Water's Wrath (Air Awakens Series Book 4) (26 page)

More coughing accompanied her steps toward the bedroom. Aldrik sat at the bedside looking rather determined with a spoon in one hand and a bowl in the other. Baldair wore a stubborn glare. She rolled her eyes at the scene before her.

“I told him he needs to eat.” Aldrik glanced at her. She saw a glint of amusement in his eyes at the familiar sight of her trying to tame her morning hair. “Vhalla, your mask.”

“Your brother is right, Baldair.” Vhalla yawned and pulled the fabric from around her neck to her nose and mouth. “You told me you’d eat everything.”

“Vhalla?” Baldair’s shoulders lurched as he continued to cough. “I don’t recall giving you permission to sleep in my room.”

“She stayed on order of the crown prince,” Aldrik proclaimed with mock haughtiness. “You said it yourself, you have a new cleric.” His dark eyes flicked back to her, and Vhalla shook her head in amusement.

“Don’t tell me.” Shades of a healthy Baldair returned as he wheezed for breath. “You two did the do on my couch.”

Aldrik visibly paled, Baldair smirked, and Vhalla’s laughter rang out throughout the room.

“If by ‘the do,’ you mean slept. Yes, we did.” Baldair blinked at her as she crossed to her place at the edge of his bed. “And before you get any ideas or form any assumptions, it was not at the same time.”

Vhalla grabbed a roll of bread off the table—Aldrik had continued to make safe choices with food. She tore off a hunk and, as Baldair opened his mouth for some retort, she unceremoniously shoved in the mass of food. Baldair looked at her in shock as he was forced to chew through the soft piece of bread.

“Now eat, oh golden prince.” She grinned.

“Don’t—” Baldair chewed. “Don’t think that when I’m well—” He coughed again. “—I won’t get you back for these indiscretions against the crown.”

“Take it up with the crown prince.” She tore off another piece and forced it into the younger prince’s mouth with a satisfied grin at his frustration. “I hear he has a wicked temper.”

“Oh, I am certain there could be a fitting punishment administered.” Aldrik crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in the chair, content to let her assume the duty of feeding his brother.

Vhalla glanced at him from the corners of her eyes, a sly smile hidden by the mask at the coy nature of the crown prince in a good mood.

“Getting sick will be the death of me,” Baldair cleared his throat.

“Don’t say that,” she insisted gently.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic.” The prince coughed, barely managing to keep the food down. “I only meant it in that my being sick has clearly reunited you both, and that is a fact that may be detrimental to my health for many years to come. And I don’t need to be fed like some invalid.”

Baldair rolled his eyes and snatched the bowl and spoon from her hands. He coughed and sputtered, spilling some. Vhalla stood to clean it up, and Aldrik did the same. He passed her a cloth rag from the table next to Baldair’s bed for his coughing. Their fingers touched briefly. Vhalla looked up at the dark haired prince, their eyes met, and her heart did a strange beat.

Saying nothing, she turned and cleaned up the small spill, ignoring the embarrassment of an apologetic Baldair. She smiled tiredly at the younger prince.
Nothing could possibly happen to Baldair
, she mentally insisted. He was too well cared for and too strong.

“You should go, Vhalla.”

“So soon?” Baldair objected like a child. “Can’t we just say I invited her?”

“Brother, it’s for the best. Her presence would raise too many questions.” Aldrik glanced at her. “I don’t want us to make her life difficult.”

Vhalla knew it was for the best, but at the same time, she was done hiding what she wanted. She simply had to figure out her next move alongside Aldrik. A similar turmoil was written on the prince’s face, and Vhalla knew there would be words over what their future would hold sooner rather than later.

“Tonight?” she proposed. “Could I come back after the clerics have left?”

“That’s—” Baldair digressed into coughing that cut all words short. He was forced to simply nod.

“Tonight then,” Aldrik agreed.

“Perhaps we could play carcivi.” She was certain the prince could have a dozen carcivi boards crafted and delivered before the day was out if he didn’t already have one. “Something to stimulate your mind a bit.”

“It’s better than Aldrik’s suggestions of books.”

