design, a flat rectangular band across his brow.

She found she much preferred his fashion to the colors and pomp of everyone else. Even Prince Baldair had ruffles coming out of his sleeves and peeking out around his coat, ruffles that bounced when he moved; the Southern styles made Vhalla want to laugh.

From time to time, Aldrik would glance in her direction. She’d give him a small smile in reply and enjoy the heated darkness of his eyes. After the formalities had been exchanged and most the guest list was in attendance, the Emperor called for the Gala to begin.

The minstrels paused, adjusted their instruments, and picked up a new tune. Vhalla attempted to count the beat as the golden prince had told her to do, but she was hopeless at the technical aspects of music. Instead she simply hummed along to the instrumental of a classic Southern ballad and tapped her foot as the dance floor filled. She didn’t even notice the royal family had stepped off their pedestal until Prince Baldair was upon her.

“My lady, fairer than the flower of her namesake, will you grant me the honor of this dance?” All his charm was mustered as he dipped into a half bow. Vhalla blinked at the idea of a prince bowing to her. He looked up expectantly at her silence.

“The first dance?” she hissed nervously. Suddenly aware of how many eyes were on her, Vhalla quickly nodded. It was only the expected thing to do when a prince asked you to dance. “Of course, my prince.”

Vhalla curtsied and a calloused hand pulled her onto the dance floor. It was the dance he had taught her, three steps and repeat. Vhalla struggled to remember his steps but her feet did little more than clumsily shuffle along.

Luckily, Prince Baldair had years of training and was a stunning dancer. He guided her effortlessly, navigating her across and between other dancers as they turned. His showmanship made up for her clumsy feet, so much so that she actually felt like she could dance. His hands were gentle and soft as they guided her and his arms supportive to prevent her from falling.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“You promised me a dance.” He flashed her a dazzling smile.

“Yes but, everyone is watching.” Vhalla glanced over his shoulders at the people lining the dance floor.

“What else would they do?” Baldair chuckled, extending his arm. Vhalla turned as expected before he drew her close once more. He smelled of something warm, like vanilla, and Vhalla wondered if he could smell the sweet perfumes that the servant girls had applied behind her ears. There was no question as he leaned in, his breath ruffling her hair over her ear. “If you walk into this Gala in black, you will leave the-strange-lady-that-knew-nothing. Dancing with the Heartbreaker Prince for his first dance? That makes you a dark and mysterious woman everyone wants to meet.”

He pulled away, and Vhalla looked up at him, allowing the rest of the room to dissolve for one moment. Her feet moved without thought, and she simply looked at the man who led her across the floor.

If she had more time to get to know the man known as Heartbreaker, what she would learn?

“Smile, Vhalla. You’re stunning when you do,” the prince encouraged with a smile of his own, and Vhalla relaxed under his hands.

They danced the rest of the song and halfway into the next before there was a tap on his shoulder.

“My prince, may I cut in?” A gentleman gave a small bow. Prince Baldair pulled her close to his side by her waist; he leaned in dramatically as if he was sharing some dark secret.

“I told you so,” he whispered in her ear. Then he continued more loudly, “You may, good sir, but only so long as I do not see you acting a fool, or I shall have to claim the lady back from you!” Both men chuckled and Vhalla was passed along.

She danced with three more men she had never met, all of whom seemed nice enough and complimented her attire. They seemed fascinated with who she was and where she was from, apparently looking to pin the color choice on some foreign and peculiar cultural difference. She answered as vaguely as possible, keeping the illusion. For one night she could be this mysterious lady.

Four songs later, the band struck up a large group dance in which people were paired at random before turning, circling, doing a small dance, and exchanging partners. After her first two partners Vhalla found herself eye to eye with the Head Elect of the Senate.

“Lady Rose,” Egmun smiled as their palms and forearms touched. They circled around each other. “Or should I call you Vhalla Yarl?”

He gripped her hand and pulled her to him roughly. Vhalla made a small squeak of surprise but everything else was lost as the man leaned in close to her. She was trapped between decorum and a sincere wish to push the man away with force.

“Look at you, playing the part of a proper lady. But we both know who you really are.” He held her too closely; she needed air. “Just a library girl, a commoner of low birth and no title to speak of. Then again,” he sneered at her as they linked arms, “you’re not just a library girl, you’re a library girl who takes secret lunches with the emotionally stinted crown prince.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Vhalla looked at the other couples dancing around them, praying they weren’t overheard.

