Vhalla looked behind them at the deep tracks in the snow. Despite the cold, sweat ran down her forehead. If she had her powers, she could cover those betraying dips in the white world. Cursing aloud, she snapped the leather in her death-grip, her heels digging into Lightning. Anyone would be able to see the path leading right to the Charem home.
“We need to split up!” Vhalla pulled hard on her reins. “Loop around in circles.”
“What?” Reona was shaking, and Vhalla doubted it was from cold.
“Make a bunch of circles, loop back, and then we’ll meet back up again in a bit. Stay in earshot,” Vhalla ordered.
Cass picked up on what Vhalla was attempting, likely she was one of the hunters of the family, and followed Vhalla’s orders. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but the abomination didn’t seem too intelligent, and it was better than nothing. They rode apart for a stretch, coming back together just as the Charem home came into view.
Orel was out chopping wood. Tama and the two Northern women were tending to something in the livestock pens. The horses were a fury of thunder that shattered the relative peace.
Vhalla met a set of emerald eyes. Sehra studied her face as if she was able to replay the horrors Vhalla witnessed from her expression alone.
“Daddy!” Reona launched off her horse, stumbled, rolled in the snow, found her feet, and ran to her father. Orel was confused, but wasted no time scooping his crying daughter into his large arms. “Daddy, daddy, daddy!”
The commotion drew the men from within the home, and a pair of dark eyes met hers. Vhalla looked at Aldrik, and her chest tightened. He knew instantly something was amiss.
Vhalla and Cass dismounted, and the older girl stumbled in the snow. Cass went instantly to her mother, saying nothing. Tama stared at her shaken daughter and took her child into her arms without question.
“What happened? Reona, sweetling, what happened?” Orel tried to console his hysterical daughter.
Vhalla stood in the snow, at a loss as to who she should turn to. Her arms hung limply at her sides as the information continued to sink into her. Aldrik’s gaze was upon her, his boot crunched the snow. Vhalla raised her gold-flecked eyes to meet obsidian.
“Vhalla,” he asked, he demanded.
She swallowed. Someone had to do it. One of them had to say it, and she was not about to make the girls who had accompanied her perform that duty. They were just girls, as she had once been. But her innocence had long since been lost. It was a fate she would not force, nor push, upon the Charem daughters. Vhalla’s shoulder ached all the way to her chest.
“Aldrik.” She did not care for the lack of his title before anyone anymore. Vhalla spoke only to him. “It’s Victor.”
He took another step toward her. Vhalla braced herself. She would find the words. Strength, she had to find the strength first. Her will would replace her magic; it would be just as strong as her winds ever were.
“What happened?” He kept his eyes locked with hers.
“The Emperor.” No matter what the man had done to her, to them, he had been Aldrik’s father. Vhalla’s voice softened. “Your father, the Empress, they’re dead.”
“What?” Elecia stepped forward as if she had somehow misheard Vhalla.
Aldrik tried to reach out, but only briefly. The spark that brought his hands to life was gone, and they hung at his side. His lips parted, and she saw the shock crash down on him. Her heart broke for the man she loved. First his brother, now his father, and who knew how many countless others were dead and gone.
Panic momentarily overwhelmed her at the thought of everyone she still loved in the capital, but Vhalla pushed through it.
“There was a messenger—a tainted abomination—sent from Victor. I can only assume one of many,” Vhalla answered Elecia, though her gaze stayed on Aldrik. “He was dead, long dead. But there was a crystal through his eye, and it somehow kept him moving.” She shook her head; it was magic beyond her understanding. Sehra had said as much. All the rules were gone now. This would be a fight unlike any they had ever seen. “He said Victor had become the supreme king of this world. That the old regime, the family Solaris and all who supported them in the capital, were dead.”
Her words filled the forest clearing, and Vhalla could see the moment everyone understood their meaning. Aldrik visibly swayed a moment, taking a step to adjust his balance. Vhalla’s hand rose to the watch at her neck. He was a prince without a throne. A man who had lost his mother, his brother, now his father, along with his kingdom and everything he had ever known. No one said a word. Aldrik stared blankly at her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. With those words, she knew it became real for him. Her sympathy, her pain on his behalf made the rest of it true, just as it had with Baldair.
He opened and closed his mouth, trying to find words. Her prince, he had endured so much death, so much loss and hurt that she could not save him from. Now Vhalla feared he was on the point of breaking. She took a step forward, at the same time as Orel.