Water's Wrath (Air Awakens Series Book 4) (34 page)

“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?”

“I have no doubt. Elecia’s being forced to be a puppet right now. No matter what she may think of my stealing you into my room, if there’s one thing Elecia would hate more, it would be being someone else’s puppet.”

“What will your father do?” Vhalla’s head hurt from all the crying the night before, from the grief, from panic.

“I don’t know, and I don’t have enough time to figure it out,” Aldrik said with a curse.

If there was one thing the Gods did for them that day, it was keeping the hallways bare of observers. Though Vhalla had no idea how it would matter if someone did. Clerics had surely already been talking of the crown prince stealing away the Windwalker in a fit of grief. There were likely already rumors running rampant through the castle about the future Emperor’s infidelity with his
favored whore
. She grimaced at herself for even thinking what was certainly the gritty truth.

They stopped before the highest door in the Tower. Aldrik slipped the key into the lock and affirmed all her suspicions that these were the secondary quarters of the crown prince.

Braziers around the room sprung to life with a wave of his hand, casting long shadows beneath the sparse furniture. There was a table and two chairs placed toward the center. Along the back wall were, unsurprisingly, shelves of books and cabinets of curiosities. There was a small bed pushed to the left corner, a door next to it. Another door led off somewhere to the right of the room. The few windows were covered with heavy black curtains. It wasn’t a large space, perhaps three of her personal quarters, and everything had a slightly stagnant and dusty smell to it.

“Your Tower chambers.”

“Yes, and they only have one exit or entry.” He pressed the key into her palm. “This is the only key. I need you to lock that door behind me and let no one in. If someone comes and knows you are in here, ignore whatever they say and ask them what is most beautiful just before it dies.”

“What is most beautiful just before it dies?” she repeated, committing it to memory.

“A rose,” he answered softly. “If they do not respond with that, do not let them in—even if it is me. No matter what else they do or say,
do not open the door
.” Aldrik swallowed. “And if someone forces entry, jump.”

“What is going to happen next?” Vhalla tried to anticipate his thoughts and plans, to make some of her own. Everything was moving too quickly, and the world was still in flux from Baldair’s death.

“I don’t know.” Aldrik pulled her to him suddenly. “I wasn’t thinking. I haven’t been thinking. I don’t have a plan. I don’t know what will happen. I haven’t calculated how likely certain courses of action are. I don’t know, Vhalla, so I will plan for the worst.”

“Let me help you.” She pried herself away from the warm safety of his embrace.

“I will, but first I have to go and find out how the pieces are moving.” His palms were on her cheeks. “I will take you away myself, if I must. For now, just hide.”

“But—”

“Elecia will run out of that stupid story soon, if not already. When she does, she may be able to buy more time but, damn it, they may be knocking down my door already.” Aldrik shook his head and pressed his forehead against hers. Vhalla swallowed.
All this because he took solace with her in his moment of grief?
Would his father really go so far? “Stay here, stay safe. I will come back to you as soon as I can.”

The door clicked closed behind him, and Vhalla was left alone in the room.

She shivered as her bare feet stumbled across the stone to the door. Vhalla turned the lock with her shaking fingers and drew an unsteady breath. The world kept spinning, her head was thundering, and her heart would not relent in its panicked flutter.

Vhalla sunk to the floor, staring at the small room.
She was trapped like an animal backed into a corner
. Even Aldrik was terrified, and he’d brought her to what was possibly the most secure place he had. He relied on his skill, the Tower, and time to keep her safe. But if all that failed, she had no idea what fate awaited her.

“Baldair, this is all your fault.” Vhalla pressed her eyes closed and refrained from shouting at ghosts. She curled into a ball and buried her face in her knees, just focusing on breathing.

Her eyes were jolted open again when a knock sounded on the door at her back. Exhaustion had somehow won out, and she had no idea how long she’d dozed. Vhalla struggled to rouse.

“Open the door?”

The voice gave her pause. “What is most beautiful before it dies?”

“A rose,” Fritz answered, barely loud enough for her to hear.

Vhalla scrambled to her feet and snapped the lock open. Fritz entered quickly and stopped just within, his eyes adjusting to the dim light, as Vhalla closed the door behind him. The small sack he’d brought fell to the floor as Vhalla pulled him in for a tight embrace.

“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.”

“You’re leaving?” She stood also.

“I have to. It’s not good for me to go missing too long. Grahm agreed to be an alibi if I need one.” Fritz gave her a tired smile. “But it’s still not a good idea to push things. No point in rousing suspicions within the Tower.”

“Right.” Vhalla grabbed his hands. “Fritz, thank you, for everything.”

“Of course, Vhal. It will work out, I’m sure it will.” Her friend’s confidence sounded false, but the final squeeze he gave her before leaving certainly wasn’t.

With the metallic sound of the lock sliding back into place, she was alone again in the room. Vhalla sighed heavily. There were books, but she didn’t want to read. There was some kind of closet or storeroom through the other door. But it was dark, and she didn’t feel too inquisitive.

In the end, Vhalla collapsed onto the bed, her face buried in the pillow. But she didn’t cry. She didn’t like feeling isolated and alone. Her mind was already churning with plans for what she could suggest when Aldrik returned.