“You knew.” Betrayal was a hot poison. “You knew and you didn’t tell me?”

“Vhalla, listen,” Larel demanded, pinning her to the bed with an arm. “Listen.”

Vhalla stopped fighting, but that didn’t stop the anger pulsing through her veins. The world was out to lie and cheat her; maybe Prince Baldair was right.

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t believe—I still don’t believe—that you have anything to worry about.”

“How can you say that? She’s a noble woman, she’s known him for years—I saw them together!”

“Hush.” Larel tried to calm Vhalla’s hysterics. “When you are together, Aldrik looks for you, only for you.”

“He spent a lot of time with her.”

“He did,” Larel conceded. “But he never looked at her the way he looks at you. He never reached for her the way he reaches for you. Vhalla, Aldrik cares for you deeply, I know he does.”

“You don’t know anything,” Vhalla mumbled.

Larel just sighed and rubbed Vhalla’s back as the younger woman cried softly.

Vhalla was shocked later when a messenger brought her an Imperial summons. It was a tri-folded card sealed with the blazing sun of the Empire in black wax.

“Are you going to open it?” Larel asked after Vhalla’s tenth lap of the room.

“I will,” she said with false confidence.

“Today?” Larel had the audacity to tease her.

Vhalla shot the other woman a glare, and Larel was only moderately apologetic. The Westerner hadn’t changed her tune that Aldrik had no interest in Elecia.

“I will,” Vhalla repeated, placing her finger under the seal. She took a breath and unfolded the note before her hands dropped it from shaking so much. “Your presence is requested,” she read aloud. “Prince Aldrik C. Solaris.”

“That’s it?” Even Larel seemed surprised.

“It’s better this way.” Vhalla threw the note onto her pack, rummaging through the clothes on the floor that had never made it into drawers. “It is. I’ll go and tell him I know everything.”

“Vhalla,” Larel sighed.

“We can stop this sham, and I’ll just do what I need to for my freedom,” Vhalla vowed, tugging on a clean shirt and leggings.

They walked down the stairs in silence, Larel seeing her out of the inn and all the way to the fancy hotel where the Imperial family was staying. Vhalla spent the walk attempting to shield her heart as much as possible. She imagined each rib a barbed wall that nothing could enter into or get out of. She would do whatever Aldrik and the Emperor needed, and then she would go. She didn’t even want to bring up what she’d seen. It wasn’t her business after all; she had trespassed on his privacy.

By the time Vhalla arrived at the glittering building on the main square, she had scripted and repeated so many conversations in her head that she felt prepared for every possible outcome. No matter what, she would keep it together and leave as quickly as possible. Yet none of this stopped her heart from threatening to burst out of its thorny cage as she pushed open the door, leaving Larel behind.

“How may I assist?” the woman behind the desk asked stiffly.

“I’ve an appointment with the crown prince.” Vhalla didn’t allow herself to say his name. “Vhalla Yarl, the Windwalker.”

The woman pulled out the same ledger as the man from the night before and ran her finger down the pages. “Ah yes. Go ahead—second floor, right wing,” the woman instructed needlessly. Vhalla had already started up the stairs.

Each step coincided with the pounding in her ears. Every scrap of common sense screamed for her to leave a message that she was indisposed. But she knew she could only run so long. In four more days they would be riding together, with Elecia too.

Vhalla paused and took a deep breath, focusing only on the sound of the air moving. She could do this.

Arriving at the landing, she stilled. Vhalla shook away the image of Elecia and Aldrik standing in the night and proceeded to the door. With the last of her resolve, she gave a few short knocks.

It was a tense minute as she waited; she was fully prepared to make a hasty retreat and explain she thought he was out. The door handle turned. Aldrik stood against the colored light of large stained glass circles that dominated the wall opposite the door. He wore a black leather jacket that went to his knees with a single line of gold buttons opened at the collared white cotton shirt underneath. Well-fitted trousers fell straight to bare feet, Vhalla noted curiously. His hair was fixed again, and just the sight of him was painful because it now contrasted so sharply from the disheveled man who had been woken from sleep, likely from lying in the arms of his lover.

“Hello, Vhalla.” He seemed as happy to see her as she was him.

“My prince,” Vhalla glanced away, unable to keep eye contact any longer.

“Come in.” He took a step back and turned.

Vhalla let herself into the room, closing the door softly behind her.

It was an astounding space. High ceilings with mosaics of classic stories along with some characters Vhalla had never before seen. There was a large sitting area with two lounging chaises that faced a large couch, a table between them. A stocked bar dominated the wall to the left of the door—Vhalla instantly wished for something strong—and a large standing table with all manner of papers and uncorked bottles was to the right. To her left was a wall with open sliding doors that revealed an additional room with a large bed covered in blankets and pillows. Perhaps the most astounding feature was a window, which was one she had seen from the square. It was big enough that pillows were piled up on the windowsill, and it looked like it could easily seat four.

Vhalla took another tentative step, instantly uncomfortable being in his space. She couldn’t help but look at the bed, wondering if Elecia had shared it with him the night before. Aldrik had crossed to the table and was shuffling the papers.

“You are quiet.” He glanced at her from the corners of his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she replied, unsure of what else to say.

“Sit,” he ordered curtly.

Vhalla waded through the tension between them, nearly drowning before she managed to sit on one of the chaises. Aldrik found the paper he was looking for, placing it on the lower table before the couch as he sat opposite her. They stared at each other, waiting for someone to say the first word. Vhalla swallowed.

“This is for the demonstration? For your father?” Work, she had to stick to work.

“What else would it be for?” he mumbled, the words like needles.

“Of course,” Vhalla replied weakly.

“My father will want us to play a game of scavenger hunt.” Aldrik looked at the paper as though it was the most fascinating thing in the world. “Based off what I told him you are able to do at present, first he will have you Project to a person who will tell you a location and an item. You will return to me and direct me to something—unknown to me at the start of the demonstration—based on the instructions.”

“It seems simple enough.” She nodded.

“Does it?” Aldrik arched an eyebrow at her.

Vhalla shifted under his skepticism. “We’ve been doing things like this for weeks.”

“What exactly have we been doing, Vhalla?” Aldrik’s voice was void of any familiar warmth.

She didn’t know how to answer. He wasn’t asking about the Projection, he was asking about the dance they’d been doing around something both of them had been too terrified to name. Now, it felt like he was accusing her.

“Never mind.” Aldrik stood. “Do not answer that. I already know.”

“What?” She was on her feet also. “What do you think you know?”

“You think I would not find out?” He glared at her.

“Find out what?” Vhalla’s voice had a shrill edge from the tension his eyes evoked in her.

“You are not the first one who has used me to get to him.” Aldrik looked away in disgust.