“What was that sorry display, men?” he asked, his voice having all its normal melodic tones but none of its mirth. “You’re supposed to be taking care of our prisoner; she was ten times worse in that courtroom than when I brought her.”

“Sh-she tried to kill your brother, th-the prince,” Rat tried.

“She’s been found guilty of nothing yet, and until that time, she is to be kept alive and well.” Prince Baldair turned with a glare in his direction.

“She’s alive,” Mole offered.

The prince sighed. “I will assume you have simply never been taught how to tend field wounds. I’ll show you myself. Open the door,” he demanded, full of regal poise.

“Senator Egmun gave us clear instruction that—” Mole began.

“Egmun is your senator, and I am your prince. Do we need to go over the chain of command?” Baldair snapped.

“No, no my lord, of course not.” Mole fumbled with the keys. The door unlocked and he pushed it open. “Be careful, my prince. She already tried to kill one member of the royal family.”

Prince Baldair ignored him as he entered the dim cell. The only source of light came from a torch on the wall outside, so his face was cast in shadow. He set the box down with small clanking sound not far from her.

“Can you sit?” Prince Baldair’s voice was even softer than his tired smile. Vhalla said nothing and struggled into a seated position with only a few whimpers. “Good,” he encouraged and reached out for her shoulder.

Vhalla flinched as his fingertips grazed her skin.

“Vhalla, I have to dress your wounds properly or they’ll fester.”

She tried to sit still as he reached for her shoulder again, but her whole body wouldn’t stop trembling. All Vhalla saw was a man’s hand coming for her in the same, dark, cramped space as before. The energy pulsating through her muscles snapped and she swatted his hand away.

“Don’t touch me!” she hissed, her body overcome with shivers. His hand paused in the air. “Please...” Vhalla wanted to break down then and beg him for safety but she was reduced to sobs and coughing blood through split lips.

“Vhalla,” Prince Baldair murmured faintly. “What happened to you?” He looked and absorbed her battered form for the first time.

Vhalla’s breathing was short and fast, giving her a lightheaded sensation. Her eyes struggled for focus through the rage that was blinding them but they found their targets. Rat and Mole took a step backward as the force of her glare pressed upon them.

Prince Baldair followed her stare, his body gathering tension like an archer’s bowstring. He took a long inhale of air before exploding upward. The prince crossed the short distance to the door in two quick steps. Mole and Rat had been weary under Vhalla’s glare, but now horror consumed their faces as the prince barreling toward them. Prince Baldair put a hand on each of their breastplates and pushed them into the far wall of the hallway.

“Did you touch her?” he roared, pinning them both in place.

Each guard seemed too shocked to move as the prince’s largely muscled frame held them easily.

“M-my prince, w-we...” Rat stammered.

“You see, the senator...” Mole tried.

Prince Baldair shook his head and gave a small chuckle. “I’m very proud to be a man. Men have duties, honors, which we can stand behind and take pride in.” He raised his eyes to look at them. “Abusing a woman— abusing anyone—violates all of those. You know what I do with men under my command who ignore their duties and honor?” The two men looked on in terror. “I make them no longer men, so they can’t give the rest of us a bad name.”

“But-but she’s not a person. She’s a freak.”

Vhalla finally looked away; Rat shouldn’t still be able to hurt her.

“Go! Out of my sight!” Prince Baldair roared, the rage in his voice echoed down the corridor after the two fleeing guards.

He stood there and watched them go, letting out a sigh. Prince Baldair turned and looked down at her with large, sad, apologetic eyes. His whole face gave into the expression. Vhalla looked at the floor; she didn’t want his pity.

“I’m sorry. They’re Egmun’s men; he recommended them. We should’ve known better.” He shook his head, a curse on his breath. Vhalla looked up at him warily. “Vhalla, I know this will be difficult, but I must clean and bandage your wounds. I’m sorry but I can’t do that if I can’t touch you.”

She looked down again.

“You understand, you will die if we let them fester,” he added.

“I know,” Vhalla drew a slow breath and reformed her resolve. Egmun had wanted her to give up and give in. “Go ahead.”

Prince Baldair absorbed the woman before him, paying subconscious respect to the creature clawing her way from the dark hole she kept being forced into. With a nod he returned to his box, popping open a latch and fishing through clerical supplies. When his hands made contact with her skin Vhalla didn’t even flinch. This was Prince Baldair, she told herself, and he would not hurt her.

“I was the one who found you,” the prince didn’t look at her as he spoke. “When the first whirlwind landed, I went running. It doesn’t just happen like that. If something weird, horrible, and magical is happening, I normally find my brother close by.”

“A whirlwind?” Vhalla asked softly.

The prince nodded. “The wind was insane. It ripped those Northerners into tiny bits.”

Vhalla stared at him blankly. “Wait, that’s why...” She was putting the pieces together.

“You really don’t remember?” he asked, stunned.

“I don’t remember anything,” she told him honestly.

“Vhalla, you summoned a wind storm. It was almost as big as the entire square nearby,” the prince explained.

“Did I really hurt Aldrik?” She stared in horror.

Prince Baldair raised his eyebrows. Vhalla’s hands went to her mouth and she realized her mistake.

“He lets you call him by name?” The prince chuckled softly. Before she could attempt to answer he continued, “Aldrik was a little battered by this or that in the wind, I think more than he confessed to me after. But he doesn’t blame you. The wind did not hurt him like it did the Northerners.” Vhalla let out a breath. “I could only make it to you when the gale stopped.” The prince ran a hand through his hair.

“My brother was clinging to you with all his might. As though you were... I don’t know what...” Prince Baldair shifted, as if the memory made him uncomfortable. Vhalla stared him in shock, and he chuckled uneasily. “Jaw open, eyes wide,” Baldair summarized at the expression she was giving him. “That must’ve been my face when I saw him holding you like that.”

Vhalla looked down at her bruised hands and wondered if Aldrik would ever want to touch her again. “Why are you here?” she asked. The prince hadn’t come only to tell her all this. Another cleric could just as easily have tended to her.

“Because I owed my brother, and he called in a favor,” Baldair answered honestly. A frown crossed her face; she was a burden to them. The prince shook his head, as if reading her mind. “Because I was worried about the beautiful, charming woman I had danced with.”