“Oh, don’t play ignorant. Tell me, is Lady Rose Prince Baldair’s pet and Vhalla Yarl Prince Aldrik’s?” Vhalla’s mouth fell open. “I’ve hardly even seen the crown prince with a woman, and I have known him for quite a few years more than you. Are you someone special? Tell me, has Prince Aldrik finally taken another lover?”

Vhalla’s cheeks flushed against every scrap of will she had, and the Senator watched each growing shade of red with a dangerous glint to his eye. Taking a deep breath she shook her head and dug deep for her diminishing supply of courage.

“Please excuse me, Senator, I fear I have overheated from all the dancing,” Vhalla announced boldly.

“Certainly.” The senator released her, save for her hand; she fought a grimace as his lips brushed upon its back. “Perhaps you may retreat into the gardens for some air. I hear those dressed in black prefer the darkness.”

The music shifted and partners changed. Vhalla stepped out of the dancing reel. She couldn’t stop herself from looking back. Egmun was smiling and carrying on as though nothing had happened. Vhalla started for the balcony that overlooked the water gardens. She felt a pair of eyes on her back, lifting the hairs at the nape of her neck. She turned, but couldn’t find anyone’s gaze to pin it upon. Vhalla brought her hands together and fidgeted as she plunged through the crowd and into the mostly unpopulated night.

The terraced water gardens had a grandeur that she had never seen before, with wide semi-circular structures overlapping at different intervals of height. The wall of each was thin white marble and the water contained within was flawless and still, reflecting the night sky like a mirror. Marble stairs led down from the balcony and cut a winding path through the inky blackness of the water. Small, circular plant gardens had been placed at varying intervals along its lazy way before it wrapped back around again on the balcony’s other side.

She clutched the railing and took a deep breath of the clean night air. How dare someone speak of her and Aldrik in such a manner! It wasn’t as though they were... Vhalla looked out across the garden with a small sigh, what were they anyway? Briefly, something in the darkness shifted before leaning back against a tree. Vhalla was down the steps without glancing over her shoulder.

The stars stretched out above and around her as she walked to that small oasis of marble and greenery. She stepped up onto the platform, holding her dress, careful not to trip, and smiled faintly. This was what she had come for.

Aldrik stepped away from the tree’s trunk.

“What are you doing here?” The question was slightly accusatory, but there was no aggression in the prince’s voice.

“Your brother invited me.” Vhalla walked under the shadow of the foliage.

Aldrik snorted in disgust and shook his head. “A woman comes at my brother’s call.” He took a half step away from her. “I have heard every variation of that before.”

“I didn’t come for him,” Vhalla whispered softly. The gardens were surrounded by a tall palace wall that blocked most of the mountain winds. The prince heard her with little problem, his retreat stalled. “I came to see you.”

“Me?” He looked back in disbelief.

“Yes, you,” Vhalla laughed softly. Her chest hurt, and she couldn’t decide if it was from happiness or heartbreak. “And you’re out here trying to skip the party.”

“I could not stand watching all of them, my brother, dance with you,” he said defensively.

“Well, why didn’t you ask me then?” She tilted her head to the side, a touch coy.

“Fine. Vhalla Yarl, may I have this dance?”

He held out his hands, and she crossed the remaining distance. His right hand timidly landed on her waist and her right hand settled in his left. She placed her free hand on his shoulder and, ever so faintly, they heard the echo of music across the water. He stepped first.

It was a slow dance with deliberate steps. He didn’t possess the flair that his brother did, but he didn’t need to. Vhalla felt his movements through his palms, the shifts in his waist, the closeness of this way or that. They danced together to a faint melody drifting across the water, among the star-filled pools, with the heavens shining down upon them. She closed her eyes and felt him with every sense she possessed.

He turned and pulled her a half step closer, she obliged with a full step. It was impossible to move without touching somewhere. Each brush of fabric or turn of the head sent chills through her. When his hand shifted from her waist to the small of her back, gooseflesh dotted her arms. She looked up at him and he met her eyes. The silence wasn’t awkward or stressful; it spoke more eloquently between them than they had ever been able to speak with words.

The song finished, but he held her there. Looking away, she clutched the seams of his jacket and rested her left cheek on his chest. Aldrik stiffened briefly, and Vhalla held her breath, expecting to be pushed away. He let her hand go and trailed his fingers down her arm to her shoulder, before it rested with his right on her lower back. His skin was warm, almost hot, and she could feel the outline of his hand even through the corset and dress. Vhalla moved her free hand to his other shoulder, and they stood there together for a long time in silence. He rested his cheek on her forehead and took a breath. Vhalla willed with everything she had for the world to stop so she could linger in the moment eternally.

