THE REST OF the first trial day was spent detailing her crimes and explaining how the verdict would be reached. The next day would be the start of evidence, people speaking on her behalf, witnesses, and testimony on the Senate’s side. Vhalla wondered if Aldrik would be speaking for her; he was the only true witness she could think of. The third day Vhalla would answer their questions and speak for herself. Then, the last day, she would not be present until they had reached their verdict.
“Vhalla Yarl, it has been determined that you woke as a sorcerer months ago,” Egmun started. Vhalla felt her mouth drop open. “In this time, you have not reported to the Tower of the Sorcerers for training and restriction. Nor have you been Eradicated, allowing your powers to run wild and dangerous.
“In doing so, these powers have progressed so far that they have destroyed public property and likely contributed to the death of multiple citizens.”
A chill ran down her spine. The death of multiple citizens? She’d killed someone? Blood dripped down her neck from her head and oozed from the wound in her shoulder as she struggled to find some memory that would make the senator’s words truth.
“Some also consider your powers to be a form of heresy against the Mother,” Egmun continued.
“There’s a reason why we killed them all!” a Western senator shouted. “They’re twisted, evil. Give it to the Knights of Jadar, they will know what to do!” He was on his feet raging at Vhalla.
She looked at him numbly.
“Silence!” Emperor’s voice echoed across the room. “Head Elect, please continue.”
“This almost pales in comparison to an attempt on the life of the future Emperor Solaris, an attempted murder on our Crown Prince Aldrik.” Egmun gave a small bow in the direction of the prince.
Aldrik’s expression remained unchanged. Pain and fury were burning in the aura around him, but his eyes had a restrained coolness in the brief moments he allowed himself to glance at her. Whatever the truth was, he did not really think she had attempted to harm him.
But what had happened? She was on trial for a whole list of things. These men and women looked at her as though she was a rabid animal. The hatred she was drawing strength from was still strong, but her spine was weak and began to curl as tears fell from her cheeks.
They were talking again, arguing over this or that but all it sounded like noise to Vhalla’s ringing ears. She was tired. These people clearly did not care what happened to her. No, they cared, but what they cared about was seeing her dead.
Vhalla opened her eyes and looked at Aldrik, his head had turned slightly to listen to whatever discussion was now occurring, but he took no part.
Vhalla wanted to blame him. Had it not been for him, none of this would have happened. If it wasn’t for him, her magical powers would’ve never Manifested, she would’ve never been involved with the Tower, and she would still be blissfully unaware of one senator’s name.
But Vhalla couldn’t blame him because she had been happy. For a moment she thought back to the night before, his arms around her waist. The memory was so perfect it almost broke her. Vhalla tried to mentally rejoin the conversation but it seemed to be wrapping up.
“The trial will commence at sunrise tomorrow then.” The Emperor looked to her. “We have already assembled a list of witnesses and people to speak. Is there anyone the prisoner would like to name on her behalf ?” He didn’t even use her name.
“My-my friend, she was alive when I found her. Her name is Roan.” There was a murmur through the senator’s benches at this. “Does-does she live? She’s known me a long time.” In truth, Vhalla wanted to know the answer to her question more than she wanted to demand Roan speak for her. Her friend likely, rightfully, wouldn’t have the warmest words about her presently.
The Emperor looked at his youngest son.
“I’m afraid I don’t know her status,” Baldair confessed.
Maybe she had only imagined hearing Roan’s shallow heartbeat.
“If this Roan is unable to give testimony, is there anyone else?” the Emperor asked.
Vhalla thought, swallowing more tears when she thought of Sareem and the glowing testimony he would’ve given her. Her mind filled with images of his crushed body.
“Master Mohned,” she choked out, struggling to keep the sobs that shook her shoulders at bay. The master would come for her.
“It shall be done.” The Emperor knocked his staff again three times and stood. The princes and senators following suit.
Vhalla didn’t try to stand again; she looked at the ground. Rat and Mole seemed to be content to assist her, wrenching her roughly to her feet in a way that wrung a small cry of agony. Vhalla’s head dipped forward, and her hair covered her face.
“This session is adjourned.”
Royalty left first and the senators began to stream out one by one as Vhalla was dragged back to the cells below.
After removing her shackles, Mole threw her back into her cell with a rough laugh. Vhalla fell to the floor like a rag doll and didn’t move, her energy expended. She heard the door slam behind her. Her body may not survive long enough to see the end of the trial. The darkness that crept behind her eyes had a heaviness to it that she’d never felt before. It wasn’t sleep her body craved, it was death.
