Vhalla ran her fingers reverently over the small table, the bed, and stopped at the wardrobe. Opening the doors, Vhalla stared at the contents for a long moment before promptly closing it. Her clothes were folded and hung on pegs, exactly the same as Larel had left it.
Closing her eyes, Vhalla pressed her forehead against the shut doors, as if she was locking a specter of the other woman in the wardrobe. As if she could protect herself from it entering her heart once more and consuming her soul. Then again, Larel had given her Serien, and Serien had become part of the woman Vhalla had grown into. She opened the doors again.
Vhalla knelt and carefully plucked a silver bracelet from atop a stack of carefully organized notes. If she were a Firebearer, she would have burnt them. But Vhalla resigned herself to living a little longer with the notes that Aldrik had exchanged with her a lifetime ago. She ignored any whisper in her heart that her reason for keeping them had little to do with whether or not she could start a fire.
She decided to proceed directly to Victor’s office. Despite all the grime that coated her, Vhalla didn’t want to wait a moment longer to deliver the axe to the minister. The conversation with Egmun was still fresh, and she had some questions for the current Minister of Sorcery.
The minister’s quarters were higher than hers, and there was almost nothing close to it, save for one more door that was completely unmarked. If Victor’s office had been farther down the Tower, Vhalla might have missed the heated conversation under the noise of sorcerer apprentices coming and going about their daily duties. But this high up, the halls were empty and silent. Vhalla clenched her fists, heightening her hearing by opening her magic and inviting the air into her.
“. . . she is too bold, Victor.” The Emperor’s voice.
Vhalla looked around frantically. Swallowing the knowledge of whose chambers she was about to hide near, she sprinted up to the shallow alcove, pressing herself against the unmarked door at the top of the Tower. It would’ve been too far for anyone else to hear, but the silence and still air allowed her to magically stretch out her hearing, and she heard as clearly as if she was standing with her ear pressed against the door.
“. . . bother you. She was only saving her skin from Egmun.”
“Yes, Egmun has given me counsel on what he thinks we should do with her.” Footsteps stilled and Vhalla could only assume the Emperor had been pacing. “You think she can be controlled?”
“I told you as much when you last returned from the war. Aldrik has command over the girl, you have command over him; she is yours,” Victor said easily, setting Vhalla’s heart to racing.
“I sought an end to that. He was actually involved with the creature,” the Emperor spat.
“You knew that was a risk, my lord, given Aldrik’s history with the women he chooses.”
The axe seemed to pulse with a nervous energy that matched her heartbeat. Vhalla clutched the worn saddlebag tighter.
“My son does not always make the best choices; he has his mother’s heart. It troubles me deeply, as I shall leave this continent to him so that I may continue my expansion,” the Emperor muttered. “Though, since removing the distraction from his attentions, he has improved significantly, putting our Empire before himself. He may just have hope as a ruler yet.”
“The Crescent Continent? Such is still your plan?” Victor asked, somewhat cautiously.
“As long as you are confident we have the girl,” the Emperor retorted.
What? Vhalla was screaming the word in her mind. She didn’t understand. No, she understood it perfectly. She just didn’t want to.
“You want me to guarantee her cooperation?” Victor seemed surprised.
“It hardly matters if it is willingly or not, as long as she plays the role I have scripted for her. It has taken long enough to find a Windwalker, and the axe is the last of the Goddess’s weapons. It must be her, or I cannot turn my campaign across the sea while my army is primed. Without the power in the caverns, we do not stand a chance against their magic.”
“Did you manage to get the axe?” Victor’s voice held a tension to it that wasn’t there before.
“Not yet,” the Emperor seethed. “The Northerners think they will be able to keep it from me. But I will have it, even if I have to squeeze its location out of their princess myself.”
Her nails dug into the saddlebag. Blood, the man wanted blood and more blood. He wanted to feast upon it until he was bloated. Vhalla stared at the flap of the bag. If she killed the Emperor now, she would be put to death. But would it be worth it?
Vhalla never thought that out of everything the Head of Senate had said to her, that his final question would linger—but now she found herself weighing the life she’d fought so hard for against allowing a murderous madman to travel to new places and bring war in his wake.
“I see. Well, you must keep me informed as to your successes, my lord,” Victor hummed.