In those fleeting moments, the complexities of titles and who they were faded into base emotion. She wanted, she needed him. This man, who was regarded as little more than a curt and dark monster, had somehow claimed her without ever truly touching her before this night.

“Vhalla,” her eyes fluttered closed at the mention of her name. “First the library boy, then Baldair. I am envious of them.”

“Why?” She needed to hear the answer.

“Because they seem to have no trouble finding reasons to be around you. And I...” A deep chuckle resonated through the crown prince’s chest into the ear she had pressed against it. “I struggle to find a reason, and when I am with you I struggle still.”

There was something strange about his voice. It held a barely audible huskiness that sent heat to the pit of her stomach. Vhalla tightened her grip on his clothes.

“You shouldn’t struggle for anything, you’re the crown prince,” she breathed into the crisp autumn air.

“I may be a prince,” he said as his lips brushed her ear lightly. “But I would trade it all to be a common man, even if only for tonight.”

His lips made her knees feel weak. Vhalla shifted her head to look up at him; Aldrik wore an unfamiliar and heavy expression. She wished she had years with him to hear his stories, to talk about his pains and his joys, to continue to enjoy slow afternoons together, to work out the strange struggle between them that was both irresistible and undeniable. But a clock ticked in the back of her mind. Dawn would come far too soon.

“Are you really leaving?” she whispered faintly. He sighed and glanced away. Vhalla lifted her hand and cupped his cheek, turning his face back toward her. He didn’t resist her touch, and she searched his pained expression.

“I do not know the exact hour. But yes, soon,” Aldrik confessed in a deep rumble.

She bit her lower lip and shifted her hand up his face. Her fingertips grazed his pronounced cheek, his brow, and forehead. Vhalla paused, stopping on the golden crown that was nothing more than a barrier between them.

“Then for one night, if I can pretend I am a lady of noble birth—” She grabbed the circlet gently with her fingertips and lifted it off his brow. He stiffened as she dropped it to the ground. “—can you pretend you are a common man?”

Vhalla wasn’t sure what she fully implied as his eyes grew wide. Aldrik’s lips parted in surprise. All she knew was that if he was to leave, she didn’t want to leave without experiencing his closeness and warmth.

“I’m afraid, if you leave...” she choked out, thinking of a rainy night that seemed so long ago.

Aldrik lifted his hand to her cheek and lightly ran his fingertips down her face, as if he was worried she may break at any moment. Very briefly his thumb touched her lips and his arm tightened around her waist, eliminating any remaining distance between them. Vhalla felt him along her whole body; his warmth, his presence enveloped her.

“Vhalla,” he whispered with a voice as dark as midnight. His nose was almost touching hers.

“Aldrik,” she breathed faintly, as though it was a prayer. No word had ever tasted sweeter on her tongue.

As she felt his warm breath on her face, he paused and turned his head toward the city, his expression drastically changed. Vhalla looked over, frustrated and confused.

The first fiery explosion rang out through the clear night, sending shockwaves across the capital of the Empire.

A SECOND BEFORE THE blast, Aldrik turned his body so that his back was toward the explosion. His hand was buried in Vhalla’s hair as he pressed her protectively to his chest. She clung to him, trembling. Her ears had not yet stopped buzzing when the second explosion shook the mountainside, and Aldrik’s arms pulled her tighter. She cried her fear into his chest at the mind-numbing sound. For a moment there was silence, and she tried to catch her breath. However, the stillness was short-lived as slow-growing noise began to float up from the city below.

Screams, cries, and wails carried up the mountainside, and Vhalla pressed her hands over her ears. Aldrik continued to hold her tightly while she regained a shaky control.

“Wh-what?” she asked frantically, all words and thoughts falling to the rising panic. His grip loosened as he looked over his shoulder. Vhalla shifted her body so her eyes could follow his.

A fire was already beginning to sweep through the city, jumping from house to house. Smoke began to blot out the stars and cover the city in a foul, orange haze.

Vhalla took a step away from him, toward the scene.

“Where—” she stammered, “—where is that?” Her brain felt scrambled from noise and shock.

“Vhalla, you need to return to the palace. Now.” Aldrik’s tone was sharp and he grabbed her forearms, refusing to let her wander from him.

She resisted his tugs, glued to the scene. Something fitted into place in her mind.

“Vhalla,” Aldrik moved in front of her, a hand on her cheek. “The guards will be mobilized. I’ll go help myself,” he said, trying to be assuring, but his voice sounded strained and panicked. “But I need you to go back in the palace where it’s safe.”

Vhalla stepped to the side of him and looked back at the scene. Her eyes widened as her brain returned to life. She inhaled sharply, her breathing rough.

