Vhalla could feel her face betray her, listening to her heart over her head, as it mirrored his expression. He looked more himself than the previous day. His clothes were tailored and fitted, tucked in and buttoned up. His hair fixed.

“My lady.” He pushed away from the table he’d been leaning against and held out a hand.

“My prince.” She took his fingers as if by trance. Their terms of endearment rang sweetly in her mind.

Aldrik gripped her hand tightly, pulling her to him. Vhalla almost stumbled at the sudden movement, but the prince was quick to catch her, one hand on her hip, the other buried in her hair.

“Oh, Vhalla.” Her name was a low growl resonating up from his chest, which sent goosebumps over her arms. Aldrik pulled away, smirking at her flush. The arrogant royal knew exactly what he was doing to her. “I missed you.”

“Aldrik . . .” Her voice was almost pleading, though she wasn’t sure what she pleaded for.

“Come.” If Aldrik knew what she was begging him for, he wasn’t about to give it.

Aldrik led her boldly, hand in hand, down the Tower. One person seeing them together would be enough to set people to talking. Walking hand in hand? Vhalla had no idea what that would incite. She looked at each door that they passed, waiting for someone to catch them. Her fingers nervously closed tighter around his.

Baldair was coughing as they entered his room, and all the magic that filled her chest at the nearness of Aldrik vanished with each of his wheezes and gasps for air.

“How is he today?” she whispered.

“Saw Erion and Jax for a while, until the clerics removed them so he could rest. But that only made him inquire after you. So he must be feeling better.” Aldrik gave her a hopeful smile and affirmed the reason for his more jovial nature. Vhalla accepted the cloth he handed her for her nose and mouth. His fingers fell upon the fabric as she tied it to her face. “I’m certain he will come out of this.”

“I thought I heard—” Baldair coughed from the doorway of his bedroom. “Talking,” he finally finished, managing to slip out a breathless word.

The butterflies Aldrik’s happiness had been breeding in Vhalla’s stomach lost their wings as she saw the golden prince grabbing the doorframe for support. Coughs heaved his shoulders, and Baldair put a hand around his upper stomach where his ribs were. He winced in-between every relentless attack of the disease that plagued his body.

“Baldair.” Aldrik’s smile fleeted from his eyes. “You should not be out of bed.”

“Ah, you would like me to soil myself then, dear brother?” Baldair jested. “Perhaps I should, then insist you be the one to clean my sheets.”

“Don’t threaten the person who brings you company twice in one day,” Aldrik retorted. He walked over to his brother and held out his arms. “Let me help you back to the bed?”

“I can do it just fine on my own,” Baldair insisted.

Vhalla gave a faint smile at the princes’ stubborn kinship. Aldrik did not end up helping his brother to the bed, but he was there adjusting the younger prince’s pillows and helping with the covers as Baldair collapsed in a fit of coughing. The elder prince then crossed over to the side of the room.

“Vhalla, help me with this?”

She went to Aldrik’s aide, helping him maneuver a small table made at the perfect height to sit between the chair and the bed. It was perfect enough that Vhalla suspected, with a note of sorrow, that it had likely been commissioned during the prince’s illness. She sat herself in one of the waiting chairs, pulling up her feet.

“Is that any way for a lady to sit?” Aldrik teased.

“I am a lady, and I am sitting this way; therefore, yes.” Vhalla nodded her head to underscore her response.

“I can’t refute such sound logic.” He placed his hands on her shoulders, standing behind her chair.

“Oh, brother, I think the lady promised me a game of carcivi.” Baldair glanced at Aldrik, a slightly odd inflection padding his words. “Will you go get the nice marble one you use?”

“You have plenty of boards here.” Aldrik pushed off Vhalla’s shoulders lightly, starting for the door.

“But I like yours.” Baldair called between coughs as Aldrik shook his head, closing the door behind him.

Vhalla smiled faintly at the prince’s departure, turning back to Baldair. “How do you feel?”

“Oh, I’m managing.” Baldair gave her a weak smile. “It’s nice to have visitors other than Aldrik. Not that his company isn’t a bundle of sunshine.”

“He’s not so bad, and you know it.”

“Small doses,” Baldair wheezed.

“He said you had Erion and Jax here today?”

“I did. Seems as though they are doing a good job of managing the guard.” Baldair settled into his pillows. “They said you were joining them as well.”

“I’ve tried to lend a hand,” Vhalla affirmed.

“I appreciate it, really I do.” The prince paused for a long moment. “Do you want to join the guard, Vhalla?”

She considered it. “I don’t think I’d say no. Erion, Jax, Daniel, Craig, even Raylynn, they all feel like family already.”

“But?” He picked up on her pause.

“But . . .” Vhalla didn’t know where her hesitation stemmed from. A sense of direction was pulling at her, telling her that the Golden Guard was not what she was meant to be.