“He is a Firebearer,” she explained dumbly.
Prince Baldair chuckled softly. “I know what he’s called.” The prince shook his head, glancing away. “I don’t want to see you getting wrapped up in my brother’s dark world and hurt again. That’s all.”
He wasn’t interested in giving her a chance to formulate a response. The prince left with the key, and Vhalla heard his footsteps disappear down the hall. A cold shiver ran through her.
Alone, she was left with her thoughts and the demons that lived there. The memory of Sareem came back to her, and Vhalla made a futile attempt to catch her sobs with a palm over her mouth. It was pointless, and she was soon doubled over, her sobs echoing through the halls. Every time she blinked, she saw his face, his twisted and broken face staring at her with its one good eye.
Knowing the prince walked away with the key, she grabbed for the bottle of green liquid and took a large gulp. Before Mole and Rat returned, she used a little more water and the rags to finish a near pointless cleaning of herself, choking down tears. Vhalla applied the cream to all the surface wounds she could find and then laid down.
She was exhausted and the potion set in quickly. Her whimpers soon faded into silence and Vhalla passed out on the stone floor with little problem.
SURPRISINGLY, VHALLA SLEPT fairly well. Extreme exhaustion did wonders for sleeping through the night, no matter the conditions. Sitting up, Vhalla’s head throbbed and she rubbed the stiffness from her joints.
She used one of the damp cloths the prince had left to freshen her face, even if it made it no cleaner. Vhalla glanced at her doorway and saw the shoulder of a man standing there. Likely Mole. She laid back down and closed her eyes, not wanting to alert them that she had woken. Another set of footsteps strolled down the hall.
“You got assigned here too?” It wasn’t Mole’s voice.
“Like he’d separate us.” It wasn’t Rat. “Crazy story, isn’t it?”
Vhalla sat up, confused.
“Who’s there?” she asked, and two new faces stared at her.
“I’m Craig,” said a Southerner who appeared about Aldrik’s age.
“Daniel.” An Easterner. Something about his relaxed and youthful eyes made Vhalla feel marginally easier.
“What happened to Mo—the other guards?” she asked.
The two exchanged a look. “Last night, the crown prince found them stealing from the bond coffers. He put them to death on the spot.” Craig made a shivering motion. Vhalla’s eyes widened as her jaw dropped. “It’s a little crazy. I knew he had a temper, but it takes a special rage to kill two of your own men standing in their boots.”
“Keep your voice down,” Daniel hissed. “Last thing you want is his wrath on us.”
Vhalla stared in a stunned silence. Rat and Mole, Aldrik had killed them. She remembered the face of the Northerner melting off, but found her stomach strangely calm.
When her stomach finally churned it was not over the idea of their deaths but the likely reasoning behind it. Regardless of what people believed about him, Aldrik would not kill without cause; Vhalla wouldn’t believe anything else about him. There was only one reason she could think of.
“Did you really make that wind storm?” Daniel asked, drawing her from her reeling thoughts.
“I-I’m not sure,” she replied, uncertain of the look on his face.
“It was huge!” Daniel’s eyes grew large. She felt uneasy; was he friend or foe?
“You are not supposed to sound excited.” Craig thumped his partner’s head with a fist.
“If she did, that’d make her a Windwalker. You don’t understand what that means.” Daniel rubbed the crown of his head with a grin.
Vhalla moved a little closer to the bars.
“You read too many books.” Craig rolled his eyes.
“And you don’t read any books at all!” Daniel laughed. “You know about Windwalkers?” Vhalla asked timidly.
“Not until recently,” Daniel confessed, turning back to her.
“Not until last night you mean.” Craig shook his head. “He gets assigned here and tries to become an expert on magic overnight.”
“At least I’ve an interest.” Daniel shrugged.
Vhalla stared at them uncertainly. The door at the end of the hallway opened, and her mind was instantly racing with panic at the footsteps. Both guards snapped to attention.
“Senator,” Daniel saluted. Craig stayed silent but mirrored Daniel’s motions. Vhalla glared at Egmun. She could feel every last bruise as his eyes took a leisurely assessment of her body.
“Where are her assigned guards?” Egmun asked.
“We are her assigned guards, sir.” Both Craig and Daniel held their salutes.
Egmun rubbed his temples with a sigh. “I realize that their standards for guards are astoundingly low, but I would have hoped you could read your assignments.”
The two men exchanged a look. “This is our assignment, sir,” Daniel said with confidence.
Vhalla’s mouth curled into a smirk at the confused and enraged expression crossing Egmun’s face.
“Where are Salvis and Wer?” the Senator demanded. Vhalla tried to guess who Mole was.
“They’re dead, sir,” Daniel answered.
Egmun lost his composure to his surprise for a brief second, and Vhalla wanted to cackle.
“Dead?” he repeated.
“Parrot,” Vhalla mumbled under her breath.
“How?” Egmun’s teeth were grinding.
“They were found stealing from the bond payment chest,” Craig jumped in. “Imperial Justice.”
Egmun paused and laughed.
“It would be, wouldn’t it?” His eyes fell on Vhalla and she was happy to have the bars keeping him out. “It would be...” He chuckled and turned. “Her trial starts soon. Make sure she’s on time.” Egmun clicked away down the hall, his emerald robes swishing about him.
Vhalla let out her breath.
“He seems about as pleasant as a rabid weasel in a bag of vipers,” Craig noted dully.
“Craig!” Daniel hissed, but didn’t argue.
With that remark these guards became acceptable. She remembered Prince Baldair mentioning something about the previous guards being Egmun’s men. If that was true, whose men were these? What luck was looking out for her? Vhalla struggled to her feet.
Daniel fumbled with the keys, opening the door. She looked at them expectantly.
“I think you’re supposed to cuff me.” Vhalla held out her wrists, hoping they wrote off the abuse that painted her arms as having been caused by the Northerners.
“Are we?” Daniel asked uncertainly.
“I-I think so?” Craig ran off to grab some shackles hanging on the wall. They were only over her wrists this time.
“It seems rather pointless,” Daniel mused as they started down the hallway. “You’re a sorcerer, right? What’s cuffing you supposed to do?”
“Daniel!” Craig groaned, “Let’s not give the person standing on trial for treason any ideas?”
Vhalla shifted her hands; he had a point. She dared an attempt at her magic. Tears of relief escaped when she felt a weak little flicker around her fingertips. Knowing it was returning reduced her resentment for it not being available to help against Rat and Mole.