“R-Roan, Sareem.”

“What?” She barely heard Aldrik ask, he sounded far away.

Vhalla pointed. “That’s where the square of the sun and moon is, isn’t it?” her voice raised in fear.

“I don’t know, Vhalla.” Aldrik shook his head trying to take her hand again.

“It is.” She looked back, and there was no doubt. “Roan, Sareem! Aldrik, my friends are there!” She turned back to the scene.

“So were half the commoners in the city. Now, back in the palace,” he snapped and grabbed her wrist with force.

“No!” she cried, wrenching her hand back. “No! They need my help.” Vhalla turned and felt a hot wind rise up to the sky, carrying the smell of fire. She remembered her confrontation with Roan, telling her of Sareem’s plans to meet her at the bakery near plaza. Vhalla had never told Sareem anything different, and Roan most certainly would have gone to claim the man she loved. Vhalla’s chest tightened. She hadn’t apologized to either of them. She hadn’t even had a chance to explain what was happening to her.

Without any thought, Vhalla was running, ignoring the prince’s cries at her back. Her fancy heeled shoes were soon left behind on the marble, and Vhalla moved quickly in her bare feet. One of the terraces stretched outward to the top of the wall and Vhalla sprinted across the shallow water, her skirts quickly growing water-logged and heavy. She heard a splash and looked behind her—Aldrik had given chase.

“Vhalla! Stop this! You’re not going to be able to help them!” he cried.

But, she wasn’t ready to hear reason. All that filled her ears were the sounds of screams. All that filled her nose was smoke and death. All that filled her eyes was a burning inferno closing upon two people she had known for half her life—friends she had foolishly shut out.

Vhalla reached the wall and hoisted herself up. It was much taller on the other side, taller than even the bookcases of the Imperial Library. She looked down a moment, uncertain.

“Vhalla, they may not even be there.” Aldrik had caught up with her. His breathing was fairly easy where hers was labored.

Vhalla began to rip at the gathering on her skirt, starting a tear between her calves and knees. “They were there,” she insisted.

“You don’t know,” Aldrik insisted.

“Come down.” “Sareem would have waited all night for me!” She choked a sob of guilt as she looked at the sky. It was past their arranged time to meet. If she had just told him the truth, he and Roan may have spent the evening in the palace as the three of them had so many years prior. Burdened with guilt and grief, Vhalla jumped off the other side of the wall.

The air rushed past her ears and around her, blowing the remaining skirt this way and that. Vhalla braced herself but she landed lightly in a crouch.

“Vhalla!” Aldrik called from atop the wall.

She stared up at him, offering an apologetic expression before plunging herself into the chaos of the streets.

While she had lived in the capital all of her adult life, Vhalla had spent most of it in the palace. The alleyways could be tricky and maze-like even on the best of days, but now they seemed like passageways through the horrors of the afterlife for evildoers. People pushed against her from every which way, fleeing from the place she was struggling to reach. Some had burns covering their bodies, their clothing hanging in tattered rags. Others had open wounds with blood flowing from them.

Vhalla stepped in something warm and soft that squished between her toes. She looked down in horror to see the remnants of a man who had been trampled to death by the stampede of people. His skull had been crushed and his bones shattered on the street. Unable to handle the sight a second longer, Vhalla darted down a dead-end ally and vomited, screamed as she stared at her bloody feet, and her stomach heaved again.

A third explosion thundered through the air. Vhalla cried out and dropped to the ground covering her ears. She was much closer this time, and she could hear the houses groan around her as the earth shuddered with the force of the blast.

“Vhalla! Come here!” A man’s voice cried loudly, and she looked up. Aldrik stood atop the palace wall. He had run parallel to her as she descended the city, but the wall was going to make a turn.

She clutched her knees to her chest and trembled, her mind going numb momentarily. A woman’s cry pierced the air, jolting Vhalla back to her senses. Roan and Sareem were still out there. She stood and looked back again at Aldrik with apologetic eyes.

“You stupid girl!” he roared and then jumped from the wall.

First, he landed onto a thatched roof not too far below, ran along it to a single story home that lined Vhalla’s alley and rolled down until he caught the edge of the roof. Releasing himself, he landed fairly easily and stomped over to her. Vhalla could almost feel his palpable anger as he grabbed her arm.

“You—are—completely—mad,” he ground out through grit teeth, shaking her.

“You didn’t have to come!” She shrugged him off with a step back.

“You must think me soulless if you really thought I’d sit back and watch you gallivant to your death!” he shouted, though in the mayhem she could still barely hear him.

