Two boards were enough to shield her from prying eyes and Vhalla squatted down against the wall in the small triangle of space they made. She held her breath, closed her eyes, and listened. With her Channel open, she became the wind’s confidant, listening to its secrets. Delicate pulses along it, pushing outward and pulling back to her, told her that there were three people sleeping in the camp palace.
Vhalla glanced at the camp, looking for anyone who was awake and paying attention. Finding no one, she crept from her hiding place, pulling open one of the slatted shutters over the low window. Vhalla sat on the ledge of the window and swung her feet inside, pulling the shutter closed behind her.
The room was plunged into near darkness, the shutters mostly thwarting the silvery light of the moon. It was a familiar space to Vhalla after the days she’d spent curled in the bed. But this time, the bed was occupied.
Five shaky steps and she was at his side. All strength left her, and Vhalla collapsed onto the edge of the bed, her hand to her mouth. Her shoulders lurched as she brought her forehead to his chest. She felt his breathing, much steadier than the last time, and she turned her eyes back to him only when she was certain she could control herself enough not to cry aloud and alert everyone to her presence.
The relief was overwhelming. There was still a bandage around his head, but it no longer appeared to be oozing blood. Most of the other bandages, including on his arms, had been removed. His face had returned to a mostly normal color, and the swelling had gone down. He wore a stubble on his cheeks that she’d never seen before; Vhalla couldn’t prevent herself from touching it, from touching him.
“Oh, Aldrik,” she whimpered into the humid night air. “Aldrik ...” Her fingertips ghosted over his face, and Vhalla inched closer to him. “My love.”
Vhalla felt exposed and naked, raw to the world. She pressed her quivering lips to his, delighting in the unique lightening his skin could spark across the storm clouds of chaos that brewed within her. He was the start and end of her world, the glue holding together her fragile sanity. He was everything, and without him she was lost.
Vhalla straightened, looking down at him. He was all that to her. So she had to be the same and more for him. She absorbed every inch of his face, of the exposed collarbone and chest just above the blanket. He needed her to be strong, he needed her in a way he would never need anyone else.
She shifted her fingers to his temples, pressing lightly into his hot flesh. Vhalla closed her eyes and slowed her breathing. It was like Projecting; she wanted to push herself outward, but not into the open air, into him, into them.
Their breathing echoed in perfect time; their heartbeats drummed a knowing rhythm of two people who had become so linked that even death itself couldn’t separate them. Vhalla lost herself in the symphony of their essence, allowing herself to mingle with him. She felt her body slip away and entered a place that only they knew.
For a moment, Vhalla lost all sense of purpose. The missing piece was found; the hollow void that had been consuming her was filled. That satisfactory wholeness put all other desires to shame. Why would she want to escape? Why would she want to take him from this place of warmth and love into the harsh world waiting beyond?
But she didn’t let herself indulge too much. She was here for a reason. As much as she wanted to run from the world and retreat into him, the world still needed its prince. It needed the heir, the wonderful man she had come to love.
Aldrik, her thoughts ripped through the world that existed only between them. You need to wake up now.
Somewhere on the horizon of her perception, a hot wind swept up toward her. Fire followed, setting the world ablaze around her: a mental defense.
Enough of this! she called, not allowing the childish protest to overwhelm her. Don’t fight me.
He was here. Vhalla’s heart—their heart—began to race and, with it, her metaphysical feet took flight. She ran through the flames that did not burn her. Through the darkness that spun into light.
In those flames, she saw the flickering outlines of figures. She saw a man she knew well and the boy he had grown from. Shadows of Aldrik’s past danced beyond her reach, too hazy to decipher, the glittering specters trying to distract her from her mission.
Aldrik! Vhalla cried once more. She was losing all sense of time. Seconds or days could have passed in the real world and she would not have known it. Vhalla raised her hand to her shoulder, sweeping it across her chest.
The wind scattered the flames, pushing them away. Vhalla turned and repeated the process, snuffing the burning memories. She rotated, banishing the horrors he worked so hard to keep confined within the dark corners of his mind. Vhalla removed everything, until all that was left was him.
There was nothing around them; they had no real bodies, but the illusion of Aldrik sat curled in on himself, his face hidden against his knees. Vhalla stepped forward slowly, or perhaps she willed the world to move around her. Either way, she reached her destination.
Dropping to her knees behind him, Vhalla wrapped her arms around the hunched man’s shoulders.