“Papa, it’s okay.” Vhalla tugged on her father’s arm, urging him to stand. Her father looked greatly uncertain still. “Aldrik is, well, I’m going to marry him.”
Her father looked between Vhalla and Aldrik, clearly struggling to process this.
Even Aldrik looked at her in surprise, but he collected himself quickly. “That is, sir, if you have no objections.”
The Emperor looked even more surprised when the Eastern man before him burst out laughing. “It’s Vhalla’s choice, not mine. I’m not the one you’re asking to wed. If she is happy, then I am happy.” He held out a hand to Aldrik. “Rex Yarl.”
“A pleasure to finally meet you, Rex.” Aldrik clasped hands with her father, and Vhalla had to remind herself that she wasn’t in some dream land. The Emperor was really shaking hands with her father.
“Where should we tie up the horses?” Jax asked.
“Oh, right. There should be enough space in and around the barn.” Vhalla looked up at the sky. “Doesn’t look like rain, so they should be fine on an outdoor tie.”
Elecia, Jax, and Fritz took the horses to tie, tactfully giving Vhalla, Aldrik, and her father some time alone.
She slipped her hand in the Emperor’s, his fingers folding against hers. “Let me show you my home.”
Her father still seemed nervous by Aldrik’s presence. He walked calmly enough at her left side, but he kept making occasional glances at Aldrik. Vhalla tried to gauge his expression from the corners of her eyes, which proved difficult. Just because she knew what she wanted and didn’t need her father’s approval, well, that didn’t mean she didn’t want it.
“These are the strawberry bushes Mama and I planted when I was little.” It was almost spring, and they already had tiny fruits nestled between their leaves.
“One spring, Vhalla ate them all in one afternoon,” her father spoke to Aldrik, looking at the plants fondly.
“I had such a stomach ache!” Vhalla laughed, remembering exactly the time her father spoke of.
Rex smiled at his daughter. “Your mother had no sympathy for you either.”
“She was so cross.”
“As was I. I wanted one of her berry tarts.” There was still a note of sorrow when he spoke of his deceased wife.
“She did make the best tarts,” Vhalla sighed wistfully.
Vhalla picked three of the fruits for each of them to try. They were tiny and somewhat bitter from not having ripened enough.
But, for Vhalla, they tasted of springs long past, seasoned sweetly by reminiscing.
Walking around the flagstone, they came across a tree that Vhalla had planted from an off-shoot of the old oak. She remembered it as nothing more than a tiny sapling, but it was now almost taller than she was.
There was the outdoor soaking barrel, where she and her mother had spent many an afternoon bathing. It wasn’t far from the outhouse. But they passed all these and headed for a low rectangular stone with a dish-like dip in the center of the top. Vhalla looked at the empty bowl thoughtfully.
“Mama.” Vhalla dusted the dirt around the edges, careful not to touch the inside of the dip. “You’re dirty; tell the Mother to send a good rain.”
“The plants could use it, too.” Her father slung an arm around Vhalla’s shoulder.
“Do you still miss her?” Vhalla asked one of their ritual questions.
“Of course, little bird. Every single day.” His longing was as palpable as his heavy sigh.
For the first time, Vhalla realized that she understood her father’s pain. She’d always thought she knew before, but she never had until now. Losing her mother was an exceptionally great pain, but of a different sort than losing the person who held the other part of her soul. Vhalla looked up at Aldrik.
“What was her name?” Aldrik asked.
“Dia,” Rex answered.
“Dia. That is a lovely name.” Aldrik turned back to the marker. “Dia, I realize you are aware, but your daughter has grown into one astounding woman, and I would be lost without her.”
“I’m sure she knows.” Rex squeezed Vhalla lovingly. “Just as I do.”