“So are you forcing me back into the castle?” Vhalla asked, ready to turn and run once more.

“I should,” he snapped. “But I can see you desire nothing more than to be the martyr, and since no one else is here to prevent that, the task falls to me. So lead on.” She looked at him in shock. “Go!” he snarled.

She ran with him at her back.

Back in the pandemonium no one seemed to notice—or care—that the crown prince was among them. Vhalla saw women clutching babes to their breasts, struggling to escape from the horrors below. She saw an old man simply sitting on a step, waiting for his fate to come.

Slowly the crowd began to thin and the temperature rose.

“Vhalla,” she turned. Aldrik pulled off his coat and handed it to her. She looked at him strangely. “For the heat, and for some protection from the flames.” Vhalla considered the orange glow on path before them and took his coat with a nod. He rolled his eyes and pulled off his shoes and socks.

“Don’t you need them?” she asked as she quickly donned the garments. The shoes were too large, even with the laces as tight as possible, but they were better than nothing.

“Remember who I am before you ask stupid questions.” He rolled up his sleeves and stood barefoot in his trousers, white shirt, black vest, and tie. She might have laughed at the sight, if the world wasn’t ending around her.

Vhalla turned back to the road ahead. Soon they began to pass more dead bodies than living ones. The smell of burning flesh assaulted her senses. After they were six flaming houses deep, the scent forced her to stop and retch again. Aldrik placed his hand on her back and she looked at him weakly.

“I don’t smell it anymore,” he explained. His face had taken on a freakish stillness, whereas Vhalla felt she was slowly loosing herself to madness. There was no choice now but to press on.

The fire popped and cracked around her, and she heard a building collapse not far away. The square wasn’t far now. Aldrik used his magic to gain control over smaller flames, to extinguish fires with waves of his arms as they went, clearing their path.

Vhalla came to a sharp halt.

Bodies littered the square. Men, women, children scattered about with their remains twisted in unnatural positions, their faces locked in horror even in death. Some of the corpses were aflame, others soaked in pools of their own blood. They had been blown apart, limbs scattered this way and that, disconnected from their previous owners.

“By the Mother...” Vhalla raised her hand to her mouth, a renewed panic pulsing through her veins. The street with The Golden Bun was off to the left. At first, she tried to step carefully over the bodies, but in the end she ran over them, a horror rising in her gut with each sickening soft spot her feet landed on. She was crying, despite the heat and the flames, tears streamed down her face.

Then she was falling.

Tripping on an arm, a leg, or over her oversized footwear, Vhalla landed across a woman’s body, face-to-face with a girl who had a piece of wood lodged in her skull, one eye staring at her blankly.

Vhalla screamed and tried to move away, but all around her was death and carnage. Two strong hands helped lift her up and back onto her feet.

“It is not far now, is it?” Aldrik asked almost mechanically. She shook her head. “Go on.” He pushed her gently, and Vhalla found her feet again.

She rounded the corner and broke into an all-out sprint. Half of The Golden Bun had collapsed, the rest was aflame. The building next to it had been reduced to rubble, and a small crater in the street suggested one of the explosions’ epicenters.

“Sareem!” Vhalla put her hands to her mouth and called frantically. “Roan!”

Her voice was raw after shrieking three more times. She looked at the bodies on the ground, turning them over or trying to imagine what their faces may have been. By the outside patio she shifted a fat man and saw a tuff of familiar, cropped, blonde hair beneath.

“Aldrik!” Vhalla screamed frantically. “Aldrik, help me!” He was at her side in an instant, pulling the fat man off Roan. Vhalla looked at her friend, she was bruised and broken but in one piece. Vhalla put her ear to the other woman’s breast.

“She’s breathing!” Vhalla cried. “We have to find Sareem.”

Vhalla looked around; if Roan was here, Sareem had to be close. She began to shift more bodies, treading closer to the former bakery. Vhalla tore at the rubble, leaving bloody handprints behind, no longer sure if the blood was hers or others. Aldrik took control of the nearby inferno and kept the fire at bay while she searched. Larel had said that Firebearers could not feel heat, so the beads of sweat that rolled down his temples could only be explained by exertion.

“Vhalla,” he said faintly, looking around.

“He’s here somewhere,” she pleaded, more with the universe than her companion, hoping that she was not wrong.

“Vhalla.” Aldrik’s voice was sterner.

“I know he’s here. He wouldn’t leave Roan, and he was waiting for me.” Her voice was frantic as she lifted a rock and heaved it aside. “I-I never told him I wasn’t coming. He thought I was still going to come for him.”