VHALLA STARED AT her doorknob. She agreed to meet Aldrik today. He had invited her to lunch in the rose garden. Vhalla replayed the memory in her head with doubt. That was what happened. His confused gaze flashed through her mind as he had stared upon her and Sareem.
She twisted her fingers around each other. He would still want to see her, she assured herself. Vhalla grabbed her improvised mirror and fussed with her hair. It was the frizzy mess it always had been, and she stared at it hopelessly. He was the crown prince; she had no doubt he had been with women older, more beautiful, more experienced, and more refined than she. For all she knew, he was with one now.
Poking her finger through a new hole in her maroon tunic, Vhalla sighed. She was fussing over nothing, the apprentice in her scolded. The prince knew who she was. He had said it himself. Why would he associate with commoners like her?
The halls of the palace were mostly empty due to the festival. Those who were working flitted about carrying large trays of lavish food and pitchers of frothing drink. She kept her head down, wandering the passages washed in the afternoon sun.
Eventually, the people around her faded one by one in the hallways until Vhalla was alone. The garden appeared before her, and Vhalla entered through the same window as last time. It was a nice fall day, perfect for the festival. Some of the smaller plants had already begun to go dormant for the winter, and she wondered how long until the roses also began to fall.
The gardens and gazebo were deserted. Vhalla assured herself that she had only beaten him there, that he hadn’t forgotten. She wandered uncertainly throughout the gazebo, inspecting the roses. Thankfully, Aldrik did not keep her waiting for long.
Vhalla turned away from the center post of roses as she heard the click of his boots up the steps. Her heart pounded, and her mouth was dry. The prince fumbled with the door a moment before pushing it open. In one arm he balanced a decently sized wicker basket that emitted a tempting aroma.
They stared at each other, as though in disbelief. Vhalla swallowed. He straightened, adjusting the box.
“Hello,” she smiled. They had spent countless hours together. Nothing was different about this meeting, she reassured herself. Even if this meeting seemed to have no other purpose than for him to see her.
“Good afternoon,” he responded. Something in the resonance of his voice gave Vhalla pause. “You are fast this morning.”
“I had nothing else to do,” Vhalla replied, denying any kind of excitement—even to herself—over the meeting. He crossed the room, sitting on the far bench. Vhalla followed and took her prior seat at his side.
“I am beginning to think you never work. I will have to have a talk with our Master of Tome,” he declared in his princely tone.
Vhalla playfully stuck her tongue out like a child. “If I am not working, I think it may be because a certain Imperial Prince keeps taking me from work,” she retorted.
“Ah, you have me.” Aldrik grinned.
“It’s the festival, anyway.” Vhalla shrugged to hide her defensiveness at the notion that Aldrik may think she was lazy.
“It is,” he agreed. Opening the basket Aldrik revealed multiple trays of food, stacked upon each other. Vhalla had only heard the kitchen staff speak of preparing such luxuries, and the house servants whisper about sneaking bites in-between dinner for nobility. “I thought, perhaps, you had not eaten.”
Vhalla stared at the rows of carefully cut tea sandwiches. There was white bread, tan bread, bread with oats, and small rolls with brown crusts. She saw slices of cured ham and peppered turkey sneaking out from the sides, resting in beds of fresh produce. It seemed to practically glisten.
“Are you sure it’s okay?” she had to ask. “That food isn’t really meant for me.” He gave her a peculiar stare. “Staff, servants, we don’t eat food like this.”
“Well, now you do,” Aldrik said easily, lifting up the top tier to her. Vhalla’s stomach growled loudly enough to remind her that she had skipped dinner last night. Her face flushed bright red. “You cannot argue with that,” he chuckled.
Vhalla decided on an egg sandwich. The egg did not have the rubbery flavor or consistency like when they had been sitting for too long. There was not a mass of cream or butter sauce upon it either to hide the stale ingredients. Every flavor shined, and she stared at the small morsel in awe.
“What do the servants and staff eat?” the prince asked.
She regarded him curiously. “Sometimes stews, sometimes a rice hash, sometimes bread and meat.” Vhalla shrugged. “Normally whatever the kitchen has on hand. Two day old nights is how we refer to the worst nights. It’s things that the kitchen really should’ve discarded a day or two ago but covered in some kind of gravy or salt, and passes it off as food.” He’d stopped eating to stare at her, and she laughed at his still, almost horrified, look. “It really isn’t so bad. What do you normally eat?”
“Whatever I ask for,” he said, obviously.
Vhalla laughed louder. “It must be nice to be the prince.” She grinned, grabbing a few grapes from the tray and popping them into her mouth before starting on another sandwich.
