“How did you ...?” Vhalla wondered if the woman was psychic.

“You are?” Fritz asked, dumbstruck. Vhalla could only blush. “By the Mother, this is the most insane thing I’ve ever heard of ! Prince Aldrik? The Fire Lord? The black prince? He whose temper is short and his wrath is long?”

“And your point is?” Vhalla peered at him.

“He’s acting like a normal man!” Fritz laughed.

Even Larel found a conspiratorial smile. Vhalla hid her face, embarrassed.

Vhalla avoided filling them in on many more details. She’d already inadvertently revealed more than she intended, and she wanted some things kept private. They spared her further inquiry and kept Vhalla company as she filled her pack with a few things for the night.

Hours later, and Vhalla was slipping back into a side alley off a cart path. She glanced about—not a soul was nearby. Vhalla’s heart beat nervously as she prayed that she arrived early enough and hadn’t missed him.

The passage entry swung open and Aldrik wore an excited grin. Vhalla slipped inside and he closed the door, welding it shut. Vhalla placed her hands on his hips and leaned up. He obliged, tilting his head down. Kissing him enflamed a hunger that had been growing throughout the day. Now that she had him, all she wanted was him. Her need was insatiable.

The crown prince sighed softly into her mouth, a deep noise rumbling the back of his throat that she hungrily consumed. Vhalla moved her hands to his neck and he eagerly scooped her up. Vhalla tried to use the passion-heat between them to fuse their bodies from hips to chest. Aldrik clutched her tighter, his fingertips pressing against her woolen tunic as if to bore holes in pursuit of her skin. Vhalla’s lips parted slightly, but he pulled away quickly with a shake of his head.

“We can’t.” His voice was deliciously thick, making her want to be all the closer to him. “Not right now. I have someone I want you to meet.”

Vhalla’s curiosity hid the resentment for having to stop what they had started. Aldrik intertwined his fingers with hers as they walked up the stairs.

“I want you to know,” he said softly, “I trust him completely, so don’t fret. I would’ve told you earlier, but his presence was a surprise for me also.” He didn’t give her a chance to ask who he was talking about as Aldrik pushed open the portal to his room.

Vhalla stepped in first, tentatively. She set her bag next to the hidden door as Aldrik settled it back into place. Vhalla scanned the room, her gaze falling on a man sitting on the couch in its center. There were papers and ledgers spread out on the table, and Vhalla could instantly tell the chaise Aldrik had occupied by the gold-tipped quill and ink that sat out without an owner.

The man stood, and Vhalla brought her hands together, pulling at her fingers. He was as tall as, or maybe even a little taller than, Aldrik. His black hair was cut very short and it seemed to spike up slightly in odd directions. He had a closely trimmed dark beard that ran along his jawline and up his chin to his lower lip. None of this was what startled her though. His eyes were like looking into a mirror image of a very familiar set that she was particularly fond of.

Aldrik walked behind her, placing a palm on the small of her back to help her find her feet again. The man studied her with a guarded gaze as she rounded the bar and crossed the room over to the sitting area. Aldrik held out a hand in the man’s direction.

“Vhalla, meet Ophain Ci’Dan, my mother’s brother and Lord of the West.”

She glanced between the men; Aldrik had a relaxed smile, the other man continued to assess her with interest.

“Vhalla Yarl,” the lord said slowly, his voice was among the deepest she’d ever heard. “I have been looking forward to meeting you.”

VHALLA SOUGHT REAFFIRMATION, and Aldrik gave her a small nod. The Western man extended an open hand to her, and Vhalla tried to smile politely as she took it. The lord’s skin was just as warm as her prince’s, and she wondered if he was a glimpse into Aldrik’s future. He was beginning to grey by his ears, but it gave him a handsome and stately appearance. His shoulders were broader and seemed to carry more muscle.

“My lord, it is an honor to meet you.” Vhalla told herself not to be nervous.

The man nodded and sat upon the couch across from her in an open stance, his arms splayed across the back. Aldrik returned to the chaise he had previously occupied. Vhalla sat on the remaining chaise and folded her hands in her lap, attempting to sit nicely and not fidget.

“I cannot recall any other time when one of the first words out of my nephew’s mouth has been a lady’s name. Combined with hearing that same name on the Emperor’s and the other prince’s lips, well, needless to say, I had no choice but to meet this woman.”

Vhalla wasn’t sure what to feel, knowing she was the subject of so much chatter.

“Then again, had none of this been true, I would have insisted upon meeting you anyways.” Lord Ophain placed his elbows on his knees, folding his hands between them and leaning forward. “After all, you are the first Windwalker in the West in over a hundred years who was not brought in wearing chains.”

“Well, I don’t know if I am free from chains.” Vhalla could not stop the dry remark from escaping.

“Why so?” he asked. Even Aldrik was curious.

Vhalla focused on the prince as she spoke, praying he did not twist her words. “I am the property of the crown. My chains are invisible, but just as heavy.”