“Right.” Vhalla stood as well, having completely lost herself in her father being alive and well. “Well . . .” Her eyes scanned their rag-tag lot. It was actually a humorous sight. The disgraced lord, the Southern Sorcerer, the Western noble, and the Emperor.
“Fritz is my dear friend; we met in the Tower of Sorcerers.” Vhalla introduced her friends to her father in the order they dismounted. “He’s helped me countless times and is a really gifted Waterrunner.”
“Elecia is also my dear friend.” The woman in question looked startled that Vhalla would call her such. “She doesn’t let me get away with anything, Papa. She’s really gifted and strong, also.”
“Jax is—”
“Her personal guard,” the Western man finished.
Vhalla squinted at him, about to correct him that he, too, was a precious person to her.
But her father interjected, “Thank you for protecting my girl.”
“She’s pretty good at protecting herself.” Jax placed his hands on his hips, assessing her thoughtfully. “Just as good as she is at getting into trouble.”
“I can hear you, you know,” Vhalla remarked dryly.
“Oh, I know.” Jax grinned madly.
“You have certainly found interesting company to keep.” Her father chuckled and turned to the last remaining man in question. “And you are?”
Her chest tightened. Her Emperor? Her lord? Her prince? Her friend? Her lover? Her betrothed? Any of those titles could’ve fallen from Aldrik’s lips.
“My name is Aldrik,” he said simply.
Vhalla stilled, even Elecia looked surprised at Aldrik’s casual introduction.
“M-my lord.” Her father dropped to a knee in surprise.
Aldrik stared down at him for a long moment, before kneeling as well, so he could speak at eye-level. “Just Aldrik is fine.”
“No-no, I couldn’t,” her father protested. He had served in the military for years. Vhalla knew how engrained respect for nobility was in his mind. How he knew his place before his leaders and sovereigns. He knew it so well that he had been the one to teach it to her.
“I’m asking, please, simply Aldrik.” He spoke in a casual cadence and actually smiled.
“Papa, it’s okay.” Vhalla tugged on her father’s arm, urging him to stand. Her father looked greatly uncertain still. “Aldrik is, well, I’m going to marry him.”
Her father looked between Vhalla and Aldrik, clearly struggling to process this.
Even Aldrik looked at her in surprise, but he collected himself quickly. “That is, sir, if you have no objections.”
The Emperor looked even more surprised when the Eastern man before him burst out laughing. “It’s Vhalla’s choice, not mine. I’m not the one you’re asking to wed. If she is happy, then I am happy.” He held out a hand to Aldrik. “Rex Yarl.”
“A pleasure to finally meet you, Rex.” Aldrik clasped hands with her father, and Vhalla had to remind herself that she wasn’t in some dream land. The Emperor was really shaking hands with her father.
“Where should we tie up the horses?” Jax asked.
“Oh, right. There should be enough space in and around the barn.” Vhalla looked up at the sky. “Doesn’t look like rain, so they should be fine on an outdoor tie.”
Elecia, Jax, and Fritz took the horses to tie, tactfully giving Vhalla, Aldrik, and her father some time alone.
She slipped her hand in the Emperor’s, his fingers folding against hers. “Let me show you my home.”
Her father still seemed nervous by Aldrik’s presence. He walked calmly enough at her left side, but he kept making occasional glances at Aldrik. Vhalla tried to gauge his expression from the corners of her eyes, which proved difficult. Just because she knew what she wanted and didn’t need her father’s approval, well, that didn’t mean she didn’t want it.
“These are the strawberry bushes Mama and I planted when I was little.” It was almost spring, and they already had tiny fruits nestled between their leaves.
“One spring, Vhalla ate them all in one afternoon,” her father spoke to Aldrik, looking at the plants fondly.
“I had such a stomach ache!” Vhalla laughed, remembering exactly the time her father spoke of.
Rex smiled at his daughter. “Your mother had no sympathy for you either.”
“She was so cross.”
“As was I. I wanted one of her berry tarts.” There was still a note of sorrow when he spoke of his deceased wife.
“She did make the best tarts,” Vhalla sighed wistfully.
Vhalla picked three of the fruits for each of them to try. They were tiny and somewhat bitter from not having ripened enough. But, for Vhalla, they tasted of springs long past, seasoned sweetly by reminiscing.
Walking around the flagstone, they came across a tree that Vhalla had planted from an off-shoot of the old oak. She remembered it as nothing more than a tiny sapling, but it was now almost taller than she was.
There was the outdoor soaking barrel, where she and her mother had spent many an afternoon bathing. It wasn’t far from the outhouse. But they passed all these and headed for a low rectangular stone with a dish-like dip in the center of the top. Vhalla looked at the empty bowl thoughtfully.