IF VHALLA COUNTED the reasons for her to be escorted by Prince Baldair, she would use zero fingers. Yet she strolled with him through the garden and past the gate. Her hand rested in the crook of his elbow and Vhalla realized that, despite his size, he was not as warm as his brother.
She stole a glance down the hall where Aldrik and the senator had turned. They were nowhere to be seen. Not even a faint echo of their voices could be heard. To add to her discomfort, Prince Baldair led her in the opposite direction. The opulence was the same as the last time she walked with Aldrik, but the servants must have been ignoring their cleaning duties due to the festival for it did not shine as brightly today.
“So,” the prince finally started. His voice was higher than Aldrik’s, less gravely. But it was a rich and full sound, almost song-like. “How does someone like you end up in my brother’s garden?”
“Someone like me?” Vhalla asked carefully. She knew exactly what he meant, but perhaps answering his question could be avoided if she turned it back upon him.
“A library apprentice,” Baldair grinned. He ran a hand through his ear-length wavy blonde hair. His easy response told her he had seen through her efforts to dodge his inquiry.
“I...” Vhalla looked at the thin cracks between the tiled marble beneath her feet. She wished she was small enough to slip through one and fall to the center of the earth. You’re a bad liar, Sareem’s words echoed in her treacherous mind.
“He’s not blackmailing you or anything, is he?” There was genuine concern in his voice.
“What?” Vhalla blinked up at the prince. “No, of course not.”
“Well, I know you weren’t enjoying his company.” Prince Baldair gave a full laugh as though he had made a great joke.
Vhalla frowned. Aldrik would not want her to disclose that they enjoyed each other’s company, or at least she did his. But she felt strange standing there without defending him in the face of a blatant insult.
“I think he has an astoundingly sharp mind,” she answered delicately.
Prince Baldair looked at her sideways. “That may be one of the nicest things I have ever heard a staff or servant say about my brother. Let’s see, I’ve heard egotistical, a royal pain, his head stuck in a variety of places that I don’t think are anatomically possible...” The prince laughed again.
Vhalla felt her whole body tense. “I doubt those people took the time to understand him,” she mumbled.
Prince Baldair stopped laughing and looked at her queerly. “You’re so polite, Vhalla.” Prince Baldair chuckled. “Fine, fine, I won’t push you to be anything but the good girl...for now,” he added with a wink.
Vhalla’s cheeks were stubbornly hot. The younger prince seemed to love jesting. “How is the front?” she asked, struggling for a change of topic that wouldn’t reveal too much to the Heartbreaker Prince.
“Much like my father said, the Northern capital refuses to fall. A few clans continue to resist, but we will have them in time.” He spoke as easily about it as if it was the weather.
“Is what’s happened serious?” Vhalla asked, glancing over her shoulder. They had long since passed the entrance to the servants’ and staffs’ quarters, and Vhalla’s tension slowly ebbed due to her curiosity over the towering walls of glittering gold and carved stone around her.
“What’s happened?” he repeated. Prince Baldair held out his arm as she momentarily was distracted by inspecting a fresco. He remained close enough to maintain contact; Vhalla did not realize how close.
“The war council—” She turned and almost bumped face-first into his wide, muscular chest.
“Oh that,” the younger prince chuckled. “I’m certain it’ll be fine. I have no doubt Father wants to ensure Aldrik understands everything that has occurred for when he returns to the front.”
Vhalla stopped. Everything stopped. Only her breathing and heartbeat moved in the whole world. As Vhalla stared at a distant point, she missed the blonde’s quizzical gaze. It was as though she could see the moment Aldrik would leave. He would go back to war.
“Vhalla?” The golden prince turned. Much more forward than his brother, calloused palms wrapped themselves around her shoulders, completely covering them.
Her head snapped up at the handsome man who now filled her vision, her trance broken. She struggled to form words, and he seemed content to wait.
“Sorry.” Vhalla shook her head, pressing her eyes closed. How had she not realized it before feeling the crippling horror at the idea of the prince leaving? How had these emotions crept up on her? “I just, felt dizzy.”
“Dizzy?” The prince made a low humming noise in the back of his throat. “Now, we can’t have any of that.”
With a laugh and a surprisingly graceful motion for such a mountain of a man, he lifted her small form into the air with ease. There was no hope for Vhalla as she blushed. She fumbled clumsily with her hands, not knowing where to place them as her entire side was flush against the royal’s chest.
“I’m fine!” She shook her head.
“Nonsense. I interrupted your lunch; I’m certain any lightheadedness is from that. Allow me to remedy such.” The prince grinned, and Vhalla sat helpless in his palms.
Vhalla was distracted from her awkward position as they entered a central atrium with a beautiful stained glass dome, the sun at its apex casting a kaleidoscope of colors on the floor. A gold staircase spiraled around the atrium with several halls leading off at various levels. On the floor was a mosaic of the palace done in painstakingly small tiles.
