Crystal Crowned [ARC] (12 page)

“Let it be so,” he chuckled. “We have had enough hardship.”

“So it’s what I expect.” Vhalla linked her arm with his, enjoying the quiet. It felt like forever since they had last been alone. Elecia had chosen to sleep in the camp with her father. But Fritz and Jax were joining Vhalla and Aldrik in the government building, so Vhalla expected such times to be limited.

“My father,” Aldrik said thoughtfully. “For all his flaws, he had a vision that takes roots in the hearts of men. A vision of a single banner, uniting us all. Of struggling for a better future rather than against each other.”

Vhalla gripped his arm for a moment, debating if she should bring up the Crescent Continent. She put a quick end to her debate.
He didn’t need to be reminded of his father’s ruthlessness
. She would allow him a memory colored with fondness.

Aldrik continued, “It’s an ideal people are still willing to fight for. Because we were so close we could taste it.”

“You will end this war and be an Emperor for peace.” Vhalla permitted herself a tiny smile at the notion.

“We will end it. And
we
will be the rulers for peace.”

The night’s darkness enveloped the last messenger bird. Vhalla’s hands were ink stained and tired. She’d written triple the number of letters Aldrik had, but only a third had been sent. She had never written letters as an Empress before, and it proved more difficult than expected to capture and hold the right tone.

Vhalla had scrapped the first batch on her own and then the second after Aldrik’s critique. Eventually she developed a formula for informing the Western lords and ladies that their Emperor was alive. But by the time she’d mastered it, Aldrik had already finished the majority on his own.

“Come.” He took her hand in his, drawing her attention away from the window. “We should rest.”

Vhalla appreciated the simple elegance of the Eastern government building. It was the original senate hall, and it was as opulent as could be expected of the East without being needlessly lavish. The floors were multi-colored wood, inlaid in a zig-zag pattern of light and dark. A handful of portraits in tasteful frames lined the hall at wide intervals. Candlelight gleamed off the floor polish.

But the beauty had a certain darkness tainting it at the shadows. This place stood for a government created by the people, to serve the people—the East’s great experiment. As long as Victor was alive, it would only be a shade of its former glory, its growth stinted by the shade of a madman.

She rubbed her shoulder absent-mindedly. The scar no longer ached to the touch. It had healed over to an ugly, but otherwise harmless, mark.

They passed Jax and Fritz’s temporary chambers on the way to their rooms. Vhalla would have stopped in to spend time with her friend, but no light peeked out from under his door. Vhalla hoped that he was getting some much needed sleep in a real bed.

She and Aldrik had separate rooms, as was deemed chaste and appropriate for their standing. It made Vhalla roll her eyes at the notion. Apparently the senator thought similarly, as the rooms had a connecting door. It fit the East’s lax mentality when it came to physical affection. The notion of sacred chastity was a loose construct placed upon them by the West rather than an important tenant of their culture.

Vhalla naturally found her way into his bed most nights. Their proximity was impossible to fight and, in some ways, she needed him now more than ever. His arms reassured her that she had a place in his world, that she wasn’t a girl pretending to be noble.

Vhalla listened to his slow and steady breathing, debating the words that were burning her tongue. They both needed rest, and he was nearly asleep. Vhalla nuzzled her Emperor’s jaw gently.

“What is it?” Aldrik uttered into the darkness.

“Norin?” she replied.

He sighed softly, pressing his cheek into her forehead. “I did promise we would speak on it.”

“And I will hold you to that promise.”

“We absolutely must have the full support of the Empire,” he began. “Standing against Victor will otherwise be impossible.”

She didn’t disagree.

“Our Empire is in disarray, threatened by being torn apart and scattered. My life is enough to rally the West. Your becoming Empress helps cement the East’s support. But the North depends on the deal we have struck with them.”

Vhalla held her tongue as, technically, the deal Sehra had made was for
Aldrik’s
heir, irrelevant of which woman produced said heir. Vhalla had no guarantee she would make it to the end of the war.

“Beyond that, the people need a display of strength. That their leadership is whole, united, concrete. A wedding will do just that.”

