Screams, cries, and wails carried up the mountainside, and Vhalla pressed her hands over her ears. Aldrik continued to hold her tightly while she regained a shaky control.
“Wh-what?” she asked frantically, all words and thoughts falling to the rising panic. His grip loosened as he looked over his shoulder. Vhalla shifted her body so her eyes could follow his.
A fire was already beginning to sweep through the city, jumping from house to house. Smoke began to blot out the stars and cover the city in a foul, orange haze.
Vhalla took a step away from him, toward the scene.
“Where—” she stammered, “—where is that?” Her brain felt scrambled from noise and shock.
“Vhalla, you need to return to the palace. Now.” Aldrik’s tone was sharp and he grabbed her forearms, refusing to let her wander from him.
She resisted his tugs, glued to the scene. Something fitted into place in her mind.
“Vhalla,” Aldrik moved in front of her, a hand on her cheek. “The guards will be mobilized. I’ll go help myself,” he said, trying to be assuring, but his voice sounded strained and panicked. “But I need you to go back in the palace where it’s safe.”
Vhalla stepped to the side of him and looked back at the scene. Her eyes widened as her brain returned to life. She inhaled sharply, her breathing rough.
“R-Roan, Sareem.”
“What?” She barely heard Aldrik ask, he sounded far away.
Vhalla pointed. “That’s where the square of the sun and moon is, isn’t it?” her voice raised in fear.
“I don’t know, Vhalla.” Aldrik shook his head trying to take her hand again.
“It is.” She looked back, and there was no doubt. “Roan, Sareem! Aldrik, my friends are there!” She turned back to the scene.
“So were half the commoners in the city. Now, back in the palace,” he snapped and grabbed her wrist with force.
“No!” she cried, wrenching her hand back. “No! They need my help.” Vhalla turned and felt a hot wind rise up to the sky, carrying the smell of fire. She remembered her confrontation with Roan, telling her of Sareem’s plans to meet her at the bakery near plaza. Vhalla had never told Sareem anything different, and Roan most certainly would have gone to claim the man she loved. Vhalla’s chest tightened. She hadn’t apologized to either of them. She hadn’t even had a chance to explain what was happening to her.
Without any thought, Vhalla was running, ignoring the prince’s cries at her back. Her fancy heeled shoes were soon left behind on the marble, and Vhalla moved quickly in her bare feet. One of the terraces stretched outward to the top of the wall and Vhalla sprinted across the shallow water, her skirts quickly growing water-logged and heavy. She heard a splash and looked behind her—Aldrik had given chase.
“Vhalla! Stop this! You’re not going to be able to help them!” he cried.
But, she wasn’t ready to hear reason. All that filled her ears were the sounds of screams. All that filled her nose was smoke and death. All that filled her eyes was a burning inferno closing upon two people she had known for half her life—friends she had foolishly shut out.
Vhalla reached the wall and hoisted herself up. It was much taller on the other side, taller than even the bookcases of the Imperial Library. She looked down a moment, uncertain.
“Vhalla, they may not even be there.” Aldrik had caught up with her. His breathing was fairly easy where hers was labored.
Vhalla began to rip at the gathering on her skirt, starting a tear between her calves and knees. “They were there,” she insisted.
“You don’t know,” Aldrik insisted.
“Come down.” “Sareem would have waited all night for me!” She choked a sob of guilt as she looked at the sky. It was past their arranged time to meet. If she had just told him the truth, he and Roan may have spent the evening in the palace as the three of them had so many years prior. Burdened with guilt and grief, Vhalla jumped off the other side of the wall.
The air rushed past her ears and around her, blowing the remaining skirt this way and that. Vhalla braced herself but she landed lightly in a crouch.
“Vhalla!” Aldrik called from atop the wall.
She stared up at him, offering an apologetic expression before plunging herself into the chaos of the streets.