Water's Wrath

“Everything?”

“Is that all?” His eyes were alight.

Vhalla gave into that joy for only a moment. Baldair wheezed in his sleep, reminding her where they were, what was happening. Her expression fell as she considered the ailing prince.

“Aldrik, promise me one thing.”

“Anything.”

“If anything ever happens to me . . .” She remembered Baldair’s words. How if she left Aldrik, and Baldair didn’t pull through, their future Emperor would be truly alone.

His hands suddenly gripped her shoulders, and the prince was half out of the chair, staring at her with a shocking intensity. “Nothing will happen to you.” Aldrik looked right through her, and Vhalla had no idea what he saw, but it terrified him. “I will not let it happen.”

“Aldrik . . .” Her brow furrowed in confusion, trying to figure out the source of the man’s panic.

He took a deep breath and seemed to remember himself once more. “I-I’m sorry.” Aldrik let her go quickly and rubbed his eyes.

“When was the last time you slept?” Vhalla asked him, standing.

“I catch some sleep when the clerics are in with him.”

Vhalla translated the Aldrik-speak to mean that it had been a long time. “Rest,” she demanded. “I’ll sit with Baldair ‘til dawn.”

She pushed Aldrik lightly toward the other room. Thankfully, he did not give much of a struggle, and he allowed her to herd him toward the couch he used as his makeshift bed during his brother’s illness. Aldrik laid down, pulling off his cloth mask, and dropping it onto the floor. Hooking a finger, she lowered her mask to drop around her neck since she would need it again in a moment. Vhalla situated the blanket over him.

“My prince,” she dropped to a knee at the side of the couch. Aldrik turned to look at her. Neither seemed to mind her method of addressing him. Vhalla resisted the urge to touch his face. She ignored the desire to run her fingers through his hair. “I don’t wish we could start over. Everything that happened, we made mistakes, but-but we loved, and I don’t regret that.”

His hand reached up and took hers at the edge of the blanket. His fingers intertwined with hers, and Vhalla’s heart stuck in her throat as she watched them lace together. “Fight at my side again?”

Vhalla nodded, not finding her voice. She didn’t know in what capacity he meant, but she could guess.

“I will be better. I will never push you away again,” he whispered.

“I’ll never let you,” Vhalla laughed softly.

“I vow to honor my promise to you, Vhalla.”

Her free hand rose to her watch, a look that affirmed she understood the promise he meant—his promise of a future together. “And I will mine.” Their promises still meant something.

Vhalla sat with him until his breathing slowed and his body relaxed. Her fingers remained entwined with his, and she watched him sleep. Maybe they would never again be the lovers they were—maybe they’d become something better. They’d both grown apart, and maybe they’d grown into the people they should’ve been all along.

Love was a simple emotion, Vhalla had learned. Once one experienced it, a person understood it, and there was no doubt when one felt it. If there was no doubt, then nothing would ever serve as a substitute.

Vhalla knew she understood love. Love was throwing herself into a sandstorm. Love was braving her darkest fears and battling her demons. Love was a blind dash through a Northern jungle. Love was hopeful words shared across a pillow in the darkness. Love was bravery and—perhaps most importantly—forgiveness.



VHALLA AWOKE BRIEFLY as her body was pulled against Aldrik’s chest. She felt his arm slide around her shoulders, the other slip under her knees. The sensation of weightlessness fluttered across her stomach as he hoisted her easily into the air.

With her head tucked in the crook of his neck, he carried her from where she had fallen asleep at her post in Baldair’s room into the main sitting area. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but she had underestimated her continuing exhaustion from extensive crystal work. At least she was a light sleeper and could have easily woken to action if Baldair had a fit or needed something.

Aldrik laid her down gently. Vhalla smelled him against the pillow and nuzzled her face into it. A blanket, still warm from his body, was gingerly lifted over her form and tucked around her. Her hand reached upward and found his, in a complete reversal of how they had been earlier.

He stopped all movement and intertwined his fingers with hers once more. Vhalla wasn’t certain exactly what every touch meant yet, but she knew how they made her feel. She knew all the wrongs in the world that seemed to be bearable by knowing he was near her once more. The unsettled sickness, one that had plagued her stomach so long that it had begun to feel natural, finally quieted.

Slipping his long fingers into her hair, Aldrik stroked her head gently. Vhalla nuzzled deeper into the warmth and comfort that surrounded her. Eventually his motion ceased, and she felt his hands pull away.

“Don’t stop,” she murmured in sleep.

“If it pleases,” his voice was deep and throaty when he whispered, and Vhalla smiled tiredly at the sound as much as the words. His fingers returned to her hair, and she sighed contently, remembering every time on the march she had fallen asleep to the feeling after practicing her Projection.