“But how long will it last?” Vhalla hated herself for objecting to the words she had been so longing to hear. “Until you must find something else to barter or sacrifice just for my sake?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Aldrik shook his head. “I will fight to keep you until the end of my days.”

“You’re a fool,” Baldair declared, stealing the words right out of Vhalla’s mouth. He leaned back in his chair, considering his brother. But his words were betrayed by the appreciative gleam in his eyes as he switched his attention between the two lovers. Vhalla was still learning the nuances of the younger prince, but it was easy to guess that he was impressed.

Aldrik chuckled under his breath. “If I am, then the blame falls entirely with my lady here.”

A gentle warmth gave color to Vhalla’s cheeks.

“Well, you won’t be launching any suicidal campaigns if you can’t even get out of bed.” Baldair stood. “I’ll go fetch the clerics.”

“Go, but wait to fetch the clerics.” Aldrik ran his hand up Vhalla’s arm, his attentions returned to her. “Dawn is only an hour away.”

“Then get them in an hour,” Aldrik said as though that should have been obvious.

“You need medical attention,” Baldair insisted. “Your body is mostly healed. You should just need some strengthening potions for you to be close to normal.”

“I don’t need my strength just yet. I’m not leaving this bed,” the crown prince observed. “What I have here now will be far more effective than anything the clerics can bottle.”

Baldair gave a resigned huff of amusement and shook his head. “Gone by dawn,” the younger prince cautioned before leaving them alone.

Vhalla turned back to Aldrik as the door closed, but the man had other intentions as the hand that had been drifting up her arm tugged lightly on her shoulder. The moment the back of her neck was in his reach, his fingers were curled around it, and Vhalla met his lips.

His mouth had the faint traces of herbs, what Vhalla suspected to be remnants of medicine or sustaining potions that had been forced down his throat. The hair on his face tickled her strangely. But nothing could have made that kiss anything less than perfection.

“I love you,” he uttered like a prayer.

“And I you,” she affirmed.

“Don’t give up on me.” Aldrik pressed his eyes closed tightly. “I am not worthy of all you have done for me ... but, you, this is the first thing to make me feel human in almost a decade, to make me want to strive for something more. You are the first person to make me truly happy, to make me want and hope again.”

“I have never given up on you,” Vhalla pointed out gently.

“You are the only one.”

“Larel didn’t either,” she mused.

“No, Larel never did ...” Aldrik tugged on her gently and Vhalla understood his demand. She curled at his side, her head tucked between his chin and his shoulder to barely fit on the small bed. “I can’t believe you rode through the North. Gods, woman, have you no fear?”

“I was terrified,” Vhalla confessed softly. “I was just more terrified of living without you.”

Aldrik laughed, a deep throaty sound. He ran his fingertips over her arm and shoulder. “A terror I know well.”

Vhalla pressed her eyes closed. Her mortality stared down at her from the other side of an abyss. But his arm around her firmly kept her in place, kept her from tumbling down that dark chasm.

She relinquished doubt and embraced hope. Her hand snaked around his waist, and Vhalla listened to his heartbeat while feeling the slow rise and fall of his chest, perfectly in time with hers. They would fight together now.

“Stay with me today.” Aldrik pressed his lips against her hair. “I don’t know if your father ...”

“After the clerics have done their dance, I’ll command that you be brought to me. My father won’t dare reveal our family rift to the world by objecting, not after I’ve made a public command. He won’t undermine me before the subjects he intends I rule,” Aldrik stated with confidence.

“For how long?” she asked.

“All day today, tomorrow.” There were the makings of a deeper current powering his words. There was a plan formulating in his puppet-master mind. “I want the men, women, majors, and nobles alike to continue to see you are under my protection. I want them to see me value your brilliant thoughts. And,” Aldrik paused, as if bracing himself, “I want them to see my compassion for you. Most of all, my father will see that he will not take you from me with mere threats.”

“This is an awful idea.” Vhalla shook her head, pressing closer.

“It is brilliant,” he insisted. “Will you?”

Vhalla’s hand drifted up over the blankets to his exposed collarbone, running her fingers across the firm line in his skin. “I will,” she breathed in reply.

His arm tightened around her, and he hooked a finger under her chin. Aldrik tugged her mouth toward his once more, and Vhalla gripped his shoulder tightly. The world blissfully faded away as his lips parted.

Vhalla could have laughed, she could have cried, as each kiss reaffirmed their madness. A bundle of nerves began to tangle in her stomach. Each kiss undid a knot, each breath added two. Today, they would draw a line in the sand. On one side, they would stand, on the other, the Emperor and her death.