Water's Wrath

Two guards snapped to attention as Aldrik walked upward. His hands were folded behind his back, his shoulders were tall, and he was every inch the prince. Vhalla looked at him and could see her future Emperor. She had no doubt he would command respect, but she prayed he could do so with love more than fear.

“My prince.” The guards saluted in unison, hastily opening the gates.

“Lady Yarl, this way.” His voice was detached, and he hardly even glanced back at her.

She tried to play her part and look as uncomfortable as any average citizen would be in tow of the Fire Lord. It still behooved them both to conceal their affections.

They walked through the dazzling central atrium Baldair had led her through months ago, navigating down a side hall that Vhalla recognized instantly. Clerics passed them hastily, their hands laden with crimson rags that made her heart lodge in her throat.

Aldrik led with his cold and distant mask as he brought her into the hive of activity of Baldair’s sitting room. Clerics flitted about and mixed potions, but Vhalla’s eyes rested on the one outsider to the group.

The princess’s hair was tied atop her head with delicate white lace. The girl was swathed in the Imperial color, white fabric trimmed in gold flowing elegantly down to her feet. She turned from her place at the window when Vhalla entered. Sehra and Aldrik must have attended the same school for training their expressions, as her eyes gave nothing to Vhalla’s searching stare.

“Lady Yarl,” a cleric called for her attention. Vhalla jerked her eyes away from the princess before her stare could linger too long. “Thank you for coming. The prince personally requested to see you.”

“It’s hardly trouble. An honor to be called on by the family Solaris,” she replied dutifully. Vhalla’s eyes widened a moment; she recognized the gray hair and bushy eyebrows as the cleric who had come earlier to attend Baldair.

“You see, the prince is quite sick,” he explained as though it was Vhalla’s first time in the room. “We have been told you have contracted Autumn Fever before?”

She nodded. “I have.”

“Excellent; your risk is far lower then. Still, for your protection.” The man handed her a mask.

“I understand.” Vhalla tied the mask around her face adeptly.

“Given the prince’s condition, we ask that you limit your time. We do not want to exhaust him, so please try not to let him talk too much,” the cleric explained as they started for the door.

Aldrik settled himself on the couch, a book in his lap as though he hadn’t a care in the world.

The bedroom door opened suddenly to reveal the Empress. Vhalla saw the woman’s normally youthful radiance had been reduced to red and puffy eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, and her hair was pulled into a single braid. She inspected Vhalla up and down.

“No one other than family,” she announced sharply.

“My Empress,” the cleric faltered. “The Lady Yarl was only brought here because of his direct request.”

She continued to block the doorway. “I did not hear such a request.”

“You had stepped out a moment,” the bushy-eyebrowed cleric explained.

“Isn’t it convenient that the request occurred then?” she murmured with a nasty look to the back of Aldrik’s head.

“I don’t want to make trouble.” Vhalla was sincere, which shone through enough that it made the woman pause. Vhalla could only imagine the pain the Empress was shouldering; now was not a time for Vhalla to insist on her pride. “I am more than happy to depart, if that is best.”

The woman opened her mouth to speak, only to be cut off by a tired wheezing. “Vhalla, don’t be crazy,” Baldair managed from the bed within. “My mother said only family. Clearly—” He coughed, and Vhalla heard the blood come up. “Clearly, the little sister I never had is included in that.”

The woman looked toward her son in shock, then back at Vhalla. A lot of eyes were on her at once, and Vhalla gripped her hands more tightly. Clearly Baldair’s condition had made him fearless, and Vhalla knew she had to also be so in order to give the prince what he was asking for.

Vhalla followed the Empress into the room, startled to see the Emperor on the opposite side of Baldair’s bed. The Empress assumed her seat next to her husband, and Vhalla awkwardly took the seat on the opposite side of the bed. She tried to ignore her sovereigns as much as possible, focusing on Baldair instead. His normally brilliant eyes were listless and dull.

“Come now, Vhalla.” He coughed. “Don’t give me those sad eyes.”

Her hands moved before a cleric could. Vhalla mindlessly picked up the cloth from his bedside table so she could blot the blood from the corner of his mouth gently without a thought, just as she had done for her mother.

“Forgive me, my prince.” She forced her voice to sound strong.

“Baldair,” he wheezed. “I don’t have time for pretense anymore.”

Vhalla finally glanced at the Emperor and Empress. She couldn’t make much from their expressions. The Emperor’s was hard and shut off. The Empress’s eyes glistened.

“Don’t say that, Baldair,” she whispered. Vhalla turned her eyes back to him, and the world went away. “Please don’t.”

“I know.” Baldair lifted his hand, and she took it gently. “I can feel it.” He coughed again, and a muffled whimper escaped her lips.