Aldrik stopped. “It is indeed.”
“Where is the princess?” Vhalla asked delicately.
“Do you think she stays with me?” he asked incredulously. “Scandal aside, I would never let the girl into my haven.”
Vhalla swallowed as he crossed back over to her. Aldrik always said more between his words, and she heard him as clearly as ever. His hands rested on hers.
“Let me take those.”
“It’s fine. You have to open more doors, right?” His soft words coaxed her into whispering.
“I was going to do it alone before.”
“But you’re not alone, are you?” It was her turn to speak between words, and Aldrik’s expression let her know he’d heard her.
The prince’s hands fell from hers, and he started for the door to the left. She focused only on him, ignoring the opulent sitting area he’d led her into. Even if they were never anything more than they were now, would she be happy?
Aldrik poked his head out of the main door, glancing up and down the hall. He motioned for her to follow, and Vhalla walked on air over the plush white runner that went the length of the hall. They crossed to a door opposite.
As he opened the second door, Vhalla realized that she had been in this hall before. The day Baldair had invited her to the gala, he had taken her to the same room she now faced. But it didn’t have the same brightness as then. Now it was cast in darkness, with vials—empty and full alike—littering nearly every surface. The room smelled strongly of herbs and salves.
A blanket was thrown over one of the couches in the sitting area, a pillow keeping it company. A semi-circle of books stood in defense of the cleric’s equipment that encroached in on a set of parchments with familiar handwriting on them. As she put the books down with the others, Vhalla wondered how long the elder prince had been living with his brother.
Aldrik held out a length of cloth to her. She noticed he’d already covered his own nose and mouth with one. Vhalla brought it to her nose and covered the lower half of her face with it.
They walked over to a secondary door that was almost entirely gilded. Aldrik knocked twice lightly, then paused. There was rough coughing barely muffled by the door. Vhalla braced herself, as if she was headed into battle once more.
“Enter,” came a tired voice from within. Baldair faded into another fit of coughing as Aldrik pushed open the door.
“Brother.” The older prince took a few steps in, holding the door open. “I brought a guest.”
“A guest?” Baldair wheezed. There was a rough and raspy chuckle after a short pause. “Vhalla, come in.”
“How did you?” she mumbled as she inched into the room.
“Who else would my brother bring at this hour of the night? Without prior word? Directly into my room?” Baldair reclined in a large bed with a golden canopy.
Vhalla noticed a chair set by his bedside and glanced back knowingly at Aldrik. These brothers were impossible, and it was almost hilarious how the world thought they hated each other. How they tried to insist sometimes that they did.
“How do you feel?” she asked gently, crossing over to the edge of the younger prince’s bed, leaving the chair for Aldrik.
The crown prince lit the candles at the bedside tables with a thought, then sat.
“Almost like the time I had a sword through my shoulder.” Baldair coughed. “But closer to my chest.”
“Here, cough into this for me?” She took a small piece of cloth off his bedside table and handed it to the prince.
“Coughing is not a problem.” Baldair chuckled, and it sent him into another fit.
Vhalla sat directly on his bed and held out her hand for the cloth when his coughing subsided. She looked at the mucus; it had a distinctively red tinge. Her heart sank.
“What is it?” Aldrik read her face without difficulty.
Vhalla wanted to scream at the cloth and burn it, as if that would make its truth disappear. Blood, the blood was starting. It would get worse from here. She took a deep breath and forced herself to remain calm, to not panic. Aldrik had brought her for her experience, but her experience was only death once the blood set in.
“You need to eat.” She looked back at Baldair. His usually glowing face was hollow and pale. “When was the last time you ate?”
“Do I have a new cleric?” Baldair asked his brother with a tired grin.
“She had Autumn Fever when she was a girl, Baldair,” Aldrik answered. “She has seen it, she has lived through it. You know how the clerics are.”
Vhalla glanced back at the cloth in her hand. She had lived through it. She had also lived with her mother dying from it.
“Food,” she said again, not entertaining the memories of her ailing mother. “You have to eat, Baldair.”
“Vhalla,” he groaned. “It hurts to breathe, and you want me to eat?”