Aldrik stared at her in surprise before pulling his eyes away with a touch of shame. Vhalla hadn’t intended to make him feel guilty for his role in the events that had put her in a position to experience war. Reaching out, she took his hand gently in hers, trying to soothe the tension.
“I know you,” she whispered. “I know you well enough to know you think I’m right.”
“Were things not as they are, yes, yes, your theory holds merit.” Aldrik sighed heavily. His hands held her face, underscoring the tenderness. “But there are so many forces at play here. And, sometimes, the safer course is the best one. Let us do this one thing right.”
“One thing?” She didn’t understand.
“I-I took you to bed for the first time on sweat-stained sheets in a war camp. I took you because I promised myself that I would make you mine properly one day.”
“I had not thought poorly of our first time together.” Vhalla stepped away, pulling her face from his palms.
“Then I shamed my love for you by allowing myself to be engaged to another. By allowing that engagement to push you away.”
“You saved my life with that engagement.” Vhalla wondered if he had somehow forgotten the sword at her throat when his hand was forced to sign that fateful paper. “And I acted harshly towards you that night as well. It’s forgiven and forgotten.”
“I let my family and those beneath me witness my stealing you away when Bal—” his voice cracked. He cleared his throat to continue, “—when Baldair died. I let you become the other woman, the prince’s whore.”
“There was hardly enough time for anyone to know with all that happened after,” Vhalla contested. “Any who would remember are friends or will long forget when your throne is restored.”
“I asked you to remain mine when I had no future for you, and I vowed to do things right.” He reached for her hands, holding them tightly. “I have yet to live up to that vow.”
“Aldrik, you have not wronged me.” She tried to smile encouragingly.
“Then, the baby.”
She bristled at the words. A chill ran up Vhalla’s spine, triggering uneasiness in her mind. It was like magic across her flesh, reminding her of what happened, of the murky night that was being lost to time—that she wanted to lose to time.
“I know it was the Mother giving us a chance to do things right. To not harbor a child in secret or rush a marriage to make it a legitimate heir.”
“Our marriage was already rushed.” Ice water ran through her veins. “It was not the Mother who lost our child, it was—”
“Hush. Please, Vhalla, just listen to me.” He squeezed her fingers encouragingly. “I want to see you as my bride and do this one thing right. I want this wedding.”
“Aldrik, this wedding is nothing more than a formality of something that already lives between us.” Vhalla sighed in frustration. “It doesn’t matter when and how we marry; we know our bond.”
“It matters to everyone else.”
“I am not marrying everyone else!” Her patience cracked. “I am marrying you, and your thoughts and my thoughts are the only thoughts that matter on the subject. I am not going to put my own wedding before the lives of our people. How can I look at them when there are innocent people dying, and I am keeping soldiers from saving them so that I may say some vows?”
“I will not have them whisper rumors of you as they did of my mother.” Aldrik pulled away and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “I will not have them speak more poorly of this than they already do.”
“Speak poorly of this?” she repeated.
“Enough.”
“No.” Vhalla rounded him as he tried to avoid her stare. “What do you mean, ‘Speak poorly of this’?”
“It does not matter.”
“It does,” her voice rose a small fraction with her insistence.
“Fine.” Aldrik scowled. “Fine, you infuriating woman. You want to know of every uncertainty presented by the Western lords and ladies to me or my uncle? How you are too thin, too wild, too risky, to be trusted with carrying an heir? How you have won yourself above your station by giving the lonely prince what is between your legs? How you are too young, too soft, too inexperienced to lead? How I should have taken a Western bride, or even kept the Northern one, to strengthen ties and support my armies? How I am a fool’s Emperor for taking a no-named commoner as my bride? How you are only with me for power and gold?”
Vhalla stared at him in shock. She’d been kept completely unaware. That burned more within her than the shame and embarrassment of the accusations.
“Were you going to tell me?” she whispered.
“Vhalla—”
“Were you going to tell me?” The dam broke within her. “Or were you just planning on keeping me in the dark? Were you going to prove them right, that I am too soft for the truth, that I am ignorant and unfit to be your Empress? Because not even you trust me with what is said!”
“Vhalla, you prove them wrong just by being you. I did not want you to worry and change.” Aldrik’s voice already sought her forgiveness. Forgiveness she didn’t want to give.
“Were you going to tell me?”
“I don’t know.” He withdrew.
“Fine.” Vhalla glared. “Since you clearly have such a handle on managing what I can and cannot hear or think, see or do, then you can just manage your wedding and your war as you want.”
“Vhalla! Vhalla!” he called when she was halfway for the door.
“But if we wait on this wedding, you can make my dress crimson. I will not wear gold if my Imperial nobility is bought with the blood of innocent civilians who died while I had a party.” Vhalla glared back at him once more. She never heard if he said anything else because she slammed the door on his attempt at further words.
Vhalla stormed up the castle alone.
CHAPTER 21
Her chambers in the Western castle were opulent. Low platform beds covered with expertly woven silks complemented endless polished floors that picked up the shine of gemstones and silver embedded into the ceiling. Warm, summer-like breezes flooded the room through open windows, blocked only by chiffon curtains and tall pillars.
It was an exercise in excess by the original architect and decorator. A decadence that Vhalla should have every right to appreciate, an experience that she could never otherwise have.
But now it felt cold.
She hadn’t been spending her days in these chambers; hiding there now only served as a reminder of the harsh words she’d spoken to Aldrik. She’d actually retreated here because she knew it was the one place that he would not come. The lord’s and lady’s quarters were across the hall from each other, and while Vhalla heard his door open and close, he made no effort to seek her out.
Not that she blamed him. Or perhaps she did. The man did an excellent job at making her feel so justified one minute, only to have her feel wildly conflicted the next.
After pacing ruts into the floor, Vhalla decided that lingering wasn’t going to solve anything. She undressed quickly, rummaging through the virtual mountains of clothes to find something simple. Riding leggings that were no doubt intended to be worn underneath a skirt were paired with an oversized shirt that Vhalla fashioned as a tunic. It was certain to horrify the staff and Western nobility. But apparently her existence was already offensive, so she might as well be comfortably offensive.
On the way down to the training grounds, Vhalla walked on air, fluttered pennons, and played with the wind. She delighted in everything that she had taken for granted in the years prior to losing her magic. Things that she would never let be taken from her again.