He paused, his eyes fixed somewhere in the distance. “I suppose, in some ways,” Aldrik spoke slowly, and Vhalla swallowed her food to listen. “In others, I think I would rather be more common.”
“Other ways like what?” Vhalla asked quietly.
“You are free to make your own choices. I have...obligations,” he sighed cryptically.
“Obligations? Such as?” she asked, taking a small bite and listening intently.
“Well, my parrot,” he retorted and grinned at her scowl. “Lately, I have done a lot in my father’s absence. I have approved this or that, checked on the state of the Empire and capital, met with most of the ministers and senators,” he explained.
Vhalla was reminded of the day prior. She busied her mouth with another bite of food. Aldrik uncorked a bottle and passed it to her. What she had expected to be water was actually tea with a fruity flavor. It was refreshing and delicious; it almost made her forget the embarrassing moment from the precession of senators.
“I was at the Senate meetings yesterday.” He was apparently not going to let the possibility for an uncomfortable confrontation slide. It was his turn to avoid her stare. She watched him shift uneasily on the bench, completely ignoring the food. Could the prince even feel genuinely awkward?
“I know.” Vhalla instantly wished she had thought of something better to say.
“That boy you were with...” Aldrik began slowly, his spoken grace suddenly failing him.
“He’s my friend,” Vhalla responded quickly, her lips on overdrive. “His name is Sareem. We’ve been friends for years. He’s like a brother, really. He asked to take me out, and I agreed because I thought it was the right thing to do but, well, of course I had fun, he can be a laugh. But he’s just a friend.”
The prince stared at her intently through her uncomfortable and hasty proclamation. Obsidian eyes pinned her to the spot, and Vhalla met them with all the honesty she could muster. Sareem was only a friend, she realized as she looked at the prince. He was nothing more to her. Vhalla swallowed hard, keenly aware of a dangerous feeling that had rooted in her chest over the past months without her consent. What was she doing?
“He is...only a friend.” She didn’t know why she was whispering, or which one of them she was reassuring.
Aldrik’s eyes relaxed, the intensity in them fading into a warm heat that pulsed down to her toes with each beat of her heart. The corners of his mouth came next; instead of relaxing into their normal thin line, they eased upward into a small smile. Vhalla bit her lip, trying to hide her reaction to his joy—and failed.
“Friends are good to have,” the prince said suddenly, turning away and resituating the trays. He reached for a sliced strawberry. Vhalla did the same and they chewed away the moment.
“Are you and Larel only friends?” She wanted to hit herself the moment the question slipped from her lips. It wasn’t any of her business, and the prince’s answer wouldn’t matter. It didn’t matter how comfortable he had seemed in the other woman’s room. He could be with whoever he pleased, Vhalla reminded herself.
“Larel,” Aldrik said after a thoughtful second. Vhalla shifted uneasily at his pause. Heat began to rise to her cheeks, she had been so foolish. “I suppose she is like Sareem is to you. I have known her since I was a child. She was different from the others and seemed to be willing to speak with me, work with me, without fawning over the prince.”
Vhalla inspected the hem of her shirt. They were both Western, she mused, and Vhalla had no idea if Larel had a noble background or not. Most apprentices had some connection to nobility, which was how they became apprentices rather than servants.
“Do not fidget,” Aldrik said gently, resting his fingertips on the back of her hand. Vhalla jumped at the contact. “Yes, she is just a friend.”
The heat of his fingertips burned like the weight of his eyes, and Vhalla was entranced by both. They danced around something that neither seemed ready to admit. Vhalla did not think on it. The only thing she thought of was how close the prince’s face was to hers as he reached to touch her hand.
“Do you ever practice your sorcery?” Vhalla asked suddenly, diffusing the moment.
“I used to practice more frequently.” He straightened away and placed a hand on his hip. Vhalla instantly remembered his wound. She busied her mouth with another bite of food to avoid asking another stupid question. “Will you join the Tower?”
Vhalla stopped mid-chew. Untutored in decorum, she placed the half-eaten sandwich back in the box and wiped her palms on her knees. Aldrik’s eyes grazed over the action but he said nothing as she worked through her response.
“Aldrik,” she whispered softly, staring at the crimson roses that were their only company.
“Vhalla?” Confusion about her demeanor was evident in his voice.
“If I am Eradicated, what will happen to you?” When had word Eradicated begun to make her uncomfortable?
“What do you mean?” He arched a dark eyebrow.
“The Bond.” Vhalla looked to him, placing a palm on the bench between them. Her fingers almost touched his thigh. “You said it’s a magical connection, that it saved your life. If I am Eradicated, what will happen to you?”
