Vhalla yawned again despite herself. “I should go, I suppose.” She glanced away. In truth, she had no interest in leaving.

“You have not eaten yet.” The sentiment seemed to be mutual. “I could get us some food.”

“All right.” It was easy to agree.

Aldrik stood and stretched. He grabbed his chainmail from where it hung on a peg by his other armor and pulled it over his head.

Vhalla leaned back, studying the subtle grace to his movements. “Is chainmail really necessary in camp?”

Aldrik paused, and she watched his face become pained. “You can never be too careful,” he murmured. His demeanor changed back before Vhalla could comment on it. “Wait here, I will return shortly.” She nodded and he slipped out of the flap.

Vhalla dropped back onto the pillows strewn about rug. The whole evening, the past day, had been completely surreal, and she didn’t want it to end. He wanted her closer, or so he had said. It put butterflies in her stomach as much as it put alarms in her head.

She groaned, covering her eyes with the back of her forearm. The smart thing to do would be to end this now, whatever this was. It would be best to apologize, refuse, leave, and prevent anything further from happening. Vhalla tilted her head back and watched the flames dance in one of his hanging braziers. That would have been the smart thing to do, but what she actually did was lay there until he returned.

“My, you look comfortable.” Aldrik wore a lazy smirk.

“I’ve not had a real pillow to sleep on in over a month,” she reminded him, sitting.

“So take one.” He shrugged, placing a small sack on the table.

“I cannot take your pillow.” Vhalla accepted a roll he handed her.

“Why not?”

“Oh yes, by the way, the Crown Prince Aldrik gave me a pillow. That’s normal right?” Vhalla rolled her eyes.

“I hear it is all the rage for ladies’ gift-giving in the East. You mean to tell me my sources are incorrect?” Aldrik grinned.

“Oh cute.”

Vhalla grabbed one of the pillows in question and threw it in his face. It hit him square and the prince stared at her. For a moment Vhalla felt her nerves take over.

“You just assaulted the crown prince.” He glared, but she saw the tell-tale glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “Vhalla, I think that violates the terms of your probation.”

“Oh? Tell me what will you do to me?” She did her best to imitate one of his trademark smirks, and she was rewarded by the spark turning to a fire in his eyes.

“I could think of quite a few things to do to you.” His voice was gravely and deep, and Vhalla felt a flush rise to her cheeks.

Not having a good response, she took a bite of her bread and filled the silence with chewing. He chuckled and shook his head. Vhalla finished her roll, and he passed her a bladder of water. Vhalla wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, considering the prince.

“You’re really nothing like they said,” she mused. He raised an eyebrow, prompting her to continue. Vhalla grabbed one of the smaller scraps of meat from the bag and chewed thoughtfully. “Everyone, who ever said anything about you. It was warnings, caution.” Vhalla tilted her head, thinking back. “When I had lunch with your brother, he said he saved me from you, that you’d eat me alive.” She gave a small laugh and a grin, but it quickly fell from her face as she saw him tense.

“I am sure my brother would be more than happy to save anyone from me.” Aldrik balled a hand into a fist.

“I don’t believe them.” Vhalla hoped that much was obvious.

“I know.” His voice was faint, and Aldrik avoided her gaze. “But they are right, you know. I’m not a good person to be around.”

Vhalla frowned, quickly gulping down the last of her food. She shifted closer to him, leaning over to put her face in front of his, searching his features thoughtfully. “No more of that, okay?” she whispered. “I’m not going anywhere, unless you say the word.”

His lips parted slightly as his jaw went slack. “It’s late.”

“It is,” she agreed.

The silence that settled over them was an odd mix of comfortable and painful. Vhalla found her heart trying hard to escape her chest. Hesitantly, she reached out. Her fingertips brushed lightly against his knuckles. He held her gaze, and she closed her fingers around his.

“You should go,” he breathed. There was a tension there that Vhalla had never heard before.

“I should,” she agreed.

Neither of them moved.

“Vhalla,” Aldrik whispered. Her name strained against his lips, and she found some part of her relishing the sound.

“Aldrik?” she replied in kind.

He squeezed her hand fiercely a moment, and she held her breath. But as he relinquished his hold, she felt the insanity that had overcome them in that brief exchange dissipating into the air. “I will ride with you tomorrow,” he promised. “Don’t ride with anyone else. Stay by my side.”

Vhalla nodded. “I will. I promise.”

Aldrik helped her to her feet, and she stood facing him, her fingers still in his. Slowly he raised her knuckles to his face and gently pressed his lips against them. His mouth was soft and the heat of his breath sent a small shiver down her spine.

Vhalla put on her boots and crossed the few steps to the entrance of the tent and stopped, turning. “Aldrik, tomorrow.” Vhalla paused, the words sticking to the inside of her throat, she swallowed hard to free them. “Will all this be a dream?” His brow furrowed a moment. “The next time we meet, will it be as though none of this happened?”