“When . . .” Vhalla took a deep breath, forcing herself to be brave. “When my mother fell ill, it took a week for the blood to set in. He’s not far.” She reached for the cloth, showing Aldrik.
“After the blood?” He looked from his brother’s red-tinged mucus to her.
“My mother.” She glanced back to the golden haired prince. “Three days.” She reached out to Baldair, placing her palm on his forehead lightly. “But she did not have clerics like you do here. Her fever was much higher by this point. We didn’t have a lot of good food either. If the clerics can keep the fever low, and he eats to keep his strength, I know he will fight it.”
Vhalla looked back to Aldrik. He had his face hidden in one hand, the other on his knee. Silent suffering summed him up so woefully perfectly. Her hand hovered in the air a brief moment before Vhalla brushed the skin on the back of the hand on his leg with her fingertips.
Aldrik’s face snapped up. His gaze was uncertain, but he did not move his hand away. The crown prince’s whole body was still and tense. Vhalla’s fingers slid and curled in a reassuring motion. His hand closed around hers with sudden force, and they did nothing but look at each other.
“I won’t leave again,” she whispered. “Whatever ill fate awaits us; I’ll wait for it with you.”
“I want you with me, always.” His other hand caressed the chain on her neck. “Even if you never need me again in the same way, I need you.”
His fingertips paused, the metal of the watch the only thing separating his hand from her chest. Aldrik took a deep breath. “I want to start over. Before the heartbreak, the anger, before the foolish words that were said, and before you knew the man I used to be.” His dark eyes pleaded with her, his voice breathy beneath his mask. “I want to go back to a time when I could teach you magic. I want the chance to treat you as I always should have.”
“I don’t think it works that way.” Her own mask hid her tired smile.
“We can make our own way; we always have.” Aldrik cupped her cheek boldly, and Vhalla didn’t stop him. “What have we to lose?”
“Everything?”
“Is that all?” His eyes were alight.
Vhalla gave into that joy for only a moment. Baldair wheezed in his sleep, reminding her where they were, what was happening. Her expression fell as she considered the ailing prince.
“Aldrik, promise me one thing.”
“Anything.”
“If anything ever happens to me . . .” She remembered Baldair’s words. How if she left Aldrik, and Baldair didn’t pull through, their future Emperor would be truly alone.
His hands suddenly gripped her shoulders, and the prince was half out of the chair, staring at her with a shocking intensity. “Nothing will happen to you.” Aldrik looked right through her, and Vhalla had no idea what he saw, but it terrified him. “I will not let it happen.”
“Aldrik . . .” Her brow furrowed in confusion, trying to figure out the source of the man’s panic.
He took a deep breath and seemed to remember himself once more. “I-I’m sorry.” Aldrik let her go quickly and rubbed his eyes.
“When was the last time you slept?” Vhalla asked him, standing.
“I catch some sleep when the clerics are in with him.”
Vhalla translated the Aldrik-speak to mean that it had been a long time. “Rest,” she demanded. “I’ll sit with Baldair ‘til dawn.”
She pushed Aldrik lightly toward the other room. Thankfully, he did not give much of a struggle, and he allowed her to herd him toward the couch he used as his makeshift bed during his brother’s illness. Aldrik laid down, pulling off his cloth mask, and dropping it onto the floor. Hooking a finger, she lowered her mask to drop around her neck since she would need it again in a moment. Vhalla situated the blanket over him.
“My prince,” she dropped to a knee at the side of the couch. Aldrik turned to look at her. Neither seemed to mind her method of addressing him. Vhalla resisted the urge to touch his face. She ignored the desire to run her fingers through his hair. “I don’t wish we could start over. Everything that happened, we made mistakes, but-but we loved, and I don’t regret that.”
His hand reached up and took hers at the edge of the blanket. His fingers intertwined with hers, and Vhalla’s heart stuck in her throat as she watched them lace together. “Fight at my side again?”
Vhalla nodded, not finding her voice. She didn’t know in what capacity he meant, but she could guess.
“I will be better. I will never push you away again,” he whispered.
“I’ll never let you,” Vhalla laughed softly.
“I vow to honor my promise to you, Vhalla.”
Her free hand rose to her watch, a look that affirmed she understood the promise he meant—his promise of a future together. “And I will mine.” Their promises still meant something.