Air Awakens Book One (30 page)

The terraced water gardens had a grandeur that she had never seen before, with wide semi-circular structures overlapping at different intervals of height. The wall of each was thin white marble and the water contained within was flawless and still, reflecting the night sky like a mirror. Marble stairs led down from the balcony and cut a winding path through the inky blackness of the water. Small, circular plant gardens had been placed at varying intervals along its lazy way before it wrapped back around again on the balcony’s other side.

She clutched the railing and took a deep breath of the clean night air. How dare someone speak of her and Aldrik in such a manner! It wasn’t as though they were... Vhalla looked out across the garden with a small sigh, what were they anyway? Briefly, something in the darkness shifted before leaning back against a tree. Vhalla was down the steps without glancing over her shoulder.

The stars stretched out above and around her as she walked to that small oasis of marble and greenery. She stepped up onto the platform, holding her dress, careful not to trip, and smiled faintly. This was what she had come for.

Aldrik stepped away from the tree’s trunk.

“What are you doing here?” The question was slightly accusatory, but there was no aggression in the prince’s voice.

“Your brother invited me.” Vhalla walked under the shadow of the foliage.

Aldrik snorted in disgust and shook his head. “A woman comes at my brother’s call.” He took a half step away from her. “I have heard every variation of that before.”

“I didn’t come for him,” Vhalla whispered softly. The gardens were surrounded by a tall palace wall that blocked most of the mountain winds. The prince heard her with little problem, his retreat stalled. “I came to see
you
.”

“Me?” He looked back in disbelief.

“Yes, you,” Vhalla laughed softly. Her chest hurt, and she couldn’t decide if it was from happiness or heartbreak. “And you’re out here trying to skip the party.”

“I could not stand watching all of them, my brother, dance with you,” he said defensively.

“Well, why didn’t you ask me then?” She tilted her head to the side, a touch coy.

“Fine. Vhalla Yarl, may I have this dance?”

He held out his hands, and she crossed the remaining distance. His right hand timidly landed on her waist and her right hand settled in his left. She placed her free hand on his shoulder and, ever so faintly, they heard the echo of music across the water. He stepped first.

It was a slow dance with deliberate steps. He didn’t possess the flair that his brother did, but he didn’t need to. Vhalla felt his movements through his palms, the shifts in his waist, the closeness of this way or that. They danced together to a faint melody drifting across the water, among the star-filled pools, with the heavens shining down upon them. She closed her eyes and felt him with every sense she possessed.

He turned and pulled her a half step closer, she obliged with a full step. It was impossible to move without touching somewhere. Each brush of fabric or turn of the head sent chills through her. When his hand shifted from her waist to the small of her back, gooseflesh dotted her arms. She looked up at him and he met her eyes. The silence wasn’t awkward or stressful; it spoke more eloquently between them than they had ever been able to speak with words.

The song finished, but he held her there. Looking away, she clutched the seams of his jacket and rested her left cheek on his chest. Aldrik stiffened briefly, and Vhalla held her breath, expecting to be pushed away. He let her hand go and trailed his fingers down her arm to her shoulder, before it rested with his right on her lower back. His skin was warm, almost hot, and she could feel the outline of his hand even through the corset and dress. Vhalla moved her free hand to his other shoulder, and they stood there together for a long time in silence. He rested his cheek on her forehead and took a breath. Vhalla willed with everything she had for the world to stop so she could linger in the moment eternally.

In those fleeting moments, the complexities of titles and who they were faded into base emotion. She wanted, she
needed
him. This man, who was regarded as little more than a curt and dark monster, had somehow claimed her without ever truly touching her before this night.

“Vhalla,” her eyes fluttered closed at the mention of her name. “First the library boy, then Baldair. I am envious of them.”

“Why?” She needed to hear the answer.

“Because they seem to have no trouble finding reasons to be around you. And I...” A deep chuckle resonated through the crown prince’s chest into the ear she had pressed against it. “I struggle to find a reason, and when I am with you I struggle still.”

There was something strange about his voice. It held a barely audible huskiness that sent heat to the pit of her stomach. Vhalla tightened her grip on his clothes.

“You shouldn’t struggle for anything, you’re the crown prince,” she breathed into the crisp autumn air.

“I may be a prince,” he said as his lips brushed her ear lightly. “But I would trade it all to be a common man, even if only for tonight.”

His lips made her knees feel weak. Vhalla shifted her head to look up at him; Aldrik wore an unfamiliar and heavy expression. She wished she had years with him to hear his stories, to talk about his pains and his joys, to continue to enjoy slow afternoons together, to work out the strange struggle between them that was both irresistible and undeniable. But a clock ticked in the back of her mind. Dawn would come far too soon.

“Are you really leaving?” she whispered faintly. He sighed and glanced away. Vhalla lifted her hand and cupped his cheek, turning his face back toward her. He didn’t resist her touch, and she searched his pained expression.

“I do not know the exact hour. But yes, soon,” Aldrik confessed in a deep rumble.

She bit her lower lip and shifted her hand up his face. Her fingertips grazed his pronounced cheek, his brow, and forehead. Vhalla paused, stopping on the golden crown that was nothing more than a barrier between them.

“Then for one night, if I can pretend I am a lady of noble birth—” She grabbed the circlet gently with her fingertips and lifted it off his brow. He stiffened as she dropped it to the ground. “—can you pretend you are a common man?”

Vhalla wasn’t sure what she fully implied as his eyes grew wide. Aldrik’s lips parted in surprise. All she knew was that if he was to leave, she didn’t want to leave without experiencing his closeness and warmth.

“I’m afraid, if you leave...” she choked out, thinking of a rainy night that seemed so long ago.

