“Come.” He pulled them off the floor and out of the room.
The prince led her to his room, and she joined him in his bed without a second thought. Singed, bloody clothes and red eyes, they became a tangled mess of limbs. Their chests alternated heaving with tears and feeling so empty that there was no more emotion from which to cry. He never explicitly asked for her to stay, but there was nowhere else Vhalla would’ve been. She eventually fell asleep with him tucked tightly in her arms as a storm brewed just outside the door.
THERE WAS A knock on the outside door.
Vhalla rolled over in her sleep, and Aldrik’s hands followed her. He pulled her to him instinctually, his body curling around her. She sighed softly. Everything hurt less when she was in his embrace.
Another firm knock roused her further. It must have been loud, or it would’ve been impossible to hear from across the large main room and his bedroom. Vhalla blinked her eyes, opening and closing them with a wince at the blinding light.
The knocking continued, and a soft call of Aldrik’s name finally brought him to life.
“Who is it?” she mumbled, staring out the windows. It was just after dawn, so they couldn’t have slept for that long. The sun’s brilliant rays bounced off a thick layer of snow that had fallen on his balcony during the night. The first snow of winter, and Vhalla could feel no joy for it.
“I’m not sure . . .” Aldrik proceeded cautiously to the main room.
“Are you going to answer it?” she whispered, following him.
Aldrik held up a hand in reply and listened.
“Aldrik,” a voice called gently through his main door. “I know you’re in there.”
Vhalla’s head was sluggish with exhaustion. It was too gentle to be the Empress, to clear to be Za. It wasn’t melodic enough to be the princess’s. She thought perhaps it was some cleric or staff, but none of them called the prince by his name. Who could it be?
“Aldrik?” More knocking. “If you’re there, you don’t even have to open the door, just say something.”
“Elecia?” he called into the door.
“Aldrik.” Vhalla heard the sorrow in Elecia’s voice. She heard the grief, the guilt at having been too late. If Vhalla could have just switched places with her, then perhaps Baldair would have lived. She took a shaky breath. It wasn’t fair to blame the other woman but, by the Gods, Vhalla wanted to.
“I want to talk to you.” Vhalla realized why she didn’t recognize Elecia’s voice immediately. There was a quivering strain to it. A tension pulled out her words in an unfamiliar way.
Aldrik’s fingers closed around the lock. Vhalla watched him as he was just about to turn it. She opened her mouth to object, considering her soot stained clothes and obvious bed-head.
“Aldrik, do you remember that time when you and Baldair came to the West together?” Elecia said quickly. Aldrik stilled. “You both had an official meeting that I so desperately wanted to attend. I thought it was viciously unfair that I couldn’t go.”
Aldrik’s hand fell away from the door.
“You promised me I could go. Baldair thought you were just telling another one of your lies, but you had a way, remember?” Elecia’s story was slowly told, her words enunciated one by one as though she was in desperate need of him to hear them. “I thought you were so kind then. Do you remember what you wore?”
The prince took a step away, his face suddenly serious—a thin veil for the panic that lit his eyes. Vhalla didn’t understand.
“I remember, I’m sure it’s no surprise . . .” Elecia continued rambling.
Vhalla never heard the rest of the story. Aldrik spun on his heel and practically sprinted back toward her. Vhalla’s hand was in his, and he tugged her into the bedroom, closing the door quickly behind them, taking care not to slam it or make any loud noises.
“Aldrik, what’s going on?”
He threw open one of the large armoires in the room, reaching behind the familiar plate for a key.
“My father is waiting out there,” he answered in a rush.
“What do you mean?” She couldn’t fathom how he knew that.
“I hate that memory,” he explained, taking her hand again and leading her into the secret hall between his room and the Tower. “We were kids. I snuck her in through a passage I’d discovered that people used to secretly listen to the conversations in the room.”
“What?” Vhalla struggled to connect things in her head. Why did this matter now?
“He punished me fiercely for taking her somewhere she didn’t belong. He said that if someone had discovered her presence, it would bring great shame to the crown for having a secret listener on official business. That I was lucky they didn’t.” Aldrik opened the door to the Tower, half-pulling her up it.
“So, your father is there?”