He crossed the room to the woman, resting a palm on her shoulder. “Don’t be so nervous, Vhalla. The crown prince is your ally.”
Fritz patted her twice and left her in the care of the Fire Lord. He vowed to ride with the girl the next day. It would only further the illusion that they were crafting. He would show the crown prince they stood together.
ALDRIK
Aldrik pulled his chainmail over his head with a soft hiss. His shoulder rejected the movement, protesting angrily. He pulled at the collar of his shirt, looking at the deep purple bruise that was already threatening to consume the skin between his neck and arm. It was going to make riding painful and now was not the time to be anything less than his best. Aldrik turned his attention to the mail with a sigh. It was dented, and fixing the links was an utterly loathsome process. It was a process he’d deal with later. For now, he was more determined to close his eyes for a blessed few minutes.
He never expected to actually sleep. Sleeping would mean he’d be able to ease the tightness in his muscles and trust the buffoons under his command enough to do their jobs on lookout. The hollow underground, framed by a skeleton of tree roots, was a safe enough place to hole up in – his favorite on the march, if he was choosing between things he hated and things he loathed – but Aldrik was keenly aware that the one entrance made it both easy to defend and to be trapped within.
Footfalls, muffled by soft earth, pried his tired eyes open. He’d pinned a square of canvas to the ground on his right and earthen wall at his left for a modicum of privacy – the benefits of being a prince. So, he didn’t see her until she was crouched down at the opening opposite the corner he was leaned against. She stared at him uncertainly from underneath her dark hood and Aldrik peered back through narrowed slits.
He could still intimidate the girl, that was good. She should be intimidated. She should need to gather her confidence before initiating conversation with him. She should want to be kept at arm’s length. Things were better that way, and they always had been. The only times he’d slipped up had been Inad and Vhalla; and, given how his relationship had ended with the former and was shaping up with the later, it was not exactly a great track record.
“My prince,” she whispered, mindful to keep her words low enough that they fell underneath the talking of soldiers enjoying their small reprieve around a tiny fire not far off.
Aldrik imagined he were dissecting her piece by piece. He imagined starting with her heart and carving out her chest. He watched her squirm as if she could read his mind. It was a game he played, to see how far he could get mentally breaking down people bit by bit until they gave in and ran. Those who were foolish enough not to run were usually met with his ire and that was a fate that would usually send the bravest of men scrambling, much to Aldrik’s satisfaction.
At least, it had been his satisfaction, until her. Until Vhalla Yarl, the library apprentice whose na?ve trust sparked a dangerous flame of hope in his chest. Until she had stood up to him. Until she had made it his mission to regain that trust. The woman had ruined the fragile and lonely world he’d created for himself well and truly, that much was more evident by the day.
The woman had saved him.
“I brought you something, for bruising.”
Aldrik studied her eyes, rather than imagining gouging them out. He had no idea how this creature, so beautifully soft and textbook feminine, had passed for the unorthodox variety of stunning that his Vhalla was. The girl’s eyes were nothing like his Vhalla’s.
She produced a vial, placing it between them like a peace offering. Aldrik focused on it for a moment before returning his attention to her. Passing swift and harsh judgment on her meager token.
“Why did you save me?”
Well, he certainly hadn’t expected that. “Why, indeed?” he drawled, resting the back of his head against the wall of dirt behind him. “I could be sleeping now were it not for your intrusion on my privacy.”
“It was stupid.” She frowned.
There was a time where he would’ve lashed out at her with such ferocity that she would’ve wished he’d taken a physical whip to her. But, for as annoying as the girl was, for all the ways she was wrong and not his Vhalla, she did have one similarity with the woman she was masquerading as. She’d somehow wormed her way under his skin and into a place that wasn’t easily removed. Likely only as a result of the illusion they’d been keeping for weeks. After all, he was the Fire Lord, the dark prince, and he didn’t make friends.
“I shall overlook that comment.” He needed her to be aware that while she’d managed some special status it wasn’t to be tried or tested. It stilled her and she finally lowered her eyes, humbled. Aldrik hadn’t realized until he’d been interacting with the girl how much he’d enjoyed his Vhalla and how she was finally keeping her eyes upward when speaking to him.