Fire Falling (29 page)

She wanted to laugh. Wasn’t that how it always was between them? He held out knowledge, power, desire, in his palm just before her. But he never took the step forward, he never forced it upon her. Their whole relationship he stood waiting. Every time, she met him.

Vhalla sunk her fingers bravely into the inviting warmth. It wasn’t quite like the wind, but something tingled on the edge of her senses that she could only describe as the essence of fire. She smiled in awe.

Aldrik’s hand closed suddenly around hers. Tongues of flame slithered between their fingers, eagerly tickling up her arm and singing her tunic. At such close proximity they cast a breathtaking array of reds, oranges, and yellows over the angular visage of the crown prince. He raised his other palm to her cheek, fire glittering under his thumb as he ran it over her flesh.

Vhalla’s eyes fluttered closed, his magic rubbing against hers like a whispering invitation. It was a foreign and savory sensation that quickly enthralled and commanded her. She obliged his light tugs on her chin, guiding her forward and upward. Aldrik’s lips ghosted across hers and Vhalla inhaled sharply, breathing fire imbued with his raw essence.

A knock on the door startled the two apart. The flames vanished quickly. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “I am always a private person so that no one questions when I have a reason to be.” The prince wore a conspiratorial grin. “Leave it,” he called through the door.

Vhalla ran her fingers over her lips. Food was the last thing on her mind. She’d found a different sort of sustenance.

Aldrik pushed in a rolling tray with a veritable feast, quickly motioning to it when he caught her hungry look. Vhalla witnessed the instant flush on his cheeks, his shorter breaths. She knew if she were to put a palm on his chest his heart would be racing, racing at the same speed as hers.

“We’re going to waste so much food.” With a light laugh, she eased away from the heated moment.

They ended up pushing together the two chaises, making a platform upon which they dined. Aldrik sat in one corner of the half square the backs made when put together and Vhalla occupied the other. He told her the different foods that surrounded them with expert precision, offering insights onto their origins or the best way to enjoy them. They spoke about dining etiquette and differences in cultures.

“Do you like the West or the South more?” she asked between bites.

“For what? Food?” He spooned a bit of rice.

“Everything,” she specified.

“That is a hard choice. Sorcerers are undoubtedly treated better in the West; I’m generally more loved here as a result. But I grew up in the South; my ties here are only through visiting. The palace is my home.” Aldrik turned the question to her. “And you? East or South?”

Vhalla chewed on her food a moment to give herself time to think. “It’s not too difficult really ... I come from very little in the East.” Vhalla looked down at the food; she hated the reminders of who she really was at times like this. They shattered her fantasies. “The palace is home for me also in most ways.”

“What is your childhood home like?” Aldrik stretched to reach a platter.

The idea of home held a bittersweet sort of beauty. “My home, it’s a small place. It’s stone, a roof that was badly in need of replacement the last time I was there. We’ve a wooden barn to keep a horse for plow.”

“I would like to see it,” he said casually. Vhalla couldn’t stop herself from laughing, and he frowned at her. “I would.”

“The crown prince? In Leoul? In my home?” Vhalla’s laughter rang out again. “My father may disown me for letting someone like you inside.”

The rest of the conversation was relaxed and easy between them. They spoke, lounged with food about them on the chaises and table, and talked well into the evening about everything and nothing. When it was clear they’d both had their fill, he got up to clean the plates and Vhalla helped. Old habits died hard; it felt strange to see the prince of the realm cleaning his own food when she was there. He insisted he could do it himself—she insisted she would help him.

She hovered as Aldrik returned from placing the cart in the hall for the wait staff to take care of. The outside of the stained glass was dark and Vhalla knew it was late.

“I should go,” she whispered.

Aldrik stared at her silently for a long moment, taking both hands in his. “Stay.”

“Aldrik?” Vhalla questioned.

“Stay here,” he affirmed. Vhalla bit her lip, unsure of what he was really asking. “I have more than enough space. Elecia said the chaises are comfortable.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you near me. I don’t want you to leave.” His directness pierced her and she felt her heart begin to pick up the same speed as earlier.

“I shouldn’t.” Her words were weak and faint.
Was he asking what she thought he was?

“You’re right.” He nodded, his voice was soft and deep. “Will you?”

Vhalla tried to find grounds to object. Fritz and Larel surely wouldn’t care, and there were few other people who would notice her absence. He hadn’t explicitly spoken of her sharing his bed, but would it happen? Vhalla swallowed hard. If it did,
was she ready for it?
If she wasn’t, she knew Aldrik wouldn’t force it upon her. All of Vhalla’s reason objected that it was a poor decision.

But she was too overwhelmed by his proximity.

“I will. I’ll stay,” she whispered.

He laughed softly with a shake of his head. “It’s the first time.”

“What is?”

“That I’ve asked a woman to stay with me while being completely uncertain about how she will respond.” Aldrik looked at her in relief. It was an odd thing to say, but Prince Baldair’s words came back to Vhalla. His stories of the hunt, of his brother knowing exactly what would happen, exactly what even she would do. Yet, it seemed like the infamous silver-tongued prince hadn’t calculated what was happening between them. Her own relief spread over her.

“How many times have you asked a woman to stay with you?” she teased gently.

“Well,” Aldrik seemed to be at a loss for words. “Before this? Not many who mattered even slightly.”

Vhalla felt a flush rise across her whole body. She took a half step closer, closing the gap between them. Aldrik tilted his cheek into her bold fingertips as they made feather-light trails over his pronounced cheekbone. Vhalla outlined his brow, down over the bump in his nose, the edge of his jaw, she wanted to remember every detail exactly. Her thumb brushed the corner of his lips and she felt herself move without thinking.