Vhalla laughed. “Well then, carcivi it is. I’ll be back to beat you wickedly, so eat your food, drink your potions, and get rest. I don’t want to let you have the excuse of illness for your loss.”

“Ha! We will see who beats who!”

“We should go.” Aldrik’s palm fell on the small of her back. “Before the clerics come.”

“See you, Baldair.” Vhalla gave him a small wave as Aldrik closed the door behind them. She crossed over to the bar that had been turned into a medical supply stand and removed her mask completely. “He seems better.”

“He usually is after company,” Aldrik agreed.

“The Golden Guard?” she guessed and Aldrik affirmed. “You should send for them, then. I think they are quite worried.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Aldrik mumbled.

Vhalla beamed brightly, for in Aldrik language, that meant he was about to throw around the weight of the scary crown prince on his brother’s behalf.

“Wait a moment.”

Holding up his hand, he cracked open the door and took a glance down the hallway. Aldrik opened the door halfway, gliding across to his own room. He fit a key into the lock and unlocked it with a soft click. One more glance, and he was motioning for her to join him. Vhalla eased closed Baldair’s door and slipped into the safety of Aldrik’s haven as he shut out the world.

In the daytime, she could appreciate the stunning nature of his quarters. Vhalla looked up, and she lost all breath. A staircase wound up the far wall to a landing that looped around the circular room. There were more staircases and ladders leading up to additional landings and levels of books. She looked up into the roof area of one of the golden spires she had admired from below so many times, only to discover that it held Aldrik’s personal library.

“Aldrik,” she breathed, walking into the room. The white marble floor was covered with a large, circular black rug that almost took up the whole space. There were two leather chaises near a couch that was reminiscent of the Crossroads and a desk with chairs to the right side. “This is
yours
?”

“It is.” His expression was unreadable.

“It’s—” she fumbled for words. Vhalla felt dizzy at the notion. Aldrik took a step forward to stand at her shoulder, holding his breath for her review. “Amazing.”

“Would you like to see the rest of it?” he asked softly.

“The rest of it?” Vhalla blinked up at him.

Three doors lead out from his initial sitting room. One he had led her through the night before—his bedroom. The second went into a smaller, cozy office. Vhalla realized the large, dark stained desk in the main room was just for show as she could immediately tell that this office was reserved for his real work. Papers littered the surface in an order only he understood. There was a smaller bookshelf that contained stacks of titles he’d squirreled away for immediate reference.

Vhalla paused. Tentatively, her fingers reached up to a stack of books that rested to the side of the middle shelf. She took one off the top of the stack. Aldrik said nothing as she opened it. Vhalla looked down at handwriting she knew very well.

Earthen magic tends to have deep roots.

The magic can take days or months to remove.

Remove carefully, please, or shock.

Please live. Earthen, magic, can,

create, please live, sensitivity to cold,

please live - or hot - please live, plaese lvei plselav pl-

Her writing had started neat and tidy but digressed into scribbles. She placed the book down and grabbed the next one. Her note from long ago, when she was doing research on that fateful rainy night, fell out. Vhalla leaned down and picked it up off the floor. It was much the same, though her writing was even messier. She returned it and grabbed the third book. Her note wasn’t even legible.

Vhalla looked back at Aldrik, speechless. He had told her what had happened that night. But to see the actual vessels themselves, the ones that carried her magic to him and formed their Bond, brought a whole sense of world-shaking reality that she had not experienced before.

“I wanted to keep them.” He gently took the book from her hands and returned it with care to the shelf. He considered the stack of books that saved his life. “They are very precious to me.”

“I still have all your notes,” Vhalla confessed. “They’re in my wardrobe.”

“I assumed you would have thrown them away.” Vhalla saw through the thin veil of indifference he threw over the words.

“I thought about it,” she admitted. “But I couldn’t. They, too, are very precious to me.”

“Yours are in the bottom drawer of my desk.” Aldrik shared a smile. “I look at them from time to time to remind myself of how foolish you were.”

“Oh?” Vhalla laughed in relaxed amusement. “Perhaps I should look at yours to remind myself of how much of an ass you are.”

“As if you need a reminder,” he snorted. It sent her into a fit of laughter.

