Fire Falling(63)

In all, the day cost her almost all the money she had brought. But they were only in the Crossroads for a few more days and most things seemed to have been taken care of for her.

Even outside the market her arm still lingered around Daniel’s. The night chill was setting in and he was familiar and warm. Vhalla smiled, fussing with the dagger strapped to her left arm.

“It doesn’t work as a concealed weapon if you’re showing people it’s there,” Daniel scolded with a grin.

“You’re right, I suppose,” she agreed with a laugh. He hadn’t touched the new dagger strapped to his calf for hours.

They strolled through the market and back to the central square, where the East-West Way met the Great Imperial Way. Firebearers walked about lighting the lamps, and Vhalla found it amazing to see a society that had sorcerers so integrated in helpful ways. She smiled, eyes following one in particular for no reason. He moved to a building with large circular stained glass. Vhalla paused shifting her bag on her shoulder.

It was a bad idea. She was having another moment where she needed to admit it, and stop herself. Vhalla took a breath. “I—” She paused, glancing between Daniel and the building. “I need to make a quick stop. The inn is right over there. You can go ahead.”

“No, I’m not letting you walk alone in the Crossroads at night,” he said definitively. “It can be dangerous.”

“Very well,” she sighed softly. “Then wait out here for me?”

“That, I can do.” There was apprehension locked in his eyes, but Daniel kept it away from his tongue and spared her comment.

Vhalla took a breath and summoned her courage, walking to the front doors. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to see Aldrik again. Wasn’t she mad at him? But at the root of all her conflicting feelings was the need to see him, to say what needed to be said: the truth.

Soft music, a Southern sound, played from one of the rooms off the main lobby. Vhalla looked uncertainly at the shut doors and opulent parlors. A man cleared his throat from behind the front desk.

“I have a delivery for the Crown Prince,” Vhalla announced.

The older man folded his bony fingers and regarded her skeptically. “What could you possibly have?”

“I’m the Windwalker,” she declared, attempting to use credentials to dodge the question.

“That is most excellent, and what is so important that he would not leave word?”

Deflated that her approach hadn’t worked, she lost her resolve and mumbled, “He ... We have work to do ... for the Emperor.”

“I’m sure ...” The man didn’t believe her in the slightest. “Unfortunately the prince has explicitly asked not to be disturbed. Do take care.”

Vhalla sighed softly, resigned.

“Vhalla?” Prince Baldair stopped in a hallway joining the lobby with other rooms, walking over to her. “What’re you doing here?”

“My prince, I was just leaving.” Vhalla keenly remembered the last time she and Prince Baldair had spoken.

“She was asking to see the crown prince,” the treacherous clerk informed.

“Vhalla.” The golden prince frowned, glancing at the man and thinking better of continuing. “I’ll take her there myself.”

“You will?” Vhalla and the desk man said in unison.

“He’s shut himself up; I’ve not seen him once. Company is a good thing, no?” Baldair placed his hand on the small of her back and practically pushed her up a wide staircase.

“You’re really taking me to see him?” Vhalla asked as they reached the second floor landing.

“Of course not, but I am going to ask you what you think you’re doing here.” In private, the prince dropped all decorum.

“It’s nothing important,” Vhalla muttered. She was already second guessing her mission.

“I thought I told you to stay away.” Baldair frowned.

“It’s not your business.” Vhalla pulled the bag of candy from her pack. “And I also wanted to give him these.”

“Lemon peels?” Prince Baldair recognized the sweet shop’s marking. “Vhalla ...” he sighed. “I don’t know what kind of relationship you think you can have with my brother—”

“I don’t want one,” she said defensively. The words crossed her lips before Vhalla could think about them, fueled by spite.

“No, you do. He has you under his spell,” the golden haired prince insisted.

“What are you talking about?” Vhalla took a step away.

“Why else would anyone want my brother?”

He caught her wrist as she tried to leave. “Let me go.”

“I’m trying to help you.” Somehow, Prince Baldair managed to sound sincere.

“Let me go!” Vhalla tugged against his firm grip.

“What is all this commotion?” a voice called from the end of the hall. Vhalla’s blood turned to ice in her veins. Elecia, in a loose sleeping tunic and nothing else, stood barefoot and groggy eyed. She yawned as she came closer. “Vhalla? What are you doing here?”

“Nothing!” Vhalla said, trying to make a hasty retreat. “I’m trying to leave right now.” She clutched the lemon peels to her chest and tried to turn, but Prince Baldair still held her wrist.