“Thank you.” She pressed her lips against his in gratitude.
It was a cheap demonstration. Vhalla knew it didn’t absolve them. It was like trying to wash the blood off their hands with mud, no matter that they were filthy with the acts they were performing. But it was all that could be done.
It was better than nothing, she insisted to herself. There would be time after the war was over to figure out how else she could help. For now, she would focus on ending it as quickly and cleanly as possible. “Let me tell you where the food stores are.”
Aldrik spent the next hour hunched over her shoulder as Vhalla drew lopsided diagrams of what she’d seen. She did her best to label everything, from livestock pens to where the densest collection of civilians was. The quill paused.
“There’s something else,” Vhalla began slowly, unsure of how to proceed.
“What?” Aldrik could infer a good deal by her tone. “I found a Western man among them.”
“Likely a prisoner of war.” Aldrik rested a palm on her shoulder. “We were probing Soricium for months before we could cut a path to lay siege.”
“No, he was not being held against his will.” Vhalla stared at the paper before her, and Aldrik’s grip tightened. He was too smart not to instantly understand what she was saying. “He’d made a deal with them, on behalf of the Knights of Jadar, that if the North gave me to them alive, they’d kill the family Solaris.” Vhalla gazed up at Aldrik. The prince had a murderous stillness about him. She held her tongue, letting him formulate the best response.
He whirled in place, fire crackling around his fists, starting for the door. Vhalla was on her feet as well; the room spun from exhaustion and she gripped the chair for support. Aldrik stopped, assessing her tired form. He was back at her side, scooping up her messy drawings.
“When was the last time you slept?” Aldrik half supported her, turning for the bed.
“Some, the night before last,” Vhalla admitted. “With you, yesterday.”
“You must rest,” he whispered over her lips, sealing his demand with a kiss.
“It’s evening, I should—”
“You’re staying here now.” Aldrik pulled back the covers on the bed.
“What?” Her face had gone scarlet at the idea.
“It’s not safe, not with the Knights making an organized play. I won’t have you far from me again. As far as my father is concerned I will be staying with Baldair.” Aldrik paused, helping her under the blankets. “But I will come as often as you’d like.”
She was too tired to fight him and the pillows were already casting a spell on her. Vhalla gripped his hand tightly. “Your father,” she gave her objection.
“Vhalla, I am not going to ask him for this. I am going to tell him,” Aldrik spoke in a tone she hadn’t heard before. Vhalla stared, stunned, as he straightened away. “I’ll be back later, to check on you at the least, but rest for now. No matter what, I won’t be far.”
Vhalla nodded and Aldrik disappeared out of the room. He stood taller, he walked with a sort of confidence she’d never seen about him before. Vhalla didn’t know what exactly was changing her prince, but there was a change—she’d heard it in his words.
He hadn’t spoken like a prince. He’d spoken like an Emperor.
SHE STIRRED AS the door opened. Vhalla remembered the day in panic, immediately envisioning a dagger-wielding cloaked figure coming for her. Taking a breath she sat, her muscles taut—ready to fight or flee.
Aldrik’s eyes picked up the faint moonlight and flashed in the darkness. He stilled, as if waiting for her to send him away. Vhalla held her breath. The crown prince was sneaking to her side under the cover of night. It felt like another world, as though the day was the dream and this moment was real.
The door sighed softly as he closed it the rest of the way. Aldrik crossed to the bed, his breathing slow and heavy. He stared down at her with eyes she’d only seen once before but was pleased to already see again. Vhalla propped herself up onto her elbows, pulled by attraction to meet his mouth as it descended upon her.
The mattress yielded at his weight, and the prince chased away all thoughts by heaping his adoration upon her. He tasted of metal and smoke and of the sweet tang of liquor. Magic was hot on his tongue, and it melted across her skin. Vhalla relinquished her control, tipping her head back and allowing the prince to take what he had wanted.
She savored the confidence of his palms as they smoothed away the toils of the day. They discarded the ugly scraps of fabric that confined her, leaving Vhalla’s emotions bare before him, the raw essence of who she was.