Aldrik tilted his head to meet her halfway, ensnaring her in a slow and purposeful kiss. Every shift, every brief opening of his mouth, made her ache for more. Aldrik’s fingers buried themselves in her hair. She was pulled against him, sighing in soft release as she felt his magic slip over her skin once more.

The prince pulled away suddenly.

Vhalla swallowed, blinking. “Aldrik ...” Her voice was strange even to her own ears, desire changing it.

“I love you, Vhalla,” Aldrik forced himself to say.

Vhalla pulled her head back in shock, her eyes wide. Her heart pounded and she repeated his words in her mind. “
What
?” Somehow she’d pushed from her consciousness the notion of him having the same feelings for her as she had for him.

“I love you,” he repeated, a determined fire lighting his eyes. “It is one of the worst things I could ever do,” Aldrik confessed. “I swear to the Mother, I have tried not to damn you with it. But you’re a rather persistent, beautiful presence in my life. And, for once, the silver-tongued prince is tired of pretending.”

V
HALLA SHIFTED A
pile of blankets about her. Her head was hazy with sleep as she rolled over. Long fingers ran through her hair, snagging lightly on tangles. She nestled into the pillow, not opening her eyes. Vhalla reached out for Aldrik under the covers, finding him but unable to touch. Her eyes cracked open.

“Good morning.” Aldrik sat next to her on top of the blankets. He leaned against pillows and the headboard. His far knee was bent, a board with papers on top of it. Vhalla noted the fingers of his right hand were already stained with ink; he must have been at it for a while.

“Good morning, my prince.” She smiled up at him. Vhalla remembered curling up with him on the chaises for a thousand kisses the night before, but she couldn’t seem to recall how they’d made it to the bed. However, it was a mountain of fluff that she could sink into; her clothes were still in place; and she didn’t recall taking anything that would have made her lose her head, so she wasn’t particularly worried about anything untoward.

Vhalla propped herself up on her elbows, rubbing her eyes. The curtains in the side room had been pulled back a tad and the beam of sunlight cutting through the air told her that it was sometime past dawn. “What time is it?”

Aldrik shifted. He only wore a cotton shirt—black this time—and black pants. Vhalla mused over how she had never seen him in anything less than long sleeves and long pants, save for the night with Elecia. He pulled a familiar silver watch from his pocket.

“Just after eight-thirty.” He clicked the watch closed and stashed it away.

“Just after eight-thirty and you’re up and working.
And
you’ve bathed.” She noted his hair was fixed. “Do you sleep?” The pillow muffled the end of her words as she fell back into it.

“Normally, not very much.” His quill scratched against the parchment.

“Normally?” she repeated, twisting her face to look at him from under the blankets.

“I slept well last night.”

“How did we make it to the bed?” she couldn’t help but ask.

“I brought you in when I noticed you’d passed out. I suppose my story on the Kingdom of Mhashan was
that
boring.” Aldrik glanced at her from the corners of his eyes.

Vhalla laughed guiltily.

“Elecia was right though,” he continued. “I couldn’t find one complaint with the chaises.”

Vhalla chewed that over for a second. “Wait,” she paused, “
you
slept on the couches?” Vhalla rolled onto her side to look up at him.

“Of course.” His brow furrowed slightly. “Did you think I would creep into your bed as you slept and spend the night lying with you without your permission?”

Vhalla stared at him. She had assumed falling asleep in his arms after kissing half the night away to be permission enough, but the chivalry in the statement was noted. However, any tenderness over the sentiment was quickly lost to laughter.

“What?” he asked, staring at her queerly.

“I kicked the crown prince out of his bed.” She rolled onto her back with laughter. “Oh, that is a story I wish I could share with someone.”

Aldrik grabbed the blankets and threw them over her face. “You’re annoying in the morning,” he said with a hint of amusement.

It sent Vhalla into a fit of giggles. “Oh I am sorry, mighty Aldrik.” She sat up, throwing the covers off her. “Am I a disturbance to your routine?” Vhalla put her hands on the bed between them and leaned over.

“Very much so,” he smirked.

“Fine, then I shall leave promptly.” Vhalla swung her feet off the bed.

She heard the rustle of his papers as he reached and grabbed her shoulders, pulling her onto his lap. He leaned over, and his lips were on hers. Vhalla sighed softly, she could get used to waking in this manner.

“I haven’t cleaned my mouth yet.” She quickly covered it with her hand as he pulled away.

“I know. It’s foul too. Washroom is there.” He grinned and pointed at an adjacent door.

Vhalla glared at him as she stood. She never knew a man who could be such an ass while still being so handsome. The moment the bathroom door closed, Vhalla suppressed another fit of giggles.

It was absolutely insane what was happening. It was absolutely insane how happy she was. Vhalla hummed as she ran her hand across the counter. It was a dark black marble, and the spigot was cast in gold. The tub was large enough for four people to sit comfortably, like a small pool carved from stone. There was an adjacent closet filled with more clothing than she knew he carried with him on the journey. The whole room was as opulent as the building itself, and Vhalla couldn’t believe that she had a place here.

There were a few bottles on the counter. She noticed one or two mostly empty clerical elixirs among them. Vhalla mused over which one he used for his hair, smelling a few that had the fresh scent of eucalyptus, as she located the one to cleanse her mouth with. Vhalla washed her face and ran her wet hands through her hair. It stayed back slightly from the dampness and she laughed.

“Look, I’m you.” Vhalla opened the door.

He glanced at her and then returned to his papers. “It looks awful,” he murmured.

“Now, now, don’t be mean to yourself,” she laughed lightly, sitting across from him on the end of the bed. “I think it’s striking on you.” Vhalla ran her fingers through her hair, teasing it back into its normal mess. Aldrik looked over his papers at her and said nothing, though she could have sworn there were the makings of a smile on his face.

“So what will you be doing today?” he asked.