Just as she was closing her eyes, Vhalla heard the echoes of boots down the stairs. For one heart-pounding moment she thought Egmun had come again to punish her for crying not guilty. But the walk was even heavier than his. Too heavy to be Aldrik and yet something about it sounded familiar. Vhalla heard the clink of the guards’ armor as they brought their right fist to their breastplate in salute.
“My prince!” Mole said, Rat echoed. Vhalla struggled to turn her head. Prince Baldair stood just beyond her cell door carrying a large box. His still wore a frown, and his brow was scrunched and lined.
“What was that sorry display, men?” he asked, his voice having all its normal melodic tones but none of its mirth. “You’re supposed to be taking care of our prisoner; she was ten times worse in that courtroom than when I brought her.”
“Sh-she tried to kill your brother, th-the prince,” Rat tried.
“She’s been found guilty of nothing yet, and until that time, she is to be kept alive and well.” Prince Baldair turned with a glare in his direction.
“She’s alive,” Mole offered.
The prince sighed. “I will assume you have simply never been taught how to tend field wounds. I’ll show you myself. Open the door,” he demanded, full of regal poise.
“Senator Egmun gave us clear instruction that—” Mole began.
“Egmun is your senator, and I am your prince. Do we need to go over the chain of command?” Baldair snapped.
“No, no my lord, of course not.” Mole fumbled with the keys. The door unlocked and he pushed it open. “Be careful, my prince. She already tried to kill one member of the royal family.”
Prince Baldair ignored him as he entered the dim cell. The only source of light came from a torch on the wall outside, so his face was cast in shadow. He set the box down with small clanking sound not far from her.
“Can you sit?” Prince Baldair’s voice was even softer than his tired smile. Vhalla said nothing and struggled into a seated position with only a few whimpers. “Good,” he encouraged and reached out for her shoulder.
Vhalla flinched as his fingertips grazed her skin.
“Vhalla, I have to dress your wounds properly or they’ll fester.”
She tried to sit still as he reached for her shoulder again, but her whole body wouldn’t stop trembling. All Vhalla saw was a man’s hand coming for her in the same, dark, cramped space as before. The energy pulsating through her muscles snapped and she swatted his hand away.
“Don’t touch me!” she hissed, her body overcome with shivers. His hand paused in the air. “Please...” Vhalla wanted to break down then and beg him for safety but she was reduced to sobs and coughing blood through split lips.
“Vhalla,” Prince Baldair murmured faintly. “What happened to you?” He looked and absorbed her battered form for the first time.
Vhalla’s breathing was short and fast, giving her a lightheaded sensation. Her eyes struggled for focus through the rage that was blinding them but they found their targets. Rat and Mole took a step backward as the force of her glare pressed upon them.
Prince Baldair followed her stare, his body gathering tension like an archer’s bowstring. He took a long inhale of air before exploding upward. The prince crossed the short distance to the door in two quick steps. Mole and Rat had been weary under Vhalla’s glare, but now horror consumed their faces as the prince barreling toward them. Prince Baldair put a hand on each of their breastplates and pushed them into the far wall of the hallway.
“Did you touch her?” he roared, pinning them both in place.
Each guard seemed too shocked to move as the prince’s largely muscled frame held them easily.
“M-my prince, w-we...” Rat stammered.
“You see, the senator...” Mole tried.
Prince Baldair shook his head and gave a small chuckle. “I’m very proud to be a man. Men have duties, honors, which we can stand behind and take pride in.” He raised his eyes to look at them. “Abusing a woman— abusing anyone—violates all of those. You know what I do with men under my command who ignore their duties and honor?” The two men looked on in terror. “I make them no longer men, so they can’t give the rest of us a bad name.”
“But-but she’s not a person. She’s a freak.”
Vhalla finally looked away; Rat shouldn’t still be able to hurt her.
“Go! Out of my sight!” Prince Baldair roared, the rage in his voice echoed down the corridor after the two fleeing guards.
He stood there and watched them go, letting out a sigh. Prince Baldair turned and looked down at her with large, sad, apologetic eyes. His whole face gave into the expression. Vhalla looked at the floor; she didn’t want his pity.
“I’m sorry. They’re Egmun’s men; he recommended them. We should’ve known better.” He shook his head, a curse on his breath. Vhalla looked up at him warily. “Vhalla, I know this will be difficult, but I must clean and bandage your wounds. I’m sorry but I can’t do that if I can’t touch you.”
She looked down again.
“You understand, you will die if we let them fester,” he added.
“I know,” Vhalla drew a slow breath and reformed her resolve. Egmun had wanted her to give up and give in. “Go ahead.”
Prince Baldair absorbed the woman before him, paying subconscious respect to the creature clawing her way from the dark hole she kept being forced into. With a nod he returned to his box, popping open a latch and fishing through clerical supplies. When his hands made contact with her skin Vhalla didn’t even flinch. This was Prince Baldair, she told herself, and he would not hurt her.
