Earth's End

“No,” Vhalla confirmed with a shake of her head.

“The Epic?” Raylynn raised her eyebrows. “You actually read through it?”

“Of course.” Vhalla couldn’t fathom who wouldn’t finish a book once they’d started.

“Not everyone is as illiterate as you,” Craig teased the other member of the Golden Guard, earning a glare from the blonde woman.

“Quite a few talents you have. What others are there, I wonder?” Jax waggled his eyebrows lecherously at Vhalla. “Mother, Jax,” Elecia groaned. “Can you grow up just a little?” “You wouldn’t love me if I did.” Jax made a kissing face toward Elecia, who scrunched her nose in disgust.

“I find it beautifully tragic,” Vhalla confessed, shifting the conversation back to books.

“I remember when I was forced to read that for ‘culture building’.” Baldair laughed and shook his head. “If I recall, you enjoy the story, too,” he said to his brother.

“I do,” Aldrik affirmed.

Vhalla gazed at her prince in honest surprise. She realized that she had never asked about his taste in literature. It made her want to laugh that the most obvious thing they had in common had never been discussed.

“I think ‘beautifully tragic’ is a perfect way to describe it, also.” Aldrik’s lips curled into a smile at her, and Vhalla fought to hide her blush when she caught the looks of the table.

“How quickly can we expect the attack to launch?” One of the other majors turned the conversation away from personal matters.

“Given my previous indisposition, we have yet to explore the palace. Vhalla will need to learn it confidently enough to lead us through as needed,” Aldrik responded.

“Is that days? Weeks? Months?” Major Zerian asked.

Vhalla was startled to find he addressed her directly over the crown prince. “I should hope it would not be months,” she answered. She didn’t have time for it to take months. “I will not be so bold as to promise days, however.”

“So then we should plan for about a month until the attack.” Zerian nodded as he mentally began to plan.

“For that reason,” Aldrik pulled himself to his feet, “I think our time will be better spent elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere?” the Emperor questioned.

“I have all the faith in the world that the majors can adjust the rations appropriately and plan for the proper distribution of new blades,” Aldrik flattered the group. “However, we do have a castle to take, and there is only one among us who can offer it neatly.” His eyes fell back on her.

“Of course, my prince.” She gave him the smallest of smiles as she stood as well. Vhalla savored the fact that she had changed a term of formality to a form of endearment. He was, indeed, her prince.

“We will report our findings at the next meeting,” Aldrik announced in a tone that suggested it was not up for discussion. He did not even glance back at the Emperor before turning, placing his palm at the small of her back—for everyone to see—and leading Vhalla away.



ALDRIK DID NOT turn back, he did not look back, nor did he say a single word all the way to his room. Vhalla studied his profile nervously. His strides appeared more confident after Elecia’s ministrations, but his face was still gaunter than she would’ve liked. She wondered if he’d eaten enough for lunch. She wondered if her performance had only created a new stress for him. She continued to find herself fretting over everything when it came to his wellbeing.

Opening the door to his room, Aldrik strode within, leaving Vhalla to latch it behind her. Her hand had barely left the handle when his palm pressed against the door to the right of her head. Aldrik leaned down, his fingertips at her chin.

“You. Are. Astounding,” he whispered, punctuating each word. They were slow across his tongue and flowed hotly from her ears to the pit of her stomach. The prince leaned forward, tilting his head to the side. His jaw brushed against her cheek as he spoke. “Who would have thought the slip of a girl I found tucked away in the library had such a woman within her?”

Vhalla took a breath, leaning against the door for support. His voice was a silken spell that held her in perfect thrall. Vhalla couldn’t be sure she was even breathing. Aldrik’s palm rested on her hip.

“How did it feel, to be called a lady before them?” His hand savored her side before curving around her waist.

“I-I know it’s nothing ...” Vhalla was surprised she could even make something that resembled a sentence.

He had a heavy-lidded look about him, as if he was drunk on her proximity alone. “It is not nothing, my Vhalla.” Aldrik shook his head. “I want you to become engrained in high society. We have no court or functions here for me to present you to the world. But all of those men and women will return home to the Imperial Court. They will take with them stories of you. I want to make them sing your praises.”

“Why?” she whispered.

“My father needs them. They feed his army, they supply the men and women he uses as soldiers, they own the industry of our land, and they are the figureheads that the Empire thrives upon.” Aldrik rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closing as his voice became somber. “The more people who look to you, who admire you, the more who will mourn you should something befall you. It would mean an ‘accident’ would raise too many questions.”