He turned and pulled her a half step closer, she obliged with a full step. It was impossible to move without touching somewhere. Each brush of fabric or turn of the head sent chills through her. When his hand shifted from her waist to the small of her back, gooseflesh dotted her arms. She looked up at him and he met her eyes. The silence wasn’t awkward or stressful; it spoke more eloquently between them than they had ever been able to speak with words.
The song finished, but he held her there. Looking away, she clutched the seams of his jacket and rested her left cheek on his chest. Aldrik stiffened briefly, and Vhalla held her breath, expecting to be pushed away. He let her hand go and trailed his fingers down her arm to her shoulder, before it rested with his right on her lower back. His skin was warm, almost hot, and she could feel the outline of his hand even through the corset and dress. Vhalla moved her free hand to his other shoulder, and they stood there together for a long time in silence. He rested his cheek on her forehead and took a breath. Vhalla willed with everything she had for the world to stop so she could linger in the moment eternally.
In those fleeting moments, the complexities of titles and who they were faded into base emotion. She wanted, she needed him. This man, who was regarded as little more than a curt and dark monster, had somehow claimed her without ever truly touching her before this night.
“Vhalla,” her eyes fluttered closed at the mention of her name. “First the library boy, then Baldair. I am envious of them.”
“Why?” She needed to hear the answer.
“Because they seem to have no trouble finding reasons to be around you. And I...” A deep chuckle resonated through the crown prince’s chest into the ear she had pressed against it. “I struggle to find a reason, and when I am with you I struggle still.”
There was something strange about his voice. It held a barely audible huskiness that sent heat to the pit of her stomach. Vhalla tightened her grip on his clothes.
“You shouldn’t struggle for anything, you’re the crown prince,” she breathed into the crisp autumn air.
“I may be a prince,” he said as his lips brushed her ear lightly. “But I would trade it all to be a common man, even if only for tonight.”
His lips made her knees feel weak. Vhalla shifted her head to look up at him; Aldrik wore an unfamiliar and heavy expression. She wished she had years with him to hear his stories, to talk about his pains and his joys, to continue to enjoy slow afternoons together, to work out the strange struggle between them that was both irresistible and undeniable. But a clock ticked in the back of her mind. Dawn would come far too soon.
“Are you really leaving?” she whispered faintly. He sighed and glanced away. Vhalla lifted her hand and cupped his cheek, turning his face back toward her. He didn’t resist her touch, and she searched his pained expression.
“I do not know the exact hour. But yes, soon,” Aldrik confessed in a deep rumble.
She bit her lower lip and shifted her hand up his face. Her fingertips grazed his pronounced cheek, his brow, and forehead. Vhalla paused, stopping on the golden crown that was nothing more than a barrier between them.
“Then for one night, if I can pretend I am a lady of noble birth—” She grabbed the circlet gently with her fingertips and lifted it off his brow. He stiffened as she dropped it to the ground. “—can you pretend you are a common man?”
Vhalla wasn’t sure what she fully implied as his eyes grew wide. Aldrik’s lips parted in surprise. All she knew was that if he was to leave, she didn’t want to leave without experiencing his closeness and warmth.
“I’m afraid, if you leave...” she choked out, thinking of a rainy night that seemed so long ago.
Aldrik lifted his hand to her cheek and lightly ran his fingertips down her face, as if he was worried she may break at any moment. Very briefly his thumb touched her lips and his arm tightened around her waist, eliminating any remaining distance between them. Vhalla felt him along her whole body; his warmth, his presence enveloped her.
“Vhalla,” he whispered with a voice as dark as midnight. His nose was almost touching hers.
“Aldrik,” she breathed faintly, as though it was a prayer. No word had ever tasted sweeter on her tongue.
As she felt his warm breath on her face, he paused and turned his head toward the city, his expression drastically changed. Vhalla looked over, frustrated and confused.
The first fiery explosion rang out through the clear night, sending shockwaves across the capital of the Empire.
A SECOND BEFORE THE blast, Aldrik turned his body so that his back was toward the explosion. His hand was buried in Vhalla’s hair as he pressed her protectively to his chest. She clung to him, trembling. Her ears had not yet stopped buzzing when the second explosion shook the mountainside, and Aldrik’s arms pulled her tighter. She cried her fear into his chest at the mind-numbing sound. For a moment there was silence, and she tried to catch her breath. However, the stillness was short-lived as slow-growing noise began to float up from the city below.