“Papa!” The child within her was unleashed, that little girl who desperately wanted her father to hold her and say everything was all right. The girl who had been thrust into the world fearful and unknown. That girl finally won for the first time in months, and tears spilled onto Vhalla’s cheeks. “Papa, Papa, Papa . . .”
Her knees lost all their strength, they were suddenly world weary and exhausted. Her father gripped her upper arms, following her to the ground. They stared at each other in awe, the rest of the world utterly forgotten.
“You’re okay.”
“I should say that to you, little bird.” He pulled her in for a tight embrace.
“I’m sorry. I should have come home sooner. I should’ve been here. I became a lady. I sent coin. Did you get it?” It all spilled out, uncontrollable. “I wanted to come home, Father, but I did so many things. I didn’t even know who I was. I didn’t know what I wanted. But I know now, I know.”
“Hush.” Her father held her cheeks and smoothed away her tears. “You’re working yourself into a frenzy for no reason.”
Vhalla swallowed and nodded, the last of her tears escaping on a laugh. “I’m so happy to see you.” Worry had given birth to grief, which shattered in the face of joy.
“I am happy to see you.” He pulled her in for another tight hug. “Are you all right?”
“I am.”
“I heard so many stories, tall tales all focused on my little bird. I was worried, but I was proud.”
Vhalla sat back on her heels, rubbing her face. She felt foolish for crying so much when nothing was wrong. But, if anything, she cried because it was right and perfect and everything she hadn’t dared let herself hope for.
“Now.” Her father stood. “I am sure you have much to tell me, but let’s start with your companions.”
“Right.” Vhalla stood as well, having completely lost herself in her father being alive and well. “Well . . .” Her eyes scanned their rag-tag lot. It was actually a humorous sight. The disgraced lord, the Southern Sorcerer, the Western noble, and the Emperor.
“Fritz is my dear friend; we met in the Tower of Sorcerers.” Vhalla introduced her friends to her father in the order they dismounted. “He’s helped me countless times and is a really gifted Waterrunner.”
“Elecia is also my dear friend.” The woman in question looked startled that Vhalla would call her such. “She doesn’t let me get away with anything, Papa. She’s really gifted and strong, also.”
“Jax is—”
“Her personal guard,” the Western man finished.
Vhalla squinted at him, about to correct him that he, too, was a precious person to her.
But her father interjected, “Thank you for protecting my girl.”
“She’s pretty good at protecting herself.” Jax placed his hands on his hips, assessing her thoughtfully. “Just as good as she is at getting into trouble.”
“I can hear you, you know,” Vhalla remarked dryly.
“Oh, I know.” Jax grinned madly.
“You have certainly found interesting company to keep.” Her father chuckled and turned to the last remaining man in question. “And you are?”
Her chest tightened. Her Emperor? Her lord? Her prince? Her friend? Her lover? Her betrothed? Any of those titles could’ve fallen from Aldrik’s lips.
“My name is Aldrik,” he said simply.
Vhalla stilled, even Elecia looked surprised at Aldrik’s casual introduction.
“M-my lord.” Her father dropped to a knee in surprise.
Aldrik stared down at him for a long moment, before kneeling as well, so he could speak at eye-level. “Just Aldrik is fine.”
“No-no, I couldn’t,” her father protested. He had served in the military for years. Vhalla knew how engrained respect for nobility was in his mind. How he knew his place before his leaders and sovereigns. He knew it so well that he had been the one to teach it to her.
“I’m asking, please, simply Aldrik.” He spoke in a casual cadence and actually smiled.