Vhalla walked around the room, her amusement fading into a bright smile. He did not stop her, and he did not deny her access to anything. The most private man in the world allowed her to lift papers, open drawers, nose through books and more. Vhalla shifted aside the numbers of the Imperial coffers to look at some reports from ministers. He leaned against the bookshelf as she shuffled through them.

“The Minister of Coin didn’t agree to half of the funding for the Festival of the Sun this year?” She blinked at Aldrik. She had no idea, missing it during her time away. “Why?”

“He’s trying to rein in the spending,” Aldrik explained. “We have a lot of soldiers still on retainer. After my demand of spending at least half of the spoils from war on rebuilding the North, we didn’t come back with as much.”

Vhalla stared at him, her mouth halfway open.
Her words
, those had been her words when she demanded of him to help the North. “Why are you helping them still?”

“You know why.” The words were gentle, thoughtful.

“They’re conspiring to kill your father,” Vhalla reminded him.

“Hardly surprising. And I have no doubt that half the North would do the same if given the chance.” Aldrik looked over the papers and pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment to collect his thoughts. “But the people of the North didn’t start that war, and I cannot blame them for hating the man who did; just as I cannot and will not punish them for it.”

Admiration swelled her chest, competing in space with pride for her prince. He was making hard decisions and fighting for peace at the same time. Some would call him foolish for it, but she chose to describe it as noble. Vhalla put the papers back in order, averting her eyes. “I suppose I can see the Minister of Coin’s concerns, then.”

“Shall we move on?”

He led her back into the main room and through to another room. It opened into a smaller space that was clearly more lived in than the first. It was a room designed for casual entertaining, but Vhalla couldn’t imagine Aldrik taking many visitors. Her eyes fell on a bar that stood barren.

“I haven’t touched it in months,” he admitted as shame deepened the prince’s voice. “I couldn’t. I promised you I wouldn’t and then . . .”

Vhalla watched the prince struggle to continue, neither stopping nor encouraging.

“Then I decided I wouldn’t let it have the better of me. I couldn’t stop quitting.”

She took a half step into his personal space, tilting her head to catch the prince’s gaze where it had fallen on a corner of the room. The lump in his neck bobbed as he swallowed hard, awaiting her judgment.

“I’m proud of you,” Vhalla whispered. “I know your struggles.”

“Better than anyone.”

Vhalla stepped away, avoiding becoming too engulfed by his essence. Her eyes scanned the rest of the room, darting over a carcivi board, across another bookshelf, and to the hearth. Around the crackling flame was a low area built into the floor with pillows and a low table in the style she had come to associate with the traditional West. Papers littered this table as well, a looser script across them. Vhalla instinctively walked over, curious.

“Not those,” he said suddenly. She stopped, surprised. He had let her nib through the Empire’s secrets,
but would not let her see what was on those papers
.

“Aldrik,
secrets
,” she reminded him, unconcerned if it was or wasn’t her place anymore.

“Not yet.” His expression softened a fraction. “I’m working through it. I’ll tell you when I’ve written them all.”

“Them all?” Vhalla repeated.

“Yes, my parrot.” The term now brought a smile to her lips. Something dawned on him, and Aldrik suddenly sported a wide grin. “Come, I wish to see something.”

Aldrik led her through yet another door that emptied into a throughway with his bedroom on one end and had a third door into his bathing room—which was as large as a small house—and his closet.
No, closet was a loose term
. It was an open space with racks of clothes and glass cabinets as big as people—cabinets that displayed gems, jewels, and fine trimmings of the crown prince.

Vhalla ran her fingers along the glass. The jewels weren’t tempting in the slightest. They were cold and meaningless.

“Aldrik.”

He hummed in reply, fumbling through a cabinet.

“When your father made me a lady, the gold . . .”

The prince paused, staring at her for a long moment, trying to read her expression. “I told you in the North, I wanted to shower you with the trappings the world had so woefully denied my giving you before.”

“I thought it may be something like that.” Vhalla laughed softly, turning back to the gems.

“Do you see something you like?” Aldrik asked over her shoulder.

“Not really.” There were women who would die to be in her position. Vhalla knew she could point at any of the shining jewels, and Aldrik would give it to her without a thought.