“I don’t know.” Aldrik pulled her to him suddenly. “I wasn’t thinking. I haven’t been thinking. I don’t have a plan. I don’t know what will happen. I haven’t calculated how likely certain courses of action are. I don’t know, Vhalla, so I will plan for the worst.”

“Let me help you.” She pried herself away from the warm safety of his embrace.

“I will, but first I have to go and find out how the pieces are moving.” His palms were on her cheeks. “I will take you away myself, if I must. For now, just hide.”

“But—”

“Elecia will run out of that stupid story soon, if not already. When she does, she may be able to buy more time but, damn it, they may be knocking down my door already.” Aldrik shook his head and pressed his forehead against hers. Vhalla swallowed. All this because he took solace with her in his moment of grief? Would his father really go so far? “Stay here, stay safe. I will come back to you as soon as I can.”

The door clicked closed behind him, and Vhalla was left alone in the room.

She shivered as her bare feet stumbled across the stone to the door. Vhalla turned the lock with her shaking fingers and drew an unsteady breath. The world kept spinning, her head was thundering, and her heart would not relent in its panicked flutter.

Vhalla sunk to the floor, staring at the small room. She was trapped like an animal backed into a corner. Even Aldrik was terrified, and he’d brought her to what was possibly the most secure place he had. He relied on his skill, the Tower, and time to keep her safe. But if all that failed, she had no idea what fate awaited her.

“Baldair, this is all your fault.” Vhalla pressed her eyes closed and refrained from shouting at ghosts. She curled into a ball and buried her face in her knees, just focusing on breathing.

Her eyes were jolted open again when a knock sounded on the door at her back. Exhaustion had somehow won out, and she had no idea how long she’d dozed. Vhalla struggled to rouse.

“Open the door?”

The voice gave her pause. “What is most beautiful before it dies?”

“A rose,” Fritz answered, barely loud enough for her to hear.

Vhalla scrambled to her feet and snapped the lock open. Fritz entered quickly and stopped just within, his eyes adjusting to the dim light, as Vhalla closed the door behind him. The small sack he’d brought fell to the floor as Vhalla pulled him in for a tight embrace.

“Vhalla, Gods. Vhalla, what . . .” He couldn’t seem to find words. Her perpetually enthusiastic, ever-talkative friend couldn’t find words.

“Fritz, everything is a mess.” Tears burned her eyes again. “Baldair, Baldair is dead, and then Aldrik, he, we, we didn’t—I mean.” Vhalla shook her head. “He needed me, Fritz . . . It shouldn’t be this way.”

“Vhalla,” he whispered gently. “You’re covered in ash and soot and blood.” He put his palm on the crown of her head. “When was the last time you brushed your hair?”

Vhalla blinked at him. Had he not been listening to her? This was hardly the time.

“Is there a washroom here?”

“I don’t know . . .” Vhalla couldn’t decipher her friend’s actions.

Fritz chose one of the two doors, and picked wisely. It led into a bathroom that was small, yet still befitting a prince. Fritz assessed things for a moment before beginning to draw a bath.

“Sit here.” He placed her on the edge of the tub and began to nib through the drawers and cabinets. He located a brush and some soap before returning to kneel before her. “Will you let me help you bathe?”

Vhalla blinked, he was asking her to undress for him.

“I don’t want to leave you alone right now, Vhal. I want to help you. I grew up with all my sisters and can assure you that you won’t surprise me with anything. Plus, it’s not as if you’d have anything that could entice me.” He grinned half-heartedly.

Was he right that it didn’t matter? Vhalla couldn’t foresee Aldrik being particularly pleased at another man seeing her naked. She was fairly nervous with the idea. But she’d bathed with other girls. Did it make any difference that he simply had something different in his trousers than she? What was more important, how he was in her mind, or how he was in his body?

Vhalla slowly peeled off the singed and stained clothes.

Fritz didn’t even bat an eye at her naked form. Concern and compassion were written across his face, and he focused only on hers. He exhibited no spark of want or desire. Vhalla saw Larel’s spirit in her friend as he helped her into the steaming tub.

He hovered beside her, lathering soap into her locks with a soothing touch. Vhalla stared at her palms. The water was already a dingy color from the soot and grime that was on her. A small voice counseled that she should feel guilty for her part in staying with Aldrik, but Vhalla couldn’t evoke the emotion. He had needed her.

“Has the Emperor come into the Tower?” The hot water had calmed her enough to think rationally.

“No.” Fritz placed some hair over her shoulder as he began to brush the next section.

“What have you heard?” She needed to know if she was going to calculate what was next. “Tell me true, Fritz.”

“That Prince Baldair has died. That the Windwalker and Prince Aldrik ran off together in a fit of grief,” he listed.