Vhalla gazed upward in awe as the prince carried her through its center. She stared up at a picture of the world cast in sparkling yellows. A crescent continent was off to the side of the Empire’s mainland, barrier islands in emerald dotting the space between the two land masses. Oceans were cast in sapphire blues, and she saw hints of land upon the edges of the dome, lands she had never heard of and wondered if they even existed.
“It’s astounding, isn’t it?” the prince asked.
Vhalla hadn’t even realized they had stopped walking.
“It is,” she agreed easily, beginning to find herself comfortable in his arms.
“My father wakes every day and sees his Empire shining down upon him,” the prince mused, surprisingly eloquent.
“I can’t imagine what it would be like,” she whispered.
“Just ask my brother.” Baldair laughed and continued on down a hall covered in a plush white carpet.
Her mind began to spiral down a staircase of thoughts surrounding his suggestion. Aldrik would be the Emperor. After spending so much time getting to know the man, it suddenly seemed impossible. Her teacher, her friend, the man she had come to...
Baldair placed her lightly on the ground before a door large enough for two people to fit through side-by-side.
“Where are we?” There was nothing to mar the white walls and golden vaulted ceilings of this particular hall, except for the door she stood before and one mirror opposite.
“My chambers,” the prince replied.
“What?” Vhalla practically jumped out of her skin. “My prince, I do not think that this is appro—”
The door swung open under his large hands and light flooded the hall. Vhalla blinked, her eyes adjusting to the brilliance. She was pulled in with hypnotic curiosity.
The largest windows she had ever laid eyes upon dominated the entire wall opposite the door. He had said they were his chambers, but Vhalla did not see a bed in sight. She did however see two separate sitting areas, a fully-set table for six, a well-stocked full bar to her right, instruments, Carcivi boards, darts, a harp, a lute, and every other form of entertainment.
“What do you think?” He leaned against the doorframe.
“It’s...” There weren’t words to describe it. “This is where you live?” Vhalla felt it must be taboo for her to be in this space, that were she to touch anything it would burst into flames under her fingertips.
“Where else would it be?” The prince chuckled, pulling a rope that hung behind the bar.
“Where is your bed?” Vhalla tried to count the number of her personal chambers that could fit in the prince’s main entertainment room. She lost count at fifteen.
“Through that door,” the prince pointed.
“There’s more?” She tried to consider the length of the hall they’d just traversed and how much could be hidden away behind the other doors.
“A fair bit.” He nodded. Crossing over, he assessed her with his hands on his hips and a wicked little grin between his stubble clad cheeks. “Would you like to see my bed?”
Heat was back on her face, and Vhalla opened and shut her mouth like a fish trying to find air above water. She was in over her head with this man, and there was no hope for escape.
The moment a servant appeared in the doorframe, and Prince Baldair’s eyes were off her, she said a prayer to the Mother.
“My prince?” The man gave a low bow. Vhalla glanced at the rope the prince had pulled.
“I would like lunch for two, please,” Prince Baldair commanded.
“What would you care for?” The servant dared not to even raise his eyes. Vhalla realized how bold she had become before royalty.
“Anything is fine.” The prince waved him away, and the man stepped backward with another bow before disappearing down the hall.
Before Vhalla could voice an objection, the prince had her seated in a plush chair at one end of a long dining table, which seemed perfectly proportioned in its corner of the massive room. He opted for the seat next to her rather than the chair at the other end. Vhalla had never been served before, and she did not know what to say or do as servants began to fill the table around her. Guilt tickled the back of her throat and she bit her lip, avoiding their eyes.
“I know why you were with my brother today,” Prince Baldair said finally when the help had left.
Vhalla stared at him open-mouthed. Food hung off a fork before her.
A rumbling chuckle resonated through his chest at her expression. “There was a letter.”
“What did the letter say?” Vhalla asked cautiously, easing her food back onto its plate. Aldrik had been so adamant that his father shouldn’t know of her. Wasn’t he keeping her magic a secret out of concern?
Noticing how he held the fork and knife, she let herself be distracted. He held a utensil in one hand, index fingers outstretched over their backs. Comparing it to how she was cutting her meat with fork stabbed vertical, fist grip, she felt like a barbarian from the Crescent Continent.
“The clerics reported that the library staff had been integral to saving his life. I could tell you were a smart one from the moment I met you. It was you, wasn’t it, Vhalla?” It was phrased as a question, but Prince Baldair wore a knowing smile.
Vhalla stopped chewing. She had no idea what to say either.
The prince laughed and saved her from herself. “I knew it. Well, that explains it then; even my ass of a brother would need to give some appreciation to someone who helped saved his life. Can’t say I’m surprised it took him so long to humble himself.”
Vhalla folded her hands in her lap over the napkin, the one she had only placed there after the prince had placed one in his lap. The inside of the meat was pinkish, and she wondered if it was safe to eat. Wondering about the food was better than talking to the prince about his brother. She poked one of the many forks, pushing it up the table. Why did anyone need more than one fork?
A low humming noise came from her left, pulling her back from her continual withdrawal. Baldair had placed his elbow on the table, his chin in his palm. He assessed her thoughtfully. She wanted to say something, but Vhalla was fighting a losing battle against the cerulean eyes before her.