“Are you certain?” She was unconvinced. “Wouldn’t a wedding look as though we are focused on ourselves when we should be focused on our people?” It was odd how phrases like “our people” were becoming easier to say.

He chuckled and pressed his lips firmly to her forehead. “I adore your compassion for our Empire. But I beseech you—have faith in me on this. I understand the workings of the court and the displays the people expect.”

“I do have faith in you, but that doesn’t exempt me from feeling uncertain.”

“My Vhalla.” His arms tightened around her. “Grant it to me. If something should happen to me—”

“Don’t say it.” She twisted to find his face in the darkness, stealing the words from his lips with a firm kiss. “Don’t you dare say those words, Aldrik Solaris. We’ve been through too much to entertain morbid possibilities.”

Vhalla knew where his heart lay. It was in the same place that had told her to go West if he fell in the final battle of the North. It was the truth, but Vhalla did not want to give it the credence of words. She knew the title of Empress would ensure her protection. She knew Aldrik desired nothing more; he didn’t need to say it.

“Very well,” Aldrik sighed, gently kissing her back for a long moment. “If it is truly something you do not wish, then we won’t speak on it. But consider the notion, come to terms with it, before you outright reject it.”

“That I can do.” Her words were a hushed whisper, but a cacophony of noise filled her brain as her mind tried to think too many thoughts over top each other.

A few hours later, she had almost quieted the noise in her mind when her restless sleep was interrupted by a screech ripping through the sky. It sounded as though the heavens were being torn asunder, and it awoke both of them with a start. Another cry echoed the first. It was pure agony given form, as though a thousand men and women cried all at once.

She was out of bed and to their window in an instant, throwing open the shutter and looking skyward.

“What do you see?” Aldrik asked, trying to look as well.

“Nothing from here.” Vhalla squinted into the darkness of the night.

Another screech came. Creatures zipped through the night air and gusted wind against her cheeks. Vhalla’s eyes caught a glint of something unnatural descending upon Hastan. The brief outlines of hulking abominations were visible, glowing faintly in a familiar turquoise shade.

“Monsters,” she breathed. “Victor’s attacking.”

“Did you see him?” Aldrik took one more look out the window before starting for the door.

“Not him, but one of his crystal experiments.” Vhalla wasn’t actually sure what banked through the sky, but it was unlike anything she’d ever seen before. The creature they had encountered on the road with Daniel seemed child’s play compared to this. Even just as a shadow in the night, it was a nightmare given form—a monster that one wished to remain in the void from where it came.

Aldrik cursed loudly, slamming the door behind them. “He knows we’re here.”

Vhalla was about to ask how, but the words stopped short. She remembered the Inquisitors in Paca and her foolishly proclaiming about where they were going. She’d wanted to spark inspiration in the people, she’d wanted to sway the men from Victor.
But what if they hadn’t been swayed?
The heat of betrayal flushed her cheeks.

“What’s going on?” Jax met them in the hall.

“Victor’s attacking,” Aldrik spoke without stopping.

“Vhal?” Fritz yawned, rubbing his eyes. He’d barely been roused by all the noise. The man might be able to sleep through the end of the world.

“We’re under attack,” Vhalla pulled her friend along.

The main entryway was already buzzing when the four of them entered. The senator was trying to pull threads of organization through the chaos, but it was proving a futile attempt. Aldrik cleared his throat.

“I need the fastest horse,” he announced, projecting the demand throughout the room. “And whatever armor is closest to my size.”

The room stilled.

“Any who are skilled in combat are to come with me. We will join with the Western forces outside the city to thwart this attempt from the false king.” Aldrik glanced at her and guilt clouded his eyes. Vhalla knew why instantly, and she wanted to hate him for it. “My lady will remain here. Her will is to be considered an extension of my own.”

He was leaving her behind
. “Aldrik,” Vhalla whispered hastily. “I can carry a sword; I can fight.”

His eyes flicked to the rest of the room, the people watching their discourse. “You’re more valuable to me here. Keep things in order. Help me lead from within.”

“I’ll stay with the Lady Yarl,” Jax announced from her side.

