Vhalla frowned slightly. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.” His words were quick and breathy. “Tell me, Vhalla, do you still love me as you once did? Do you hold any feelings for me in your heart? Is there a single ember of love that I might, honorably, fan to life once more?”
“You are engaged,” Vhalla whispered weakly. “I’ve seen you with her.”
“With her? Publically, yes.” Aldrik laughed, a deep and sorrowful sound. “Do you think I love her because I have to put on a show? Because I tolerate her as I must?” He met her eyes, and Vhalla witnessed the unfiltered truth as he spoke it. “Vhalla, you should know, out of everyone, you know I chose the woman I wanted to be my wife long before I knew the Northern girl even existed.”
Fire raged through her veins, flushing her skin at his words.
“I made my choice. And, while I cannot honor that choice with my hands, I shall honor it eternally with my heart.” Aldrik leaned forward, almost close enough for her to feel his breath. “If you will not say it, then I will. Vhalla, I—”
“She means to kill your father,” Vhalla blurted out. Somehow, confessing to knowledge of treason was less frightening than knowing, beyond all doubt, that Aldrik still loved her.
“What?” Aldrik straightened away. “How do you know that?”
Vhalla swallowed. If it had been anyone else, she would’ve been afraid of telling the truth. But she knew Aldrik wouldn’t subject her to a trial, use her knowledge as an opportunity to jail her—or worse. “She and Za called me for a meeting.”
“When?” Aldrik’s expression darkened.
“After my day at court.” Vhalla launched into a quick recount of the evening, ending with the princess’s suggestion that Vhalla help them escape after killing the Emperor.
“We expected this.” Aldrik began to pace. “I’ll have to shift the guards on her room, change the watch patterns so she can’t learn them.” He paused, as if remembering Vhalla was there. “Why did you tell me this?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“You, of all people, should hate my father,” Aldrik pointed out.
“I do,” Vhalla had no hesitation in affirming such. Her bluntness brought some amusement to Aldrik’s expression. “But I’m tired of the bloodshed. If she kills your father, then she’ll be put to death, and it’ll likely spark a rebellion in the North. You’ll be forced to subdue them because the only other alternative to appease them, possibly, would be letting the North go from the Empire. That may cause a different sort of civil war from people who would rebel against freeing them after so many lives were lost to bring Shaldan into the Empire.”
He watched her with sorrow that matched what she felt in her heart.
“It’s why she must be the future Empress . . . There isn’t another way now that doesn’t end in blood.”
The truth they both were loath to admit was out, and now they had no choice but to face it. Whatever Aldrik had been playing at was nothing more than a fool’s dream. It was the same dream they’d indulged in during the war in the North. Vhalla knew how quickly it could become a nightmare and had no desire to linger over it further.
“Speaking of Northern rebellions,” Aldrik paused, clearly struggling with his words as he became suddenly uncomfortable. “The axe, the one Sehra asked for . . .”
Vhalla dreaded what Aldrik was about to ask her next, so much so that her skin crawled.
“You have it, don’t you?”
“How do you know?” Vhalla breathed. She heard it in his tone, the way he asked, and the way he moved. The question was only a formality, as he already knew the truth.
Aldrik frowned and cursed slightly under his breath. “Does anyone else know?”
“Yes.” She braced herself for what she expected would devolve into a fiery confrontation.
“Who?”
“Daniel was there when I found it in the North,” she confessed.
“Daniel?” Aldrik said the name as though it was sour on his tongue. “My brother’s Easterner?”
She nodded.
“You and he . . .” Aldrik looked at her hopelessly.
Vhalla fought to suppress her instinctive response that Daniel and she were nothing more than friends. Maybe it was better if Aldrik believed her heart could belong to another.
“Never mind,” he muttered. “Does anyone else know?”
“Victor.” She was in too deep to hold anything back.
Aldrik pinched the bridge of his nose with a heavy sigh. “That’s it?”
“That’s it,” Vhalla affirmed with a nod.
“Baldair’s Easterner.” Vhalla noticed that Aldrik wouldn’t use his name. “Will he tell anyone?”
“He hasn’t told a soul so far; I don’t know why he would now.”
“Pleasure, pain, power—men have many motivators.” Aldrik ran a hand over his hair. “Daniel won’t,” she insisted.
“I leave him to you, then.” Aldrik glanced at her from the corners of his eyes. She let her expression betray nothing. “I’ll take care of Victor.”