Aldrik lifted his hand to her cheek and lightly ran his fingertips down her face, as if he was worried she may break at any moment. Very briefly his thumb touched her lips and his arm tightened around her waist, eliminating any remaining distance between them. Vhalla felt him along her whole body; his warmth, his presence enveloped her.

“Vhalla,” he whispered with a voice as dark as midnight. His nose was almost touching hers.

“Aldrik,” she breathed faintly, as though it was a prayer. No word had ever tasted sweeter on her tongue.

As she felt his warm breath on her face, he paused and turned his head toward the city, his expression drastically changed. Vhalla looked over, frustrated and confused.

The first fiery explosion rang out through the clear night, sending shockwaves across the capital of the Empire.

A
SECOND BEFORE THE
blast, Aldrik turned his body so that his back was toward the explosion. His hand was buried in Vhalla’s hair as he pressed her protectively to his chest. She clung to him, trembling. Her ears had not yet stopped buzzing when the second explosion shook the mountainside, and Aldrik’s arms pulled her tighter. She cried her fear into his chest at the mind-numbing sound. For a moment there was silence, and she tried to catch her breath. However, the stillness was short-lived as slow-growing noise began to float up from the city below.

Screams, cries, and wails carried up the mountainside, and Vhalla pressed her hands over her ears. Aldrik continued to hold her tightly while she regained a shaky control.

“Wh-what?” she asked frantically, all words and thoughts falling to the rising panic. His grip loosened as he looked over his shoulder. Vhalla shifted her body so her eyes could follow his.

A fire was already beginning to sweep through the city, jumping from house to house. Smoke began to blot out the stars and cover the city in a foul, orange haze.

Vhalla took a step away from him, toward the scene.

“Where—” she stammered, “—where is that?” Her brain felt scrambled from noise and shock.

“Vhalla, you need to return to the palace.
Now
.” Aldrik’s tone was sharp and he grabbed her forearms, refusing to let her wander from him.

She resisted his tugs, glued to the scene. Something fitted into place in her mind.

“Vhalla,” Aldrik moved in front of her, a hand on her cheek. “The guards will be mobilized. I’ll go help myself,” he said, trying to be assuring, but his voice sounded strained and panicked. “But I
need you
to go back in the palace where it’s safe.”

Vhalla stepped to the side of him and looked back at the scene. Her eyes widened as her brain returned to life. She inhaled sharply, her breathing rough.

“R-Roan, Sareem.”

“What?” She barely heard Aldrik ask, he sounded far away.

Vhalla pointed. “That’s where the square of the sun and moon is, isn’t it?” her voice raised in fear.

“I don’t know, Vhalla.” Aldrik shook his head trying to take her hand again.

“It is.” She looked back, and there was no doubt. “Roan, Sareem! Aldrik, my friends are there!” She turned back to the scene.

“So were half the commoners in the city. Now,
back in the palace,
” he snapped and grabbed her wrist with force.

“No!” she cried, wrenching her hand back. “No! They need my help.” Vhalla turned and felt a hot wind rise up to the sky, carrying the smell of fire. She remembered her confrontation with Roan, telling her of Sareem’s plans to meet her at the bakery near plaza. Vhalla had never told Sareem anything different, and Roan most certainly would have gone to claim the man she loved. Vhalla’s chest tightened. She hadn’t apologized to either of them. She hadn’t even had a chance to explain what was happening to her.

Without any thought, Vhalla was running, ignoring the prince’s cries at her back. Her fancy heeled shoes were soon left behind on the marble, and Vhalla moved quickly in her bare feet. One of the terraces stretched outward to the top of the wall and Vhalla sprinted across the shallow water, her skirts quickly growing water-logged and heavy. She heard a splash and looked behind her—Aldrik had given chase.

“Vhalla! Stop this! You’re not going to be able to help them!” he cried.

But, she wasn’t ready to hear reason. All that filled her ears were the sounds of screams. All that filled her nose was smoke and death. All that filled her eyes was a burning inferno closing upon two people she had known for half her life—friends she had foolishly shut out.

Vhalla reached the wall and hoisted herself up. It was much taller on the other side, taller than even the bookcases of the Imperial Library. She looked down a moment, uncertain.

“Vhalla, they may not even be there.” Aldrik had caught up with her. His breathing was fairly easy where hers was labored.

Vhalla began to rip at the gathering on her skirt, starting a tear between her calves and knees. “They were there,” she insisted.

“You don’t know,” Aldrik insisted.

“Come down.” “Sareem would have waited all night for me!” She choked a sob of guilt as she looked at the sky. It was past their arranged time to meet. If she had just told him the truth, he and Roan may have spent the evening in the palace as the three of them had so many years prior. Burdened with guilt and grief, Vhalla jumped off the other side of the wall.

The air rushed past her ears and around her, blowing the remaining skirt this way and that. Vhalla braced herself but she landed lightly in a crouch.

“Vhalla!” Aldrik called from atop the wall.

She stared up at him, offering an apologetic expression before plunging herself into the chaos of the streets.

While she had lived in the capital all of her adult life, Vhalla had spent most of it in the palace. The alleyways could be tricky and maze-like even on the best of days, but now they seemed like passageways through the horrors of the afterlife for evildoers. People pushed against her from every which way, fleeing from the place she was struggling to reach. Some had burns covering their bodies, their clothing hanging in tattered rags. Others had open wounds with blood flowing from them.

Vhalla stepped in something warm and soft that squished between her toes. She looked down in horror to see the remnants of a man who had been trampled to death by the stampede of people. His skull had been crushed and his bones shattered on the street. Unable to handle the sight a second longer, Vhalla darted down a dead-end ally and vomited, screamed as she stared at her bloody feet, and her stomach heaved again.