Outside was this grim march of activity, but within the room of the crown prince, the day progressed with relative peace. Aldrik and Vhalla had given just enough time to strip their armor and sponge the blood off their faces and hands before collapsing in the bed, soiled clothes and all.
It was not a beautiful sleep; it was a deep and worn out coma. Vhalla’s face was flat against the pillow, her mouth open, and her breathing deep. Aldrik splayed out on the bed, limbs this way and that, barely fitting alongside her. It was a sleep that rested in the comfort that they had one less thing to fear with the dawn.
Vhalla closed her mouth, wetting her lips. She cracked her eyes. The day’s light crept through the slats in the shutters, casting long, unbroken beams through the smoke that inevitably penetrated the room. She grimaced.
“It stinks,” Vhalla groaned, and Aldrik barely moved.
She rolled onto her side and curled against him, her head on his upper chest. Vhalla took comfort from his proximity, his slow breathing. She knew he no longer smelled it, or at least that was what he’d told her long ago. He had torched so many people that it barely registered to him as the awful stink it was. Vhalla settled back into sleep as his arm instinctively curled around her. She really hoped the pillows did not smell for however long they were forced to remain.
She had fallen back asleep, though she had no idea for how long, when there was a pounding on Baldair’s door. Vhalla rolled away from the source of the noise, as if it would make the person go away. Aldrik cursed softly, but did much the same.
“Boys,” the Emperor called through Baldair’s door. Still believing—or faking belief—that Aldrik slept in there so Vhalla could have his room for her protection.
They were both upright, Vhalla looking at the prince with wild, panicked eyes.
“We have received a reply. Come now,” Emperor Solaris demanded.
“Coming, coming,” Baldair’s muffled voice could barely be heard.
The Emperor appeared to have no interest in waiting for his sons as his footsteps faded away.
Aldrik turned to her, in shock. “A reply,” he breathed.
Vhalla couldn’t find words.
“A reply!” Aldrik placed his palms on either side of her face, pulling her in for a fierce kiss. “I would bet it is a surrender. Given the display of our might.”
Aldrik stood quickly, pulling on a fresh shirt. Or rather, a fresher one than the one he’d worn through the battle. Vhalla looked at the bed sheets, completely soiled from the state they’d went to sleep in. She was suddenly regretting the decision not to change her clothes. She didn’t look forward to sleeping in that filth before the march home.
“I will go help finish this war.” Aldrik paused by the door. “Then I will speak with my father, and you will be a Lady of the Court.”
“Do you really think so?” Vhalla’s hand gripped the watch around her neck tightly, realizing how much she needed it to be true.
“Of course.” Aldrik beamed. “You were brilliant. All eyes turned to you for inspiration; it was literally painted upon half the army. The merit of your accolade will not be questioned.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but there was a soft set of knocks on the door.
Aldrik opened it for Baldair.
“Are you coming?” Baldair glanced at her, and Vhalla smiled tiredly.
“Yes, yes.” Aldrik grabbed his chainmail off the floor, quickly donning it. “I shall return soon as I am able. Sleep more if you can,” he said to Vhalla.
“You don’t have to tell me twice.” She yawned and rolled onto her side, pulling up the covers once more.
“Lucky,” Vhalla heard Baldair mutter under his breath, and she couldn’t help but giggle softly. The door closed, and she listened to their footsteps disappear down the hall. Vhalla pulled the blanket to her nose. The smell was truly awful.
She wasn’t sure how long she had fallen asleep again for, but it was long enough for the light to have moved across the floor a noticeable distance. The shouting and arguing of men called her to life. Vhalla yawned, instantly regretting the instinctual movement as the semi-smoky air filled her lungs. She sat coughing, trying to listening more closely to the aggressive noises.
Vhalla tried to use her magical hearing to make out the words, but her Channel was too weak to sustain even that. What she could hear was that they were frequent and angry. The deep resonance of Aldrik’s fury competed against the Emperor’s sharp and fierce tones. Vhalla bit her lip and stood, her whole body aching.
Tugging at the chain around her neck, she opened her watch and checked the time. It was around two, which meant she had close to eight hours of sleep. Yet, she still felt exhausted. The magical depletion had taken its toll, and without the rush of battle to hide it, she realized how much she had used up the night before.