Larel hummed softly behind her in confirmation as she continued to dry Vhalla’s hair.
“I did.” Vhalla nodded.
“I’m glad.” Larel pulled Vhalla in for a tight hug. “I’ve been worried for you.”
“You have?” It was a dumb question and Vhalla knew it. This was the woman who had held her through shivers and shakes. Larel had been the one who pieced her back together after the Night of Fire and Wind. She knew every jagged piece that was still cutting into Vhalla’s heart.
“You’re not someone to live in darkness or sorrow.” Larel reclined on the bed, inviting Vhalla to do the same. “You’re a light that can shine brighter than even the sun.”
“That sounds treasonous,” Vhalla teased.
“I mean it all the same.” Larel leaned forward and pressed her forehead against Vhalla’s a brief moment. “You have something in you, Vhalla, something most never have or lose quickly. I cannot wait to see when you realize it yourself.”
“I’m nothing ... I’m not even myself, I’m property of the crown.” The more she said it, the deeper it sunk into her. She needed to accept this truth to make it through the war.
As if sensing that fact, Larel didn’t outright object. “You are, for now. But soon you’ll be back in the capital studying and doing great things.”
“But I can’t—”
“Oh, stop arguing.” Larel laughed lightly, running her fingers through Vhalla’s hair lovingly. “You’ll see it eventually.”
Vhalla closed her eyes. “What if I don’t?”
“You will.”
“Will you still be there to help me? Even if I don’t?” Vhalla asked softly, feeling like a child who still needed her security blanket to face the monsters that lurked in the night.
“You know I will be,” Larel promised.
“Thank you,” Vhalla whispered. “Good night, Larel.”
“Good night, Vhalla.” Her friend replied, holding tightly to Vhalla’s hand as she drifted into sleep.
The door eased open quietly and the soft sigh of the hinges lingered on Vhalla’s ears. Fritz had stayed out with Craig and Daniel after the restaurant. Vhalla wondered how drunk he was to come crawling into her room again. She rolled over, pressing her face into the pillow.
The footsteps barely made a sound. Her ears picked up the movement of air more than the noise upon the floor. There was something amiss, but her sleep-filled mind couldn’t quickly place what it was. Something about the footsteps ...
Footsteps. Two sets of footsteps.
Vhalla yawned, bringing a palm to her eyes. She expected to see Craig and Daniel, or some combination of them with Fritz. But when Vhalla blinked the sleep from her eyes, the figure standing at her bedside was a nightmare come to life.
She recognized the Northerner staring down at her. Vhalla remembered a night of fire, a night of running through burning streets with a prince on her heels. She remembered being attacked but cautioning the prince that despite there being four assailants, two were still missing.
Moonlight glinted wickedly off the wavy blade the Northerner raised. Vhalla stared in frozen shock.
Another sword cut through the air, and Vhalla turned instinctually toward the sound. The first blade sliced deeply on her back, narrowly missing impaling her due to her sudden and unpredicted movement. The pain of the weapon digging into her flesh didn’t even register as Vhalla’s mind tried to process what was occurring.
She stared at the blade of another swordsman, plunged straight through Larel’s stomach. Blood, inky black in the darkness, poured out from the wound. Larel’s dark eyes were jolted open in shock. A strangled gurgling noise accompanied the loll in her friend’s eyes as they drifted to Vhalla, blood bubbling through her gaping mouth.
Vhalla screamed.
THE NOSE VHALLA released sounded more animal than human. It was a high-pitched shriek, wordless but perfectly expressing the agony that rushed through her veins on the back of adrenaline. The sword was pulled from Larel’s stomach and the assassin twisted it through the air quickly, preparing for a second attack. The woman behind Vhalla was doing the same.
A singular instinct overtook Vhalla: the instinct to survive. She launched herself at the male assailant before her, scrambling across the bed and over the body of her friend. The swordswoman’s blade narrowly missed for a second time, slicing Vhalla deep across the calf as she was mid-lunge.
Vhalla tumbled with the swordsman, biting and scratching like a rabid beast. A heartbeat overwhelmed her senses, and Vhalla allowed Aldrik’s knowledge of combat to take over. She wanted to know every horrible way he could ever conceive to reap pain and torture upon these vile creatures.