Water's Wrath

Putting in the stopper, she stripped off her soiled clothing and tossed it into a corner of the marble-tiled room with a cry. The night air was icy on her bare skin as Vhalla plunged herself into the water, still shivering.

Her mother had been thinner, she had been weaker. They didn’t have the food or the medicine available to Baldair. He would be all right.

Not once, in all her racing thoughts, did she give note to the fact that she was naked in the crown prince’s chambers. All her contemplations circled around how hot Baldair’s forehead had felt, how much blood had come up. Vhalla began to scrub, going over her skin until it was raw, as if she could wash away the memories.

Aldrik still wasn’t back by the time her bathwater began to cool, and Vhalla emerged numb to the dull gray world. She pulled a drying cloth over her shoulders before she raided his dressing chambers. Many women would’ve been satisfied with just one of his oversized shirts as a dress, but Vhalla never felt comfortable without wearing some kind of trouser or legging.

Awkwardly dressed, she wandered listlessly to his bedroom. His bed was large enough for three people, and it was extraordinarily comfortable. In that moment, it could’ve been made of rocks and felt the same. Vhalla bundled herself beneath the blankets, shivering against the cold until she fell into a restless sleep.

Long fingers buried themselves in her hair, the bed shifting to accommodate a weight at her side. The scent of the blankets, the heat of the man next to her, the familiar tingle under his fingertips, it reminded her where she was and who was gently pulling her from sleep.

“Aldrik.” Vhalla sat, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms. The sound of coughing filled her ears and the smell of smoke, sweat, leather, and Aldrik on the sheets was replaced with the tangy metallic aroma of blood that still lingered in her nose. “How is Baldair?”

“The clerics say my annoying little brother is presently stable.”

There wasn’t any bite to Aldrik’s words. “They’ll be staying with him around the clock now. About time.”

Vhalla saw Aldrik’s mannerisms for what they were: a retreat. He was withdrawing into the temperamental indifferent front he’d always used to keep out the world, to hide his emotions. A deep sorrow settled into her chest for her fearful prince.

“I swear, Baldair just wants to make a show of this.” Aldrik shook his head. “Always, always the showman, that Baldair. He wants all the attention, as if he hasn’t had it. He just—he loves when—he loves when people are fawning over him.”

Aldrik’s words became weaker as he rambled on. Vhalla looked on in torment. It was a pain she knew so well, and yet she couldn’t do anything to lessen it. Saying nothing, she took both of Aldrik’s hands in hers.

“The clerics say he can still make it,” Aldrik finally added, after a short silence. “Elecia should be here soon, too.”

“Elecia?” Vhalla asked, surprised. Last she’d heard, Aldrik’s cousin wasn’t coming until spring.

“I called for her when Baldair fell ill. If she could heal me after the North, she’ll make quick work of Baldair and then complain to me for years for bringing her to the South during the winter. Between her and the clerics, he has to make it.” Aldrik allowed himself a tired, fragile smile.

“They don’t want me going in anymore. They say it’s too much of a risk now that it has progressed this far.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Well, it’s not as if I wanted to be there in the first place,” he said begrudgingly. “Why would I want to spend more time with my loud, annoying little brother? I was only there because my father insists on having morons in his staff. No one else was watching him, so I had to, right? They should have been there from the start. Complete, utter incompetence . . .”

Vhalla squeezed his hands lightly, and let him hide behind the security of his jabs. She knew just as well as he did the real reason why he had been in his brother’s room. She knew from the moment she had seen a pillow and blanket on Baldair’s couch.

“Speaking of incompetent nitwits, I should bring you back to the fools who run my Tower.” He stood and swayed from exhaustion.

“Will you be all right without me?” Vhalla braved the question. Leaving was the appropriate thing to do, but worry changed the rules.

He sighed, running a hand over his hair, trying to tame the stray pieces that escaped over the events of the evening into place. “I’m always all right.”

“No.” She stood as well to bring a palm to his cheek. His mask broke under her touch. “Don’t hide from me, my prince.”

“Vhalla, please,” he pleaded, his voice thin and strained. “Come back tomorrow?” He closed his eyes and tilted his head toward her hand. “I need you.”

“All you ever need to do is ask,” she whispered in thankful awe that he relented so quickly to accept whatever comfort she could offer.

“I’ll fetch you when I can,” Aldrik affirmed.

“I may be with the minister.”

He paused, searching her face. “You’re still working on crystals with him, aren’t you?”

“I am.” Vhalla didn’t even try to lie. “I’ve meant to speak with you further about it but . . .”

“I know, with my brother being how he is,” Aldrik agreed with a sigh. “Later, but soon. When Baldair is better, we need to speak on it.”