Vhalla’s heart raced, and she felt a soft whimper rise in her throat. She wanted him to say something, anything. If he would pass judgment she could leave and finally move on from all he was. She could leave his ink black hair and dark eyes behind. She could let his voice fade away from her dreams and let his form no longer haunt her in the daylight.

Aldrik’s mouth closed. He swallowed hard.

Vhalla couldn’t tolerate the silence any longer, and she grabbed for the door handle as though it was her only lifeline. She would walk away now, and let it all stay broken.

The prince had other plans, and he grabbed for her.

“Aldrik wh—” She half turned, and he spun her the rest of the way.

His hands released her arms and cupped her cheeks in a single fluid motion. Vhalla had only a half a second to register his face closing in on hers. She inhaled sharply at the shock of feeling his lips on her own. His scent, his breathing, the warmth of his palms, the feeling of his mouth, all assaulted her senses and Vhalla closed her eyes, leaning into the kiss.

VHALLA SIGHED SOFTLY, her mouth still gloriously occupied with his. Something audibly clicked back into place, and suddenly her head silenced the noise of the past few months. His palms were hot on her cheeks, and they stayed the tears that had so insistently found their way out seconds before. She felt him pull away slightly, but Vhalla pressed forward, stealing one more moment of his lips. Her eyes opened and met his. Despite being the initiator of the kiss, he looked as bewildered as she.

Still holding her face, Aldrik sighed softly and leaned forward to press his forehead against hers, their noses barely touching. “Say it again ...”

Vhalla closed her eyes. “I love you, Aldrik.” Saying it out loud, to him, sent sparks up her chest.

He pulled her face back to his, claiming her mouth again fiercely. Vhalla’s hands found their own life, meeting his fervor. They pressed against his chest, her palms running up to his shoulders. Vhalla buried her fingers in his hair at the nape of his neck, itching to unravel his pristine visage. Her nails ran against his scalp, and his hands dropped from her face to her waist.

Aldrik pulled her closer and her arms bent. She felt her hips meet his, and her chest brush against the warm length of his body. Vhalla shivered—and he held her tighter. She broke the kiss for a moment, taking a shaky breath. Just as she opened her eyes, his mouth was on hers again and he annihilated her every thought with just his taste and touch.

The time that passed between them wasn’t nearly enough before she felt his neck push against her fingers and his lips pull away from hers. Vhalla resigned as gracefully as possible, barely restraining herself from clutching him and holding his mouth to hers forever.

Aldrik stared down in bewildered adoration; she’d never seen a flush to his cheeks before, but now it was a soft rosy color that looked almost healthy on the natural pallor of his skin. His lips parted and he breathed heavily. A hand shifted from her waist back to her face, and he stroked her cheek with his fingertips.

“Aldrik,” she whispered, her lips aflame. She still felt inebriated on his nearness; however, without the immediate distraction of his mouth, confusion began to slip back into her brain. “What about Elecia?” she whispered—just the name made the happy bubbles in her stomach settle.

“Come,” Aldrik said, taking her hands in his as he led her back to the couch. This time she sat next to him. “Who do you think Elecia is?”

“I don’t know.” Vhalla didn’t want to play guessing games, and her theories on Elecia ran as long as the Great Imperial Way. Thankfully, Aldrik didn’t drag her along.

“Elecia is my cousin.”

“What?” Vhalla asked on a quick inhale of air.

A knowing grin curled up the corners of his mouth at her obvious shock. “My mother, as I’m sure you know, was a Western princess. When the West was overthrown, her father was removed from his throne as king. But in an effort for a peaceful transition, his eldest son—my Uncle Ophain—was appointed as the Lord of the West. My uncle had a son who later married a Northern woman and had a daughter.”

“Elecia?” Vhalla whispered, wide-eyed, mentally following along. It explained everything about the woman. Her appearance, her demeanor, her protectiveness of Aldrik, Vhalla understood it all.

Aldrik nodded. “She was born when I was seven. We made a trip back to the West not long after but she was only a toddler. I didn’t know her well until we were adults,” he continued.

There was a ringing in Vhalla’s ears and relief tingled across her skin. Elecia wasn’t a lover. She wasn’t his betrothed. She was his family.

“I thought you already knew.”

“How would I have known?” Vhalla asked, a touch exasperated. She read a lot of books but it wasn’t as though she specifically studied lineages and would just happen to recall that bit of information.

“We have the same name,” Aldrik said, matter-of-factly.

“What?” Vhalla regarded him as though he was crazy.

“Ci’Dan, my mother’s family name.”

The mysterious “C” finally had an explanation.

“Aldrik Ci’Dan Solaris,” Vhalla whispered. “Then, what was she doing in your room—at night?” Vhalla refrained from commenting on their extremely casual state of dress.

“Ah, that.” Aldrik glanced away. “I didn’t say anything before because I was worried it wouldn’t work.”

“What?” Vhalla asked, wondering what other obvious thing she could have missed.

“Elecia is a Groundbreaker. She’s talented in a great many things, but healing is something she has a natural gift for. She reads bodies like books.” Aldrik smiled and stood. “Vhalla, look at me.” She pursed her lips together, seeing nothing. “With magic sight.”

Vhalla shifted her vision and saw a sight unlike any she’d seen before. His body was swathed in a golden-white flame, so brilliant that his skin glowed faintly. She’d never seen him so bright. It was then she realized the reason. The dark spot at his side was gone.

Vhalla was on her feet, reaching out and placing her hand on his hip. She shifted back her vision and looked up at his face. Aldrik continued to smile through Vhalla’s surprise.

“Y-you’re cured?” she asked tentatively.

“I am,” he beamed. “It was a process, though; it took almost two days of her work and mine. She was here around the clock.”

Vhalla breathed slowly. She had never seen the prince smile so much. Laughter bubbled up from her stomach and escaped with a joyous melody. As long as she had known him he had been suffering from this wound. It was literally a dark spot on him for months. Now he was free.

“I wish I could’ve helped,” she said softly.

“I didn’t want to tax you,” he replied, timidly running his fingers over her cheek. They left a flush in their wake. “Especially not after the sandstorm.”

“Next time, at least tell me,” she said sternly.

“I promise,” Aldrik vowed.

“I thought ...” Vhalla shook her head with a small laugh. “I thought you were with her,” she confessed, looking away.

“I thought everything was obvious to you,” he said softly, astounded at her confusion. “Not just about Elecia, but—” Aldrik ran a hand across his hair, noticing the mess she’d made in the back earlier with a small smile, “—with everything. I was certain that, with how I acted toward only you, you knew.”