Vhalla covered her face with her palms. It was just a dream, she repeated over and over again. But she could still feel the blade cutting into the pale skin. She could see the palace handmaiden rushing in, horrified and desperate.

Vhalla was up and out of the tent.

It was still a good hour before dawn and the world was yet dark. Vhalla ran through the silent camp, barefoot and in sweat-damp clothes. Her heart raced, and her mind didn’t allow her to calm, not until she knew he was all right. She didn’t care if Aldrik was still cross with her. She had to see him.

Knocking on the crown prince’s tent pole before dawn had to be foolish, but that didn’t stop her. Vhalla brought her hands together, fidgeting in the eternity that seemed to follow as she waited. “My prince?” Her voice was strained with tension. Vhalla fought down a whimper. “Aldrik?”

To her relief, she heard a faint stirring come from inside the tent. The canvas shifted as ties on the inside were undone. Aldrik opened the flap in annoyance. With his other hand he pulled on the hem of a shirt, situating it over his chest.

“Vhalla?” He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as if he wasn’t seeing properly, his temper quickly vanishing.

She felt something in her break with relief and she covered her mouth with her hands to muffle a small cry. Aldrik took one look at her panic-stricken face and, with a quick glance to ensure there were no observers, he grabbed her hand and pulled her into the tent.

The moment he released the heavy canvas flap, they were plunged into near-darkness. She blinked in the dim light. His bed was a mess of blankets; papers and empty bottles cluttered his table.

Aldrik quickly rounded her and placed his palms on her shoulders. He inspected her from toe to head. “What is it?” His voice was tense. “Are you hurt?” Aldrik moved a hand to her forehead and ran it down her face to tilt Vhalla’s chin up to look at him.

The feeling of relief was still too strong for her to feel embarrassed. “I’m okay,” she finally managed weakly. Vhalla reached up and grabbed both his wrists. She let out a noise between a laugh and a sigh when she saw the sleeves of his shirt showed no signs of blood. “I’m okay.” Vhalla breathed. “I thought, you ...”

“I what?” he asked. Aldrik was clearly confused, but the prince made no motion away from her.

“It doesn’t matter.” She laughed uneasily. “It was a dream. Something bad ... I thought you were hurt. But it was just a dream.”

Aldrik paused before moving his hands to cup her face. He ran his thumbs over her tearstained cheeks, and she relished his eyes on her for the first time in what felt like forever. “I’m fine,” he whispered. “See, I am fine.”

His tenderness set free a small hiccup in her throat, and she squeezed his forearms. “I was afraid,” she admitted. His eyes widened. “I thought ...” She choked on her words.

“What? Thought what?”

Vhalla searched his questioning gaze. “Nothing,” she said with a shake of her head. “It doesn’t matter; you’re well.”

“Vhalla,” he insisted, his hands on her face preventing her from looking away.

“I was afraid I’d lost you.” The words were an arrow into the heart of the silence that had been flourishing between them. And words, like arrows, once let go, could not be taken back. Vhalla had confessed as much to him as she did to herself. The truth of her admission slowly dawned on them both. She felt her jaw quiver. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

She released his arms and stepped away to leave. Vhalla’s ears burned with embarrassment, and she dipped her head. What had overcome her? Why had she come? He’d made it clear for days that she’d done something to offend him. That he didn’t want her presence.

Aldrik closed the gap between them. Bending over slightly, he curled an arm around her upper waist and wrapped the other around her shoulders. Vhalla gasped and got a breath of his shirt as her face pressed against his chest.

He held her there and took a few deep breaths. Vhalla felt his chest move under her cheek, and she heard his heartbeat run fast. Uncertainly, she raised her hands and grabbed the back of Aldrik’s shirt. He didn’t pull away.

“I told you, you foolish woman,” he whispered, his breath washing away the scalding embarrassment. “You have to tell me if you want to lose me.”

Vhalla tightened her arms around him and closed her eyes. His contact calmed her, and she felt her heartbeat slow with his. Aldrik’s hand shifted, and she felt his fingers lose themselves in her tangled morning hair.

“I thought you were hurt.” He laughed dryly. “I’d just been ...” Aldrik seemed at a loss for words. “I had my own dream, I suppose.”

Vhalla inhaled deeply. He smelled like smoke, sweat, metal, leather, and something distinctly Aldrik. She felt him shake his head, and they continued to stand in silence. He was warm through the thin fabric of his shirt, and she pressed herself closer.

She wasn’t sure how long they stood there, but eventually she felt his arms loosen around her. Vhalla wanted to protest, but her grip relaxed. Aldrik straightened, but an arm remained around her waist. His other hand curled around the back of her neck.

“Tonight, come to me.”

Vhalla felt the pads of his fingers indenting the nape of her neck. “Tonight?” she squeaked, her throat suddenly dry.