Vhalla pulled her face away in surprise, his hands wrapping themselves around her shoulders.
“When you ran off, I couldn’t follow you; I couldn’t send anyone for you—I should have. I’m sorry, Gods I wanted to ...” Aldrik breathed deeply and fought for his composure.
“Aldrik,” she said, moving his hands from her shoulders into her grasp, barely containing a small wince. “I didn’t want you to follow me.” Hesitantly she reached out a bandaged hand and caressed his face. It was the first time she could remember touching his cheek and instantly regretted that half her hand was wrapped. Vhalla gave him a small smile. “I wanted to keep you safe. That’s my job right? Keeping you alive?”
Aldrik let out a chuckle and shook his head. He shifted, leaning toward her. Her fingers fell from his face into both of his hands. Vhalla felt lightheaded from sitting as she became aware of his proximity.
“Vhalla,” he murmured softly, tightening his grip. “I thought I might never have another opportunity to see you, to talk to you.” Aldrik stared at their laced fingers; his thumbs stroked the backs of her bandages. “I thought you would ride away and I would never ...” His voice trailed off to barely more than a whisper. He braved giving her his attention once more, and Vhalla felt something flutter frantically. “I would never have the opportunity to tell you that ...”
Vhalla leaned closer to him, savoring every word. She could almost feel his breath on her face when he spoke.
“That I ...” Aldrik was suddenly keenly aware of her attentiveness and there was something that resembled fear at the realization. Aldrik’s lips parted.
Vhalla held her breath.
He promptly closed his mouth and looked away as the rumble of heavy footsteps drew closer. Vhalla followed his eyes to the doorframe.
“Lie back down,” Aldrik mumbled with resignation.
Vhalla obliged and stared upward, hoping she’d feel less dizzy soon. Aldrik sighed and stood, moving to a cleric’s chest that sat open on a nearby dresser. He was picking out a bottle filled with a clear-syrup when the golden prince burst in without a knock.
“Vhalla, the hero!” he enthused. “I heard you had woken!”
“Word travels too quickly,” Aldrik cursed under his breath.
“How do you feel?” The younger prince walked over, ignoring his brother.
“Tired,” she said simply, truthfully.
“Yes,” Aldrik crossed the room to hand her the vial, and she took it without question in one gulp. “She should not be entertaining company right now.”
“Oh?” Prince Baldair cocked an eyebrow. “What are you then?”
Aldrik glared at his brother.
“Boys, don’t fight,” Vhalla muttered; she was too tired for their nonsense. Aldrik blinked at her in surprise and Prince Baldair chuckled. “How can I help you, my prince?”
“Our father would like to host you for breakfast.”
Vhalla blinked at the prince, fairly certain she heard him wrong. “Wh-why?” She stared in shock. The last time Vhalla had seen the Emperor up close he was passing judgment on her for an attempt on his son’s life. Vhalla sought silent guidance from Aldrik, but he had that stony walled-off glare he got around his brother.
“To thank you, I am sure,” Prince Baldair answered.
“She needs her rest,” Aldrik objected.
“Surely she has to eat?” the younger prince protested.
“I’m not in a state that is fit to see—” Vhalla paused; she couldn’t say “royalty” as half of the Imperial family was before her. “—to see the Emperor,” she finished.
“Father understands your situation. Don’t fret over decorum,” the golden prince countered with a smile.
Vhalla picked at the bandages around her fingers. “I suppose I cannot refuse my Emperor,” she said softly.
Aldrik looked at her with marked concern. “I will speak to my father.”
“It’s just breakfast.” Vhalla tried to reassure herself more than anyone else. Aldrik stared hopelessly at her, and she gave him an apologetic look.
“Excellent! An hour then.” Baldair clapped his hands together and left.
Aldrik shifted, pulling a chain that ran from a button to his pocket. He glanced at the silver pocket watch she’d admired on more than one night after their Projection practice. “You shouldn’t have agreed,” he murmured and returned to his prior position.
“Aldrik, when will you understand?” She struggled to sit again, pressing the heel of her palm to her forehead with a sigh. “I am never in a position to refuse your family.”
“What?” He seemed honestly confused.
Vhalla smiled tiredly, it was cute how clueless he was at times. “I am nothing, no rank or title. More so, I’m property of the crown. You or any of your family could order anything of me, and I would be forced to oblige.” Vhalla ran a hand up his forearm, but he pulled away briskly.