“No, you will go with the Lord Solaris,” Vhalla demanded. “Fritz, you will go as well. Both of your skills will be of use on the field.”

Another screech interrupted any of Jax’s potential objections. The smell of smoke wafted in through the open doors of the government building, cries and shouts riding the wind along with it. The three men exchanged a look as Vhalla stood resolute.

“Go, the field needs leaders.”

They listened to her, and Vhalla swallowed her frantically beating heart as she watched the three leave with a handful of others. The room remained still as the world beyond devolved into chaos before their eyes. Vhalla clenched her fists.

Maybe there was more to Aldrik’s leaving her than Vhalla understood. Panic was a wildfire that was quickly growing out of control in the people around her. Vhalla realized that Aldrik’s words of her value may have been more than appeasement. They needed leadership here and now.

“Senator, how many civilians are currently within Hastan?”

“A couple hundred,” the woman replied.

“What stone buildings are there? Any basement cellars or storehouses for the city?”

A few others listed varying responses. Three or four seemed promising.

“We will move civilians into these locations,” Vhalla decreed. “As we do so, seek out any who have experience with healing or clerical skills. We will set up a triage here, central to all points. I need at least four runners to function as messengers.”

Men and women volunteered instantly. The room was quickly divided into those who would remain and those who would help move civilians. She trusted those who lived in Hastan to know their city and to be motivated to protect their kin without her help.

“Triage will be here,” she explained quickly to those who had remained. Her clerics ranged from old women who had seen every type of injury, to experienced veterans, to mothers, and a handful of those with formal training. She left the elderly in charge of the initial assessments.

“Those with the worst wounds send back into the hall, the least to the right. Take whatever you require and use whatever rooms you need.”

“These rooms are to be used for nobility, the Emperor’s guests,” someone spoke up.

“Pardon?” Vhalla stilled her instruction.

“We cannot take from the Emperor . . .” another added uncertainly.

“I am your future Empress,” she pointed out. “They’re just blankets and sheets and beds. The Emperor and I want to see them used as bandages, tourniquets, or comfort for the ailing.”

They were finally spurred to life. The most experienced clerics and veterans had the easiest time coming to terms with the fact that all bets were off when it came to warfare. Led by their example, everyone hastily began the process of setting up their clerical stations.

It couldn’t have come a moment too soon. Wounded were carried in with returning messengers. It only took an hour for the floor of the main entry to the Eastern government hall to be slick with blood.

“Report,” she demanded of the next messenger she saw.

“My lady,” the young woman began, “seven winged beasts brought nearly one hundred soldiers to our city.” Her voice wavered slightly with fear, but she persevered. “They landed to the north and quickly tore through the Western militia.”

“Is the army trying to flank them to recover the ground?”

“They’re trying,” she affirmed.

“Go out and make sure all the civilians on the northern side of the city have been moved to safe houses elsewhere, should any remain,” Vhalla ordered. “Then head south. Implore those who are in command there to split their forces and push through the city to defend and help those to the north.”

“Understood,” the messenger agreed and raced back out into the night.

Vhalla massaged her shoulder, looking out into the darkness past the main entry of the government building. She wondered at the extent of the carnage. She wondered if her friends were all right.

A soldier stumbled in, hunched over.

“If you can walk, head to the right,” Vhalla instructed absent-mindedly.

“Good to see you, too.” Jax raised his head with a tired grin, his presence pulling Vhalla from her thoughts.

“Jax!” Vhalla sprinted over to the man. “Are you all right?”

“I’ve had better. I’ve had worse.” He slumped against her.

Vhalla caught sight of his back. It was in tatters. A deep gash ran from shoulder to waist, two others framing it on either side.

“I need a cleric!” Vhalla called, helping Jax into a chair in a nearby room.

Her order was heeded; a man quickly rushed in, assessing the state of Jax’s back. Vhalla quickly helped by cutting Jax’s shirt off his shoulders.

“Lady Yarl, I had no idea you held such affections.” Jax waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Cutting off another man’s clothes isn’t becoming of the future Empress.”