“I was the one who found you,” the prince didn’t look at her as he spoke. “When the first whirlwind landed, I went running. It doesn’t just happen like that. If something weird, horrible, and magical is happening, I normally find my brother close by.”
“A whirlwind?” Vhalla asked softly.
The prince nodded. “The wind was insane. It ripped those Northerners into tiny bits.”
Vhalla stared at him blankly. “Wait, that’s why...” She was putting the pieces together.
“You really don’t remember?” he asked, stunned.
“I don’t remember anything,” she told him honestly.
“Vhalla, you summoned a wind storm. It was almost as big as the entire square nearby,” the prince explained.
“Did I really hurt Aldrik?” She stared in horror.
Prince Baldair raised his eyebrows. Vhalla’s hands went to her mouth and she realized her mistake.
“He lets you call him by name?” The prince chuckled softly. Before she could attempt to answer he continued, “Aldrik was a little battered by this or that in the wind, I think more than he confessed to me after. But he doesn’t blame you. The wind did not hurt him like it did the Northerners.” Vhalla let out a breath. “I could only make it to you when the gale stopped.” The prince ran a hand through his hair.
“My brother was clinging to you with all his might. As though you were... I don’t know what...” Prince Baldair shifted, as if the memory made him uncomfortable. Vhalla stared him in shock, and he chuckled uneasily. “Jaw open, eyes wide,” Baldair summarized at the expression she was giving him. “That must’ve been my face when I saw him holding you like that.”
Vhalla looked down at her bruised hands and wondered if Aldrik would ever want to touch her again. “Why are you here?” she asked. The prince hadn’t come only to tell her all this. Another cleric could just as easily have tended to her.
“Because I owed my brother, and he called in a favor,” Baldair answered honestly. A frown crossed her face; she was a burden to them. The prince shook his head, as if reading her mind. “Because I was worried about the beautiful, charming woman I had danced with.”
“Why didn’t he come?” She tried to keep the pain from sneaking into her voice.
“There’s a war council occurring right now to discuss the safety of the city. He had to be there.” Vhalla nodded mutely. The prince wrapped some clean gauze around the fresh wound at the back of her head. “Why didn’t you fight them off with your magic?”
“I tried...” She choked on nothing in her throat, suddenly overwhelmed. She felt more deserted by her sorcery than by anyone else failing her. “But my magic... it isn’t... I don’t know why it didn’t work.”
“That’s okay, Vhalla. You’ll be safe now.” He mumbled, knowing that words were not about to fix it. Prince Baldair shifted her burlap to inspect her shoulder. “This one is bad. It’s going to hurt,” the prince said apologetically.
Vhalla laughed and he looked at her queerly. “What doesn’t hurt?” she asked bitterly.
His brow furrowed again. “Lie down,” he instructed.
Vhalla obliged. She stared at the ceiling as the prince found a tall bottle of clear liquid.
“Do you want something to bite on?”
Vhalla shook her head.
He uncorked the bottle and poured its contents through the wound. She hissed and arched her back. Vhalla gripped at her clothes, forcing herself to stay still with slow deep breaths.
“You’re a lot tougher than you look.” The prince put the bottle aside.
“Am I?” she asked, looking back at the ceiling as he changed to a jar of creamy salve. “I don’t feel tough.”
The prince shrugged and dipped his fingers into the salve, applying it liberally to the wound. She winced at the pressure.
“Sorry,” he murmured.
Vhalla shook her head. “You and Aldrik.” She noted her use of Aldrik’s name made him glance at her weirdly. “Do you get along?” Talking kept her mind away from the pain.
“We—” the prince sighed, “—we have a strange relationship.”
Vhalla glanced at him; she could gather that much on her own.
Before she could follow up, he turned the conversation on her. “And you? You and Aldrik clearly get along. What’s your relationship exactly?”
Vhalla stiffened and not from his fingers probing her wound. She stared at nothing. The funny part was Vhalla didn’t know how to classify her relationship with the crown prince.
“I don’t know,” she said truthfully.
He glanced at her as he threaded a needle before leaning over her. Golden hair fell in front of the prince’s face, and his eyes had none of the laughter she’d seen in them before. Vhalla wasn’t sure if she’d ever met this Prince Baldair. He looked exhausted.
“That’s it? You don’t know?” he mumbled, stitching up her wound.
“That’s it.” She kept from shrugging. “How often do you know what your brother is thinking?” The corner of Vhalla’s mouth tugged upward by a fraction, and the prince actually chuckled.
“I just knew you were going to be amusing.” He shook his head and motioned for her to sit so he could stich up the back.
