By the time any of them heard it, it was too late.
The false Windwalker was knocked off her mount, she fell backwards and out of her saddle, an arrow protruding from her face. The Imperial company stared in shock, and the Northerners hollered in victory, making a calculated retreat. One by one the Imperial soldiers turned to the Emperor with apprehension.
“Leave her.” The Emperor turned his horse forward.
Serien lingered, longer than she likely should have, to stare at the body of the dead woman. It could have been her. That woman had died for Vhalla Yarl, and Vhalla Yarl didn’t even know her name.
The land became rockier as it elevated. Serien knew there weren’t mountains in the North, not like the South, but some of the bluffs were beginning to grow to an impressive scale. That night they had the fortune of caves and caverns to hide within. It was the first time the soldiers could relax and most capitalized on the opportunity.
Serien huddled in a nook in the rock face, protected on all sides. She rested her elbows on her knees and stared listlessly into the sunset haze. They were already a week into the march. Another two weeks and they should make it to Soricium. She gripped her arms tightly. She’d see Aldrik then. Considering the alternative would be too much for even Serien to bear.
Given the fact that it was the first opportunity at privacy, she shouldn’t have been surprised when a messenger tracked her down not long after sunset, leading her around the corners of boulders and into a small cave. He left quickly after.
“You wanted to see me, my lord?” she said, giving a formal salute—the salute of a soldier and not of the Black Legion.
“Yes.” The Emperor stood, placing his hands behind his back. “I suppose you want thanks for your act of heroism.”
She pursed her lips, waiting for him to get to the point. Waiting for him to arrive at the reason why he waited for days after that battle, why he waited for privacy.
“It’s not every day a commoner has the opportunity to save the life of the Emperor.” He walked to the opposite side of his small campfire. With the way the light illuminated his face she could almost see Aldrik’s brow in his.
“It was my honor.” He was going to make her play the game.
“Indeed,” the Emperor agreed. “It was because you are mine. Your freedom, your life, your future rest in my hands, Vhalla Yarl.”
The use of her name shredded through Serien, and it sapped the strength of her alter ego.
The Emperor didn’t miss the wavering in her eyes. “I want you to be very clear on why you are here.”
“I know why.”
“Why?” he pressed.
“To win you your war.” She didn’t even bother with the nonsense of atoning for her crimes. Serien—Vhalla—wondered if he had decided her fate the moment he laid eyes on the whirlwind.
“Yes, very good.” He began walking once more. “They said you were smart.”
There was a predatory glint to his eyes that had Serien’s hands balling into fists.
“Do you know who ‘they’ are?” the Emperor asked.
“Who?” She tried to stand to her fullest height so that he had less of a distance from which to look down at her.
“My eldest son.” The gauntlet was thrown.
Serien’s blood boiled. That’s what this was about. “He is very smart, my lord.”
“Usually,” the Emperor murmured as he inspected her from head to toe. She already knew she wouldn’t measure up. “Speaking of him, our two groups will merge again after the pass, during the final leg of the trip.”
Serien struggled to keep her face neutral; she was sure she failed. The Emperor continued to stare her down. “Is that why you called me here, my lord? To tell me that?”
The Emperor chuckled in amusement at her bold front. “No, I simply wanted to thank you for your attentiveness. It is good to know that when you focus on your duty that you are, indeed, not useless.”
“Thank you.” She took a step away, feigning the dismissal that wasn’t in his voice.
“Oh, and Miss Yarl.” She paused. “I recommend you keep that focus where it should be, on making it to the front and giving me my victory. I will not tolerate your entertaining girlish fantasies or misplaced notions.”
Serien clenched her hands into fists so tightly that the straps on her gauntlets threatened to break. She grit her teeth and set her jaw. She heard his threats loud and clear.
“Do you understand me?” The Emperor’s voice was deathly quiet.
“Perfectly.”