“Do not concern yourself with that.” He shook his head. The motion caused a stray piece of hair to fall forward to arch around the side of his face.
“Do you know?” she asked with pursed lips. There wasn’t any point to her asking. Vhalla acknowledged to herself that eradication was no longer an option.
“I do not,” he relented with a small sigh. “But I wish for you to make your decision for yourself, not because—”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Vhalla interrupted the prince. He blinked at her. “Aldrik, I couldn’t make a decision if I knew it would hurt you.”
“Why?” he whispered.
“Because—” The sharp cry of an iron gate followed by the loud clang of it closing interrupted her. Vhalla looked to the door.
Heavy footsteps ground upon the gravel path. Vhalla barely recognized the gait of the step, but Aldrik did instantly. He straightened, and Vhalla did the same. The man that she had just spoken with so casually suddenly wore a face as hard as stone.
“Brother!” another male voice called energetically. “Brother, are you here?”
Two shadows appeared outside the fogged glass of the greenhouse, their outlines blurry and indistinguishable. The door to the gazebo opened, and a stocky prince walked in boldly. The man Aldrik had been with the day prior entered with him—the head of Senate. Prince Baldair looked across the room to Aldrik and then Vhalla.
“I did not realize you had company, brother.” A slow smile crept across his features.
“Baldair, I believe we have discussed—at length—that I am not to be disturbed within my garden.” Aldrik’s voice was tight and tense.
Vhalla missed the awkward exchange of the princes as the senator’s stare sent a shiver down her spine. The older man squinted his eyes, and a satisfied smirk grew from the corners of his mouth. The senator recognized her.
“I suppose I can see why now,” Baldair laughed. “Please forgive me, miss...” The head of Senate was not the only person to recognize the library apprentice in their midst. “You’re the girl from the library, the clumsy one! Vhalla, isn’t it?”
“Y-yes.” She couldn’t stop a stutter as the prince crossed the room and took her hand, kissing its back.
He had remembered her, though she wished for something more than her clumsiness. He had a brilliant smile, and Vhalla relaxed under his icy blue eyes. Her memories of the Heartbreaker Prince’s radiance didn’t do him justice.
“I didn’t expect a prince to remember my name,” she murmured in reply.
“No!” he gasped. “One as lovely as you should never be forgotten. And if you’re in the garden, I am sure my brother has not once forgotten your name.” He nudged Aldrik playfully.
Aldrik simply stared up at his brother, unmoving from his seat. She looked to the elder prince, confused by his dark glare.
“Baldair, what do you want?” Vhalla could almost see the tension in Aldrik’s jaw as he forced the words between his lips.
“Forgive your brother, my prince.” The senator gave a small bow. “There was a bird this morning. The eastern front of the southern host has crumbled in its attack. The Clan of Houl is now pressing on the East. I thought it an urgent matter for the war council.”
“A messenger would have sufficed.” Aldrik stood, glaring at his brother.
Vhalla rose stiffly, everyone else was on their feet, and she did not want to stand out any more than she already did.
“My sincere apologies for interrupting your lunch.” Nothing in the senator’s words sounded like an apology as his eyes assessed the half-eaten box of food. Aldrik looked back, following his stare.
Vhalla brought her hands together before her, grabbing her fingers with white knuckles to keep from fidgeting. Turning away from the senator and his brother, Aldrik’s eyes were significantly softer, but it was the trace of worry between his brows did not reassure Vhalla.
“It was nothing,” Aldrik responded, his voice void of emotion.
Vhalla knew he could not admit to associating with her. He was the crown prince—as if he would want anyone to know he had spent time with someone so lowly. She stared at her feet. She could never be anyone to him.
“My apologies to you as well, Vhalla...” The senator held the end of her name, waiting for her to fill in the empty space.
“Yarl,” she responded purely out of obligation.
“Vhalla Yarl,” the Senator repeated thoughtfully.
If Vhalla could rip her name from his tongue and mind she would have.
“I will be in attendance at your war council in a moment, Senator Egmun.” It must have been her imagination that Aldrik took a half-step between her and the senator.
“I’ll see her out.” Prince Baldair smiled, offering Vhalla his elbow. She stared at the appendage before looking back to Aldrik. His face was stony again. “You have more pressing matters, brother.”
“Indeed.” The crown prince turned, and Vhalla was left with no option but to take the golden prince’s arm.
The head of Senate, Egmun; Vhalla committed the name to memory. Aldrik walked out first and the dark prince did not even look back at her. The two men began talking halfway to the gate, but Vhalla only heard the wind as her prince left her behind with his brother.