Vhalla tried to focus on the board as Aldrik resumed his seat. But something felt different, and she was forced to pretend to not notice the princes’ glances. Whatever had just happened between them was a genuine moment that felt like both men were no longer interested in waging war, that they were one team. The last thing she wanted to do was break such a fragile, yet welcome, calm between them by pointing it out.
“You’re not even making this a challenge for me,” Vhalla teased, knocking out two of his warrior tokens with a sorcerer token.
“I don’t think a sorcerer should be allowed to play with their own tokens,” Baldair mumbled.
“Then you’d remove all the warriors from your side of the board?” Aldrik smirked.
“Oh right.” Baldair coughed. “You’d want-want—”
Baldair’s shoulders lurched as he leaned forward to make his move. Vhalla watched in horror at the moment that the prince’s eyes widened in surprise at the blood that she knew suddenly filled his throat. The crimson liquid spilled out, splattering across the board and the table.
“Brother!” Aldrik exclaimed, on his feet.
“Aldrik!” Vhalla snapped. “Don’t touch him!” Aldrik stopped mid-step, like an animal before the hunter’s bow. “The blood will get you sick far easier than breathing his air. Let me, I’ve had the fever before. Go get the clerics.”
She moved without thought. Vhalla grabbed the clerics’ rags, wiping Baldair, her hand around the prince’s shoulders, feeling the tremors that signified another cough. The younger prince shuddered and coughed into her waiting hand. The fabric was saturated and as she reached for another rag, Baldair coughed a crimson puddle into her lap.
“Aldrik.” Her rough voice snapped the elder prince back from his horror. “I can’t, I won’t leave him like this. Get the cleric you trust most who won’t say anything about my being here.” Vhalla took a deep breath through her nose, forcing herself to remain calm through the memories of being covered in her mother’s blood. “Now! Aldrik, now!”
The crown prince ran from the room, and Vhalla turned back to Baldair. She wiped his mouth, moving her clean hand from his back to his forehead. He was burning alive. “Sit back on your pillows.”
“Vhalla,” he wheezed.
“I know, it’s an awful taste, isn’t it?” She allowed him to slump into her. “Try stay upright, it comes up easier that way.”
“I-I’ve been worse . . .” Baldair gave her a foolish grin. It would’ve been more convincing if he didn’t have blood dribbling down his chin.
“Don’t talk, it’ll only aggravate the coughing.” Vhalla tried to sound brave as she took another attempt at cleaning his face. “I know being quiet is hard for you.”
The door to the outer room slammed open and shut again. Hasty footsteps made their way to the bedroom door, and a man with graying hair and bushy eyebrows darted into the room. He fearlessly set his clerical box down upon the table, sending the carcivi pieces scattering. Vhalla stood, giving him room to access Baldair.
“Excuse me, Lady Vhalla.” The man stepped around her. “Prince Aldrik, I will need you to fetch the full team.”
“With haste.” Aldrik’s voice was level, but his eyes betrayed his panic for his younger brother, who began coughing again.
Vhalla followed him out of Baldair’s room, dripping a trail of blood onto the pristine carpet. She took two steps for every one of Aldrik’s long strides and still fell behind.
“Wait for me here,” he whispered, ushering her into his room.
“Go help him,” Vhalla encouraged bravely.
“Wash, get the blood off you before it can infect you. Help yourself to whatever you may need.” Aldrik looked fearfully at the crimson stains on her lap and sides.
“I will. Now go.”
Aldrik needed no further prompting. He stepped back into the hallway, locking the door behind him.
Vhalla stepped back into the room and took a deep breath. Her inhale was weak. Her exhale quivered. She turned and sprinted for the bathroom. She had to wash it away.
She leaned over the side of the large, golden tub in Aldrik’s bathing room, turning on only the faucet for hot water. It came out steaming, and Vhalla nearly burned her hands in it. The blood fell in large droplets down onto the floor of the tub. Vhalla rung her hands even after they were clean.
Putting in the stopper, she stripped off her soiled clothing and tossed it into a corner of the marble-tiled room with a cry. The night air was icy on her bare skin as Vhalla plunged herself into the water, still shivering.
Her mother had been thinner, she had been weaker. They didn’t have the food or the medicine available to Baldair. He would be all right.
Not once, in all her racing thoughts, did she give note to the fact that she was naked in the crown prince’s chambers. All her contemplations circled around how hot Baldair’s forehead had felt, how much blood had come up. Vhalla began to scrub, going over her skin until it was raw, as if she could wash away the memories.
Aldrik still wasn’t back by the time her bathwater began to cool, and Vhalla emerged numb to the dull gray world. She pulled a drying cloth over her shoulders before she raided his dressing chambers. Many women would’ve been satisfied with just one of his oversized shirts as a dress, but Vhalla never felt comfortable without wearing some kind of trouser or legging.
Awkwardly dressed, she wandered listlessly to his bedroom. His bed was large enough for three people, and it was extraordinarily comfortable. In that moment, it could’ve been made of rocks and felt the same. Vhalla bundled herself beneath the blankets, shivering against the cold until she fell into a restless sleep.
Long fingers buried themselves in her hair, the bed shifting to accommodate a weight at her side. The scent of the blankets, the heat of the man next to her, the familiar tingle under his fingertips, it reminded her where she was and who was gently pulling her from sleep.
“Aldrik.” Vhalla sat, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms. The sound of coughing filled her ears and the smell of smoke, sweat, leather, and Aldrik on the sheets was replaced with the tangy metallic aroma of blood that still lingered in her nose. “How is Baldair?”
“The clerics say my annoying little brother is presently stable.”
There wasn’t any bite to Aldrik’s words. “They’ll be staying with him around the clock now. About time.”
Vhalla saw Aldrik’s mannerisms for what they were: a retreat. He was withdrawing into the temperamental indifferent front he’d always used to keep out the world, to hide his emotions. A deep sorrow settled into her chest for her fearful prince.
“I swear, Baldair just wants to make a show of this.” Aldrik shook his head. “Always, always the showman, that Baldair. He wants all the attention, as if he hasn’t had it. He just—he loves when—he loves when people are fawning over him.”
Aldrik’s words became weaker as he rambled on. Vhalla looked on in torment. It was a pain she knew so well, and yet she couldn’t do anything to lessen it. Saying nothing, she took both of Aldrik’s hands in hers.
“The clerics say he can still make it,” Aldrik finally added, after a short silence. “Elecia should be here soon, too.”
“Elecia?” Vhalla asked, surprised. Last she’d heard, Aldrik’s cousin wasn’t coming until spring.
“I called for her when Baldair fell ill. If she could heal me after the North, she’ll make quick work of Baldair and then complain to me for years for bringing her to the South during the winter. Between her and the clerics, he has to make it.” Aldrik allowed himself a tired, fragile smile.
“They don’t want me going in anymore. They say it’s too much of a risk now that it has progressed this far.”
“I’m sorry.”