“Vhalla, Gods. Vhalla, what . . .” He couldn’t seem to find words. Her perpetually enthusiastic, ever-talkative friend couldn’t find words.
“Fritz, everything is a mess.” Tears burned her eyes again. “Baldair, Baldair is dead, and then Aldrik, he, we, we didn’t—I mean.” Vhalla shook her head. “He needed me, Fritz . . . It shouldn’t be this way.”
“Vhalla,” he whispered gently. “You’re covered in ash and soot and blood.” He put his palm on the crown of her head. “When was the last time you brushed your hair?”
Vhalla blinked at him. Had he not been listening to her? This was hardly the time.
“Is there a washroom here?”
“I don’t know . . .” Vhalla couldn’t decipher her friend’s actions.
Fritz chose one of the two doors, and picked wisely. It led into a bathroom that was small, yet still befitting a prince. Fritz assessed things for a moment before beginning to draw a bath.
“Sit here.” He placed her on the edge of the tub and began to nib through the drawers and cabinets. He located a brush and some soap before returning to kneel before her. “Will you let me help you bathe?”
Vhalla blinked, he was asking her to undress for him.
“I don’t want to leave you alone right now, Vhal. I want to help you. I grew up with all my sisters and can assure you that you won’t surprise me with anything. Plus, it’s not as if you’d have anything that could entice me.” He grinned half-heartedly.
Was he right that it didn’t matter? Vhalla couldn’t foresee Aldrik being particularly pleased at another man seeing her naked. She was fairly nervous with the idea. But she’d bathed with other girls. Did it make any difference that he simply had something different in his trousers than she? What was more important, how he was in her mind, or how he was in his body?
Vhalla slowly peeled off the singed and stained clothes.
Fritz didn’t even bat an eye at her naked form. Concern and compassion were written across his face, and he focused only on hers. He exhibited no spark of want or desire. Vhalla saw Larel’s spirit in her friend as he helped her into the steaming tub.
He hovered beside her, lathering soap into her locks with a soothing touch. Vhalla stared at her palms. The water was already a dingy color from the soot and grime that was on her. A small voice counseled that she should feel guilty for her part in staying with Aldrik, but Vhalla couldn’t evoke the emotion. He had needed her.
“Has the Emperor come into the Tower?” The hot water had calmed her enough to think rationally.
“No.” Fritz placed some hair over her shoulder as he began to brush the next section.
“What have you heard?” She needed to know if she was going to calculate what was next. “Tell me true, Fritz.”
“That Prince Baldair has died. That the Windwalker and Prince Aldrik ran off together in a fit of grief,” he listed.
Vhalla laughed softly. “It’s actually true, for once.”
“They say the North will be up in arms about it.” Fritz sighed. “Though, most people seemed to be more amused or surprised, but not upset.”
“Should I find consolation in that?” It was interesting, however, that the people seemed to consent to the crown prince and the Hero of the North being together.
“You should find consolation in anything you can,” he answered honestly.
“How did you know I was here? Aldrik?”
“Elecia.” Fritz surprised her. “Aldrik told her because she can move more easily than he can right now. She sent me though, rather than coming here herself because, well, eyes are still on her also.”
“Is Aldrik okay?”
“I’m not sure.” Fritz shook his head. “Elecia left to go back to him, to try to help things with him. Rinse your hair.”
Vhalla did as he instructed. She washed her body next, and the conversation died during that act. Vhalla emerged when the bathwater began to cool, Fritz dutifully wrapping her in a towel. The cloth smelled as though it had been hanging for too long but there was still a lingering, comforting scent of Aldrik to it.
She was forced to rummage through his drawers until she found a stash of clothes. Vhalla didn’t have much to choose from, so she just picked what looked the warmest. As to be expected, it swam on her, and the waist of the trousers fell around her hips.
“What happened?” Fritz asked as they sat at the table. He grabbed the sack he’d dropped earlier from the floor and produced three rolls with meat.
“You have most of it already. Baldair died, I was there.” She stared at the food blankly.
“Eat,” Fritz insisted.
Vhalla forced herself to oblige. “After, it’s just as they say. Aldrik ran, he took me with him. We hid in his room.”
“Did you . . .?” Fritz asked slowly.
“We were a comfort to each other, but not in that way.” Vhalla said firmly, proud she could look her friend in the eye and say it.
“Good.” Fritz seemed equally pleased as he stood. “Try to get some rest. You look dead on your feet.”