“How have you not seen it yet that I am not worthy of you?” He grasped her hand, pressing his lips against her fingertips.

“How have you not seen it that you are and more?” Vhalla retorted.

He gave a huff of amusement and squeezed her hand tightly. “I love you, Vhalla Yarl.”

“How fortunate for me.” She yawned. “For I love you as well, my crown prince.”

His breath ruffled her hair slightly as Vhalla pressed closer to the prince, and he filled her senses as she drifted to sleep.

SHE STARED AT the face of a man who was painfully, horribly familiar, and yet was completely different. Egmun wore his hair cropped short to his head, though the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes were smoother, the lines around his mouth lighter, and he wore a hint of stubble across his chin. The sight of the younger senator sent Vhalla into a rage-filled dread, the emotion conflicted with what her dream-self was feeling, a sense of calm trust.

Vhalla fought against the vision, struggling to escape, to push Egmun away. She pulled and pried and twisted mentally until something fractured at her raw panic. She stood outside of the body she previously occupied, what should be her body in any other dream.

Aldrik looked like he could be no older than fifteen. His hair was longer, down to his shoulders and tied back at the neck. Messy bangs framed his face, and Vhalla looked on with a strange mixture of love and fear for the wide-eyed boy alone in this dark place with a man she hated more than anyone or anything else.

The room was filled with a haze that mingled ominously with the darkness, making only certain details easily distinguishable. There was a single flame flickering in the cavernous space, and wherever it was, neither the ceiling nor walls were visible by the light. The floor was stone, inlaid with what seemed to be shards of shimmering glass. She tried to get a closer look but a fog covered them every time she tried to focus. There were old looking markings carved beneath their feet, spiraling toward the center where a man was kneeling, bound and blindfolded. He shivered and shook. The fabric covering his eyes was wet with tears.

“Prince Aldrik.” Egmun took a step forward. He wore a formal black coat and dark trousers; there was no sign of his Senatorial chain. “Someday, you will be Emperor. Do you know what that means?”

“I-I do.”

Vhalla turned to the stuttering child.

“So you know that justice will fall to you.” Egmun took another step forward, and Vhalla’s heart began to race, feeling hopelessly trapped. She didn’t want to be here, she didn’t want to see this. “It was your mother’s last request for your father to spare you these duties as long as possible.”

“My mother’s?” Vhalla saw a sad flash of hope in the boy’s eyes at the mention of the mother he never knew.

“But you will soon be a man, won’t you?” Egmun asked softly.

“I will.” The boy prince took a deep breath, as if to grow into all his height in one moment.

“It is rather unfair, no? For your father to be treating you like a child?” Vhalla watched the man grin, and she knew this Aldrik had not yet perfected his powers of perception and manipulation. If she could see Egmun for what he was in that moment, she had no doubt the adult Aldrik would as well. “Are you prepared to be the crown prince this realm needs?”

“I am,” Aldrik repeated through obvious doubt. Even though the space was cold, sweat dotted his brow.

“Then, my prince, for justice, for the strength of Solaris, for the future of your Empire, slay this man.” Egmun dropped dramatically to a knee. He pulled at the rope which attached a short sword to his belt and held out the blade expectantly.

Vhalla wasn’t sure if it was her heart that was racing or if it was the young Aldrik’s.

“But ...”

“This man has stolen from your family; it is a treasonous crime. He is not an innocent,” Egmun assured.

“Should my father not—”

“I thought you were a man and a prince. I did not take you as someone who shied from justice or power, Prince Aldrik.” Egmun seemed to stretch his arms to hold out the sword further. “Why are you here?”

“For my father, to conquer the North,” Aldrik said uncertainly. The war on the North had only started four years ago. Aldrik should be twenty, not a child.

“With this, all will bend to you.” Egmun smiled encouragingly, and Vhalla was reminded of a serpent. Aldrik took the sword hesitantly.

No, she whispered mentally. She was, of course, helpless and unheard. Aldrik turned to the kneeling man.

“M-my prince, m-mercy please. T-take my hand for m-my theft. Spare m-me.” Vhalla heard the rough voice of the man through his tears. Aldrik looked back to Egmun.

“Minister ...” he said weakly.

“The guilty will say anything to you, my prince, to save their skin. This, too, is a lesson.” Egmun returned to his feet, he seemed to be holding his breath.

Aldrik unsheathed the sword, passing the scabbard back into Egmun’s eager palms. The blade shimmered as though it gave off its own light.

Egmun, stop. Vhalla shouted.

“M-mercy,” the man begged. Aldrik stared at Egmun hopelessly.

“Kill him, Aldrik.”

Vhalla gaped in shock at the sudden harshness in Egmun’s tone. His patience had finally run thin. Aldrik didn’t seem to notice. She only had a moment to contemplate what, exactly, had the senator so eager before Vhalla saw the boy set his jaw in grim determination.

No. She felt Aldrik’s terror, his uncertainty, his youthful hopefulness, the ever encroaching end of his innocence, and she felt herself at the point of weeping.

Aldrik raised the blade. It hovered, just a moment above his head. The young prince stared at the helpless man before him, the life she knew was about to be cut short. Vhalla saw the flash of the firelight on the surface of the sword as he brought it down clumsily onto the man’s head.

No, she repeated as she saw the man shudder violently at Aldrik’s weak and clumsy swing. Aldrik raised the sword again.

No! Vhalla cried as he brought down the sword again, blood splattering across his perfect, youthful face. Aldrik raised the sword again.

“No!” Vhalla shouted, lunging forward at a figure that disappeared with the opening of her eyes.

An arm wrapped itself across her shoulders, holding her tightly to a man’s chest. A hand clamped over her mouth firmly. Her mind was in a daze and she cried out again, muffled by the fingers covering her lips. She twisted and kicked to free herself from the person’s clutches, instantly thinking of Egmun, her cheeks wet with tears.

“Vhalla.” A voice that was made of midnight itself soothed from behind her. It broke through the chaos in her head. “Vhalla, stop. It’s all right. It’s me.”

She gave a small whimper of relief and took a breath through her nose. Then another, until Aldrik finally removed his hand from her mouth, assured she would not alert the whole world to her presence in his bed. In her sleep she had rolled onto her side and Aldrik had curled behind her. Vhalla rolled to face him.

“Aldrik,” she said weakly. Vhalla scanned his face. After seeing his younger self, he suddenly appeared every year of his age and too many more. She choked down a small cry of relief to see his cheeks free of blood. “Aldrik,” Vhalla whimpered before using his chest as a shield from the world.