The building looked almost like a birdcage. Silverwork arched together, holding large panes of swirled glass upright as walls. At its apex stood a silver sun. Vhalla fidgeted with her fingers, thinking. She had only ever seen the blazing sun of the Empire crafted in gold.
The glass had a touch of fog to it. While she could make out hazy shapes and green blurs, it was impossible to discern what was inside from where she presently stood. Three silver steps led up to an arched door.
Her hand paused on the silver handle. Her heart was racing but she couldn’t place why.
Roses assaulted her senses upon entering. They grew along the outer walls and up a large central post. The temperature within the greenhouse-like structure was warm, perfectly kept for ensuring the Western crimson flowers stayed in bloom.
Her slippers did not make a sound as she walked lightly over to the pillar, inspecting one of the buds. Movement drew her attention past the stunning foliage to a silver bench in the back, opposite the door.
She was not alone.
A man sat hunched over an open ledger and seemed to be deeply engrossed in the notes he was taking. Vhalla’s blood ran cold, and she took a step back. This was not supposed to happen. Out of all the people in the world she was not meant to meet this man clad in black, with his slicked back hair and dark eyes.
Vhalla was debating how best to make her escape when his pen stopped and his chin slowly rose. His eyes widened, and his brow furrowed as his lips parted slightly in shock. The deep, rich voice that broke the silence made her teeth grind.
“Are you real?” Prince Aldrik whispered in obvious surprise.
WITH ANNOYANCE, VHALLAwiped the confusion off her face.
“Of course I’m real, and I was just leaving.” She turned, starting for the door.
“Wait!” He was on his feet, papers scattering across the floor. She looked back at his clumsy and haphazard movement. “Wait.”
“Is that an order, my prince?” Vhalla focused her gaze on the door handle. A quiet anger rose in her.
“Yes. No.No, it is not. If you want to go then go; but please, just—wait.” He sighed and ran a hand over his hair, adjusting his long double-breasted coat.
“Why?” she demanded. Vhalla half-turned toward him, her hand still on the door handle.
“Because,” he cleared his throat, attempting to continue with more conviction, “I want to talk to you.”
“And if I don’t want to talk to you?” she sighed.
“Then go.” He stood, his posture slack. When she made no motion in his direction, he knelt and began to pick up his papers.
Vhalla stood in limbo, watching this strange, frustrating, and infuriating man on the floor, collecting his scattered parchment. With another soft sigh, the apprentice within got the better of her, and Vhalla walked over to kneel across from her prince, collecting a few papers within reach and holding them out expectantly.
He looked up at her and took the papers from her hands, his jaw slightly slack and lips parted.
She waited for a moment. Receiving nothing she stood and turned for the door, frustrated. What had she expected? He was a prince, and—if the palace gossip was to be believed—he never thought of anyone beyond himself.
“I am sorry.” It was so soft she barely heard it over the rustling of the trees. Vhalla held the halfway open door. Surely she’d only imagined it, she took another step. “Vhalla,I am sorry.”
She turned slowly, looking back at him, one foot outside, one foot in. The words sunk into her, and she waited to see if they could be enough to soothe the anger she felt toward the black-clad man.
“I should not have lashed out at you, magically or verbally, as I did,” he continued. There was a spark in his eyes that was pleading with her for something she didn’t know if she could give. “I was eager—and foolish. I did not think of how it would affect you.”
Vhalla took a step back in, closing the door behind her and leaning against it for much needed support.
“I am certain you have heard all of the stories about me.” Prince Aldrik rested his folio on the bench behind him. Vhalla wondered why he seemed unable to meet her eyes. “I assure you, they are all true. I am not exactly versed in, in...” He paused, looking for words.
“In creating real relationships with people?” Vhalla finished spitefully. If he wanted to cast her from the palace for her lack of proper decorum, he would have already. She had no idea why he didn’t. But Vhalla was ready to find out and wash her hands of royalty.
“I have hurt you with my words—and actions. I know that. And, it likely means nothing to you to say that I did not intend to.” He sighed, looking away.
“They say you are the silver-tongued prince.” Her voice was fainter than she would’ve liked. “You already spoke me onto a ledge. How can I believe you now?”
“Because there are things you do not know about us,” Prince Aldrik responded cryptically.
