Fire Falling(47)

The winds died and silence filled her ears. Vhalla’s legs gave out, and she collapsed to her knees, her arms dropping to her sides. Cracking her eyes open she saw the blazing brightness of the sun against a blue sky. A small sob escaped her mouth and she coughed, her lungs on fire. There was still a strange blur of light and dark playing at the edge of her vision. Vhalla felt her shoulder hit the stone of the road, then her temple—and the world went black.





A SINGLE FLAME DANCED at her bedside and the moon shifted through foreign curtains as Vhalla drifted in and out of consciousness. She shifted restlessly, trying to free herself from the prison of exhaustion and the twilight state of dreams.

A warm palm touched her cheek, followed by the whispering of soothing words. She stirred at the rustle of the blanket being pulled over her. Vhalla cracked her eyes open.

The room came slowly into focus. Vhalla didn’t recognize the tasteful decoration or sumptuous décor. But she did recognize the woman tending her bedside.

“This is getting old,” Vhalla whispered weakly, nearly startling Larel out of her skin.

“You’re awake,” the Western woman breathed with a sigh of relief. “This is getting old. Stop beating yourself up.” The levity was not lost on Larel, and the woman was joyous just at the sight of Vhalla’s open eyes.

“Where are we?” Vhalla asked between a fit of coughing. It felt as though her insides had been shredded.

“The Crossroads.” Larel held a cup of water to Vhalla’s parched lips.

“We made it?” she sputtered in surprise.

“We did.” Larel passed the cup to Vhalla’s eager hands, standing from her place at the bedside. “And there’s someone who has been very eager to see you.”

Larel left the room without further explanation, but Vhalla wasn’t surprised when a raven-haired prince silently slipped through the door a short time later. He turned and Vhalla’s breath hitched. His hair was fixed in place, and he was swathed in finery, not armor. He was every inch the prince she’d met months ago. Every inch the prince she had risked her life to save.

“Vhalla ...” Aldrik croaked.

She saw dark circles beneath his eyes as he staggered toward her. Vhalla sat straighter, wincing slightly at the pain in her back and shoulders as she placed the mostly empty cup on the bedside table. Two obsidian eyes consumed her hungrily, though Vhalla knew she looked a mess.

As Vhalla opened her mouth to speak, the prince collapsed to his knees at her bedside. She was stunned into silence, and Aldrik buried his face in his forearms. She watched his shoulders tremble for a moment and heard ragged breathing. Unable to bear his meaningless pain, Vhalla reached out a bandaged hand, placing it on his hair.

The prince’s face jolted upward, startled by her touch.

“What happened?” she whispered, unable to logically piece it together.

“You foolish idiot,” he suddenly rasped, drawing himself to his feet. “You went without orders from your superior. You ignored the call. You could have killed yourself, you dumb girl.”

Vhalla shrunk back as though he’d slapped her.

“And you stopped the storm.” He sat heavily on the edge of her bed. Without hesitation, Aldrik reached up and cupped her cheek gently. “You foolish, amazing, astounding woman, you saved us all.”

Vhalla let out a small sob of relief. That truth could be assumed by his presence, but hearing him say it made it all the more real. She hung her head and covered her mouth with her palm, trying to restrain her emotions. Aldrik shifted and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him. It hurt to move her body in some places, but Vhalla ignored it easily as she pressed her face into his shoulder.

“You were wondrous, Vhalla,” he breathed deeply into her hair. “And I swear, if you ever do something like that again.”

Vhalla pulled her face away in surprise, his hands wrapping themselves around her shoulders.

“When you ran off, I couldn’t follow you; I couldn’t send anyone for you—I should have. I’m sorry, Gods I wanted to ...” Aldrik breathed deeply and fought for his composure.

“Aldrik,” she said, moving his hands from her shoulders into her grasp, barely containing a small wince. “I didn’t want you to follow me.” Hesitantly she reached out a bandaged hand and caressed his face. It was the first time she could remember touching his cheek and instantly regretted that half her hand was wrapped. Vhalla gave him a small smile. “I wanted to keep you safe. That’s my job right? Keeping you alive?”

Aldrik let out a chuckle and shook his head. He shifted, leaning toward her. Her fingers fell from his face into both of his hands. Vhalla felt lightheaded from sitting as she became aware of his proximity.

“Vhalla,” he murmured softly, tightening his grip. “I thought I might never have another opportunity to see you, to talk to you.” Aldrik stared at their laced fingers; his thumbs stroked the backs of her bandages. “I thought you would ride away and I would never ...” His voice trailed off to barely more than a whisper. He braved giving her his attention once more, and Vhalla felt something flutter frantically. “I would never have the opportunity to tell you that ...”

Vhalla leaned closer to him, savoring every word. She could almost feel his breath on her face when he spoke.

“That I ...” Aldrik was suddenly keenly aware of her attentiveness and there was something that resembled fear at the realization. Aldrik’s lips parted.