“How did you learn how to do this?” she asked, finding conversation easier than expected, given the circumstances. It was something about Prince Baldair, the same easiness she felt in his room.
“My brother played with spell-books, I played with swords. One gives you paper cuts, the other removes your fingers. I saw so many clerics that I learned the basics.” Baldair held out her arm and wrapped the wound closed. “Careful. Don’t rip your stitches.”
“Tell that to my guards,” she bit out.
The prince didn’t even try to hide a grimace. He pulled out a rag and another large leather bladder from the bottom of the box. Wetting the cloth, he handed it to her.
“Here, it’s only water.” He took a small sip, as if to encourage her. Vhalla didn’t think he’d spend so much time patching her up if he was about to poison her. She took the rag and wiped her face, pausing a moment to look at the mix of black and red that smeared it.
“I must look like death itself,” she mused at the soiled fabric.
“Worse than death.” He did not even try to flatter her. “After seeing you in the courtroom, my brother broke a mirror and a vase, and set a chair on fire on his way to the council rooms. I couldn’t get a cleric’s box fast enough.”
Vhalla laughed faintly and smiled for the first time in what felt like weeks. He pulled out a different cream and ran a thumb down her cheek. She stiffened slightly but she didn’t find his touch unsettling anymore, at least in this limited capacity.
“There we go. You’re prettier when you smile.” The prince reflected her expression on his face but the moment was short-lived. She had no reason to be happy.
“They’re going to kill me, aren’t they?” Vhalla asked calmly.
His smile faded. “They’re going to try,” he replied with a nod.
She respected him more for not lying to her. “Why?”
“I don’t know.” Baldair shook his head. “Egmun was calling for it before Aldrik had even carried you back to the palace.”
Vhalla was distracted a moment, trying to imagine Aldrik carrying her anywhere. Prince Baldair cleaned up his box, leaving her the bladder of water, a group of clean rags, the jar of cream he’d used on her face, and a small vial of green looking syrup. She returned her attention to him as he stood.
“I figure, you have more you’d like to scrub off without me here. The salve you can use on any other cuts.” The prince motioned toward the items.
Vhalla glanced at the gash running up her thigh that disappeared under the sack dress and nodded. “Thank you,” she said honestly.
“The green stuff, Deepsleep, it’ll ease the pain and help you sleep.”
Vhalla looked at it uncertainly; she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be in a drug-induced slumber around Rat and Mole. “Please, don’t go,” she begged faintly.
“I’m not really supposed to be here.” He sighed and picked up the box.
“Then lock me in and take the key with you. Give it back to Mole tomorrow,” she pleaded with him. “Lock them away from me. If I have to be here all night with them, I’ll...” A shiver ran through her.
“Mole?” The prince asked. Vhalla put a finger on her cheek where Mole had his unfortunate facial feature. “Ah.” Prince Baldair considered her request for a moment and then locked the door with the key Mole had left in the lock earlier. He showed it to her before slipping it into his coat pocket. She nodded.
“My prince,” she said quickly. He looked at her, “Tell Aldrik...”
He glanced down the hall. Tell Aldrik, what? She hadn’t thought that far ahead. That she’d never forget their dance, for however long the rest of her short life was? That she enjoyed his company more than she ever expected? That she had yet to still sort through all the complex feelings surrounding him? In the end, she simply had to hope he knew.
“Please tell him, thank you, and I’m sorry.” The prince gave her a strange look and nodded. “And thank you too, Prince Baldair, for whatever reason you did this.”
“Be careful,” the golden prince cautioned. “You seem sweet, Vhalla. Clearly you have something magical about you, and while I don’t really understand it all, I do understand that Aldrik has fire in his veins.”
“He is a Firebearer,” she explained dumbly.
Prince Baldair chuckled softly. “I know what he’s called.” The prince shook his head, glancing away. “I don’t want to see you getting wrapped up in my brother’s dark world and hurt again. That’s all.”
He wasn’t interested in giving her a chance to formulate a response. The prince left with the key, and Vhalla heard his footsteps disappear down the hall. A cold shiver ran through her.
Alone, she was left with her thoughts and the demons that lived there. The memory of Sareem came back to her, and Vhalla made a futile attempt to catch her sobs with a palm over her mouth. It was pointless, and she was soon doubled over, her sobs echoing through the halls. Every time she blinked, she saw his face, his twisted and broken face staring at her with its one good eye.
Knowing the prince walked away with the key, she grabbed for the bottle of green liquid and took a large gulp. Before Mole and Rat returned, she used a little more water and the rags to finish a near pointless cleaning of herself, choking down tears. Vhalla applied the cream to all the surface wounds she could find and then laid down.
She was exhausted and the potion set in quickly. Her whimpers soon faded into silence and Vhalla passed out on the stone floor with little problem.