“What storybook do you think this is?” Vhalla laughed tiredly. “Aldrik, do you feel no joy for the fact that this new sorrow only exists because we can now wed?”
He looked at her for a long moment, as if considering what he had been assuming all along for the first time.
“If you still wish it.” Vhalla’s palms fell from his cheeks.
He caught them quickly. Aldrik pressed her fingertips to his lips. “My love, there is nothing more in this world I wish for.”
“Then let us fight for that dream.” Vhalla ran her hand over the plain clothing he’d been loaned. She smoothed the abundance of fabric down over his lean frame, finding it where she always knew it to be. The prince was hers. “Your father . . .”
“Will be convinced,” Aldrik finished confidently. “I will never let you go again. You shall stay here, at my side, as long as your heart is content for it to be so.” She studied his face as he spoke. There was pain that fueled determination. There was fear that powered a resolve that hoped against hope.
Vhalla tilted her head upward, her eyelids slowly closing. They no longer shared the Bond, and so she could no longer feel his mind’s inner design as though it was her own. He would need to show her, just as she would need to show him. His breathing washed over her cheeks as he paused, timidly.
Vhalla rose to her toes, closing the gap and gripping his shirt. It was the first time his lips had met hers in months and, despite all that had happened, they still fit perfectly.
VHALLA SPENT THE night securely tucked within Aldrik’s arms, though it wasn’t entirely comfortable. Any amount of pressure set her scarring shoulder to aching and reminded her where she was and why.
She listened to the wind as it whispered through the cracks around the window shutters. At times, she could almost believe that her magic was still there, that the wind was still calling only to her. But when she slipped her fingers out from under the heavy blankets, she felt nothing other than chill air. Just the air had become torture.
Even Aldrik’s breathing kept her awake. She’d only ever been close to the prince Joined, and now his out-of-sync breathing sounded loud. She didn’t cry, however. She didn’t let herself shed a single tear. It would be giving Victor what he wanted. Mourning the loss of her magic and Bond would grant Victor far too much control over her emotions.
No, Vhalla pushed closer to the man behind her. She had found love in spite of fate’s design and Victor’s plot. She still had her knowledge and her will. With those things she would still be deadly.
The first light that cut through the darkness roused Vhalla. She’d spent the night plotting and planning her next steps, how they would manage the Emperor when they returned, if they could truly trust Sehra to keep her word.
The limp arm that had been wrapped around her waist most of the night tightened the moment Vhalla tried to wiggle free. Vhalla turned, carefully positioning her right shoulder against Aldrik’s chest. A pair of dark eyes studied her, and Vhalla allowed herself a small smile.
“Go back to sleep,” she whispered. “You need your rest.”
“So do you.”
“I am no longer sleepy.” Vhalla rolled her eyes.
“Did you have a bad dream?”
“No.” Vhalla averted her eyes so he wouldn’t see the pain he’d parked in them. She knew he had not meant to, but just the mention of dreams made her think of what was lost between them. Never again would she see his memories in sleep.
“Is it keeping you up?” His fingers rested lightly on her shoulder.
“The pain is manageable,” Vhalla sighed. “Elecia said it will scar.”
“And?” he murmured nonchalantly. Aldrik leaned forward, pressing his lips into the fabric over the mark where Victor had stolen her magic and nearly her life. “You’re not one to worry about feminine notions of your complexion.”
“I’m not,” she agreed. “Are you?”
Aldrik laughed lightly. It was a throaty whisper. “You could turn green with yellow spots and I’d find myself uncaring. If I’d wanted a dainty court queen, I would have picked from my father’s lineup.”
“The Fire Lord with a dainty court queen?” Vhalla grinned playfully. “Now there’s an image.”
“Ah yes, quite the hilarious failure.” Aldrik brought his lips to hers lightly.
“Will you two get a room?” Jax groaned from Aldrik’s opposite side. Aldrik was pushed closer to Vhalla as a swift kick was placed on his lower back. “Tired of listening to lovers’ sweet nothings.”
“Jax!” Aldrik snapped, rolling over. “I did not realize you wanted accommodations in the dungeons upon our return.”
“After all I’ve done for you?” Jax snorted.
Vhalla took the opportunity to stand, stretching out her stiff limbs. Being brought back from the dead took a toll on one’s body.
“It seems your lady does escape, my prince.”