“You didn’t think running it by your bride would be important?” Vhalla gave her Emperor a small glare.
“Vhalla, now is not the time.”
“When will the time be? The next time we are speaking to a member of your family?” she muttered.
“Tonight.” He leaned forward, making it impossible for her not to meet his eyes. “Tonight, my Vhalla—”
“Your honeyed words have no effect on me, Emperor Solaris,” Vhalla lied.
The arrogant royal knew it, too, judging by the small smile he gave her. “I promise we will speak on it tonight.”
“If you promise,” she sighed, letting the topic go for the time being.
Hastan was quiet. Despite having more people, more shops, more buildings, more everything than all the small farm towns they’d travelled through, it was so quiet that the wind sounded loud. Vhalla stared back at the men and women who looked upon them, curious but reserved. She tried to smile reassuringly, but it didn’t seem to help. At least it didn’t hurt.
The main government building of Hastan was a large, circular structure at the end of the East-West Way. The builders had chosen a circle to signify that all was made equal in that there were no sides. It had only one floor for much the same reason. The fact had never stuck out to her in all her reading, but after seeing so much of the world, she had never appreciated her own history or culture more.
“Back again?” A farmer who had been dressed up to look like a guard—and was failing—yawned from the doorway. “She’s not going to see you twice in one day.”
“Inform the senator that the Emperor wishes to meet with her.” Vhalla made mental notes about how Aldrik put strength behind his words. How he could make a statement, said calmly, seem like both an order from a friend and a threat from a ruler.
“The Emperor is dead.”
“The father, but not the son,” Vhalla clarified.
The man looked at her, as if for the first time. “You’re not one of them.”
“I am. As are you. We are all the Solaris Empire. An Empire of the Sun for its people, for peace.”
“Who are you?”
“Vhalla Yarl.”
By the way he reacted, she would’ve thought she had told the man that she was the chaos dragon, burst free from the Father’s prison in the night sky. The man stumbled back, holding his shirt over his chest in surprise. He stared at her for a long moment, ignoring the presence of the man who had proclaimed himself the true Emperor.
“You . . . You come with me.” The man started for the door. “The rest of you stay.”
“Excuse me?” the Lord Ci’Dan balked.
“The senator said no more Westerners, but I will take the Windwalker to her.” The farmer-guard paused at the door.
“The Emperor will come with me,” Vhalla insisted.
“Unnecessary.” Aldrik rested his hand lightly on her arm, summoning her attention. “Once the senator meets with you, I’m confident she will be willing to hold an audience with the rest of us.”
Vhalla paused, stuck in limbo. Aldrik had such confidence in her. It thrilled her. It terrified her. But she was becoming the woman she had hoped—because it was more elating than frightening.
“Very well.” Vhalla nodded. She caught his hand, briefly lacing her fingers against his. “I’ll go, and come back once I’ve gained an audience for you all.”
She followed the guard into an entry room, it arched slightly with the curve of the building. They crossed through it, passing a long hall.
“You believe me?” she asked.
“I do,” the man affirmed with minimal hesitation. “No one in their right mind would admit to being Vhalla Yarl if they weren’t actually Vhalla Yarl.”
Vhalla laughed, unable to argue. Claiming she was Vhalla Yarl was a virtual death sentence in the world they lived. He led her through another doorway into the center of the building. A circular auditorium descended three levels into the earth. Sun shades were pulled back from an open roof, letting in the sunlight. A woman, with brown hair that grayed at the ears, looked up from where she was toiling over some letters spread out at a circular table.
“Who is this?” The question was pointed, but not sharp nor unkind.