“You’re not like most of them, are you?” Prince Baldair’s voice was softer than she had heard it before, the jest and levity absent.
“Most of them?” she repeated, bracing herself for a parrot comment.
“You’re not the first low-born I have invited to lunch.” He leaned back in his chair, food forgotten. “They come in, swoon over my chambers, prattle about the food endlessly, try everything they can to make eyes at me. By the end of it all, they’re belly up and bare on the bed.”
Vhalla gaped at him. This prince was nothing like the other. She stood, her napkin falling to the floor without a thought.
A firm hand closed around her wrist.
“Don’t worry,” the prince cooed softly. “I know you’re not like that, and I would never force a woman into anything she didn’t want and ask for.”
Her arm relaxed as he held her in place. His command over her was different than his brother’s. Where Aldrik could transfix her with a single look, Prince Baldair captured her with gentle words and soft touches.
“What do you want from me then?” Vhalla asked. If he knew she wasn’t about to fall between his sheets then, there was little point of her being there any longer.
“I have an idea.” He finally relinquished her wrist, but Vhalla did not move.
“What is it?” Judging by the look on his face, she may not want to know.
“Even if my father wants my brother’s injury to go unsaid, and Aldrik would never admit to actually needing help, saving the life of the crown prince should not go unrewarded. And a lunch is not nearly a sufficient reward.” The prince smiled. “So tell me, what does your heart desire, my little library apprentice? I am a prince; most anything is within my power to give.”
She brought her hands before her and gripped the pads of her fingers. What did her heart desire? After Sareem, after Aldrik, things didn’t add up in her heart anymore.
“Nothing,” she replied with a shake of her head, starting for the door again as though she knew the way out.
“You must want something.” The golden-haired man was quickly in step beside her.
She looked up at his expression. Something in his eyes told her that he was only playing dumb.
“Nothing you can give,” Vhalla whispered, thinking of the news that Aldrik was leaving. If she could have one wish it would be for the crown prince to stay in the South. He would be safe here, the rapid beats of her heart whispered. He would be near her. Vhalla pressed her eyes closed.
“The Gala,” the prince said suddenly.
“What?” She waited for an explanation.
“At the end of the Festival of the Sun there is a gala in the Mirror Ballroom,” the prince began.
Vhalla knew of it. She had friends who had worked the Gala over the years. It was a celebration reserved only for nobility.
“Come to the Gala tomorrow.”
“What?” That seemed to be the only word her tongue could form.
“Think about it—the best food, music, entertainment.” He grabbed both of her hands in his. Vhalla followed him as he took a step back into the room. “I’ll see you fitted in a fashionable gown. And the dancing!”
He spun her in a circle beneath his arm. Vhalla tripped and stumbled. With a laugh, the prince caught her in both hands and she found herself pressed close to him for the second time in one day.
“We can work on the dancing.” Prince Baldair grinned down at her.
“I can’t go to the Gala.” She shook her head, trying to find bones in her legs once more.
“Why not?” The prince seemed undeterred.
Vhalla pried herself away from him in frustration. “Because I don’t belong there.” She grabbed her elbows, hugging her torso. “Apprentices don’t belong with nobility.”
“You don’t belong in my brother’s garden either,” the prince retorted with a shrug.
Vhalla wished she could have kept the frown off her lips.
“He’s dangerous and silver-tongued. Don’t give him an opportunity to weave you into some scheme, Vhalla.”
“I would like to return to the servants’ halls now,” she said with a quiet firmness that she didn’t know her voice capable of.
The prince stared at her for a long moment. He implied that Aldrik would weave her into a scheme, but Vhalla only felt skeptical about the man standing before her. She resisted fidgeting—barely—but didn’t like the knowing glint in his eyes.
“I’ll give you a fake name,” he said finally. She couldn’t believe he was still persisting with this insane plot. “No one will know who you are under the powder, gown, and hairdo.”
Vhalla shifted her feet and braced herself to object a second time.
“It will likely be the last night before my brother and I return to the front,” Prince Baldair revealed, shattering her resolve.
The last night before Aldrik would leave was the Gala, tomorrow. She looked toward a far corner of the room, churning this over in her head. That was it, all the time they would have together. No matter how much she wanted to refuse the prince before her, a question remained: What if she had no other chance to see Aldrik?
“You’re sure it won’t be a problem?” she finally asked the waiting prince.
“No one will be wise to who you are.” Baldair nodded. “Unless you think my brother will tell.”
Vhalla looked askance at the prince and swore she heard a soft chuckle.
“And if people found out?” She shifted her weight uneasily from foot to foot.
“No one will.” It wasn’t the answer she had been looking for, but it was the best she was going to get.
“All right. If you wish to bestow this upon me as a secret thanks, my prince, then I shall accept it.” Vhalla gave him a resolute nod.
The prince smiled, and she noticed that where Aldrik’s smiles were small and normally just a turn of the corners, the Heartbreaker Prince’s moved in a beautiful symmetry.
“First then,” the prince extended a hand to her. “We dance.”