Air Awakens

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?”