“I’m fine, my head just hurts today.” She rubbed her temples again.

“I’m worried for you,” Mohned added thoughtfully, a palm on her back.

“Thank you, but there’s nothing to worry about.” Vhalla gave the master a tired smile. She looked away before emotion could get the better of her. She wished she could talk to him, but the master wouldn’t understand either. The name in the Tower book likely was a different Mohned Topperen, Vhalla told herself.

The master led her down to the same location as yesterday, pulling open a few curtains along the way. When she was settled, he instructed her to return to the main library should she feel worse. Vhalla nodded wearily and set to her work, trying to convey—with as much politeness as possible—that she had no interest in speaking. Mohned seemed to take no offense and departed with the quiet shuffle of his feet.

Vhalla tried to focus on the task at hand, but she found it hard to focus on anything. Every time she opened her eyes, the world was blurry—like two things were overtop of one another. Eventually she simply put her head on the table and tried to let the silence cure her brain.

The soft clanks of footsteps down the staircase were like knives to her ailing consciousness. Vhalla opened her eyes, but she didn’t even lift her head to see who it was. Aldrik’s walk was different, and it would’ve hurt less, somehow.

“Sareem, go away.” Her voice was low.

“Vhalla, we need to talk,” he started gingerly.

“Go. Away,” she repeated, her patience thin.

“No.” His was determined.

She looked up at him, trying to get her eyes to cooperate with her. He stood halfway in the room, clearly unsure if he was making the right decision. Vhalla had the pleasure of letting him know he was not.

“What do you want?” she snapped, putting her forehead back on the table.

“Are you all right?” he asked, taking a few steps closer.

“I’m fine. My head just hurts. What do you want?” Her sentences were clipped with annoyance.

“About yesterday, Vhalla...” he started.

“Did you tell the master?” she interrupted.

“What? No, I promised you I wouldn’t.” Vhalla looked up at him again through squinted eyes. “I didn’t, Vhalla,” Sareem insisted and sat with a sigh.

Vhalla put her head back on the table, closing her eyes. “So, what do you want?” she repeated.

“About yesterday...” He scratched the back of his neck. “You see, you kind of caught me off-guard.” He gave an uneasy chuckle, and Vhalla wanted to choke whatever he had to say out of him. “I think—”

A horn rang out from somewhere in the distance. Its call was echoed by one closer. Soon every trumpeter in the palace was heralding the rallying call.

“What?” Vhalla picked up her head off the table. “What is—”

“Horns, Vhalla! Horns playing like that, you know what it means.” He was on his feet, already cleaning up her book and supplies without thought. “Come on, we have to go.” Sareem was practically picking up her limp body from the chair, and Vhalla felt too groggy to fight.

They made haste through the library. Vhalla squinted, the world was moving by so fast that it unsettled her stomach, and she was forced to rely on Sareem. At least if she was sick she could aim for his feet.

Her eyes didn’t know what to focus on. Everything came to a sudden halt as they stood before the circulation desk. The master was talking, and Vhalla struggled to listen. Mohned handed Sareem something, sending the young man running back in the direction they had just come from.

“—will catch up with us. We should start making our way to the Sunlit Stage.”

The master and Roan started toward the castle door. Vhalla followed behind them, and Sareem soon joined in tow as they left the library proper. He noticed she was not stable on her feet and linked an arm with her. Vhalla was forced to depend on his support again as they joined the masses moving quickly through the palace.

The Sunlit Stage was the official entry to the palace. While the stables’ entry was more practical, the Sunlit Stage held large-scale ceremonies before the public. It was a semi-circular area where the capital’s residents could enter through many golden archways in the outer wall. Giant stands extended up from the wall that were supposed to be reminiscent of the sun’s rays. Dignitaries, nobles, and members of the Court sat there, all facing the palace.

White marble steps led up to a large platform with columns set at wide intervals. Behind this stage were golden doors leading into the palace; they were equally large and ceremonial. Four or five horses could ride abreast though them without a problem. Higher on the wall was a balcony, which the Emperor had used once or twice to make short announcements or decrees to his people. Today, soldiers in polished armor and helmets fitted with large golden plumes lined either side of the stage.

Cadance and Lidia joined Vhalla and her escorts along the way, and the whole library personnel positioned themselves upon the outer wall with most of the other castle staff. With a loud groan, the stage doors opened and two people walked out to the edge of the top step.

The Empress was a short woman with long flowing blonde hair that cascaded to her waist. While she appeared youthful, her stance was modest and motherly. She wore a classically Southern draped gown of white silk that pooled around her feet and extended in a train behind her. It flowed in the air with ease.

Vhalla’s eyes shifted to the figure standing next to the Empress. He wore pressed white trousers and a long white coat, which was military in style with two rows of golden buttons running down the front. Its high collar was pinned down by two golden decorative metal plates on the shoulders. A number of military medals decorated the front. A golden rope ran from his shoulder to his chest. Despite all this, his hair was as he always wore it, slicked back and out of his face, flaring out slightly at the sides. The prince regarded the world with poised ambivalence as he looked down at the people, his nose and high cheekbones accented in the sun.

It wasn’t until Roan gave her a quick elbow to the side that she realized she was laughing. Aldrik looked so different in white, but it was still him. Roan shot Vhalla a confused look, and she only shook her head in response. Vhalla wasn’t sure why she found it so funny but she pressed her eyes closed, trying to regain control of herself. The sun still hurt her eyes anyways.

The rumble of the crowd quieted and was replaced with a different rumbling: the sound of horses’ hooves over stone. It started as a distant noise and slowly escalated to loud thunder. Realization of why they had been summoned swept across the people and soon their cries and cheers matched the horses’ clattering hooves.

The first horse blazed through the gates. A pure white stallion held a man wearing golden armor. Every piece of the plate was embellished with careful metalwork and plated with gold. A shrill cry rose through the crowd and the cheers became near deafening.

Vhalla put a hand to her forehead. She didn’t have to look to know who the commotion was for.

The broad-shouldered golden prince stepped down from his horse. He waved his hands to the people, and they reached for him like babes to their mother. Pulling off his helmet, his cropped golden hair clung to his face with sweat and he grinned like a fool as he shook the hands of countless people, making his way to the stage.