A finger poked at her cheek. She groaned, rolling away from the source.
“Let her sleep,” Larel scolded.
“But she’s slept thewhole day,and it’s our first real night in the Crossroads,” Fritz whined.
“You two are so loud,” Vhalla cursed softly.
“Oneof us is,” Larel corrected with an offended note.
“Vhal, don’t you want to wake up?” Fritz crawled into bed with her.
“No.” She didn’t feel like it in the slightest. After Aldrik and Prince Baldair that morning, and the Emperor’s proclamations and demands, she had half a mind to spend the rest of her life in bed.
“What’s wrong, Vhal? The world is celebrating you right now, you need to celebrate with them.” Fritz grabbed her with both arms, sitting her up.
Larel took the opportunity of Vhalla being upright to coax two elixirs down Vhalla’s throat.
“So, we’re all going out.” Fritz crawled around the bed, situating himself in front of her.
“Out?”
“He got the idea from your friends in the Golden Guard.” Larel sat on the edge of the bed. It wasn’t a large piece of furniture, and they were all crowded around each other. “They’re going out to celebrate their first full night in the Crossroads. Apparently there’s to be some celebration in the Windwalker’s honor.”
“In my honor?” Vhalla blinked.
“Yes, in yours.” Larel beamed. “You saved hundreds of lives—understand that.”
Vhalla nodded mutely.
“We want you to come.” Fritz grabbed her hands.
“We?” Vhalla looked to Larel. She couldn’t imagine Larel partying in the streets.
“I’ve nothing else to do,” the woman laughed lightly. “And the Windwalker they are honoring happens to be my protégé. It’d be a shame if I didn’t at least have one drink in her honor.”
“Will you come with us?” Fritz asked again.
“I ...” Vhalla sighed, looking at the setting sun through her curtains. She thought of Aldrik and the Emperor once more, conspiring in that opulent palace of a building. A small spark of anger flared in her, and Vhalla gripped Fritz’s fingers. “I’d love to.”
“Are you sure you feel well enough?” Larel sensed something was wrong, but the other woman seemed to be mistaking Vhalla’s wild emotions over the prince for physical pain caused by her injuries.
“I’ve felt worse.” Vhalla put on a brave smile. “Who knows, perhaps the company could do me good?”
It would have been more convincing if she didn’t dissolve into a coughing fit. But Fritz was her champion for the evening, linking elbows with her and helping Vhalla into the hall and down the stairs. Larel must have agreed with the assessment because she didn’t object.
Once her body was moving, Vhalla found she felt better, proving her physical wounds were superficial. They likely had refrained from forcing any potions down her throat when she was unconscious; but now that the clerics’ concoctions were working, her body was rebounding quickly. No one was waiting for her outside the inn this time, and for that she was thankful. Vhalla didn’t want any more attention.
The Crossroads was a place unlike any Vhalla had ever seen. The capital was crowded, but not like this. It seemed like every person of every shape, shade, and size was crowded into the streets, and the streets were packed with tempting markets that didn’t seem to know what closing meant. The three went down a small side road, following the instruction Craig and Daniel had given Fritz.
The bar was noisy, and the sounds of men and women singing, laughing, and talking drowned out any of Vhalla’s thoughts and doubts. She was in a foreign land as a celebrated hero. And, if Fritz and Larel were to be believed, the source of all these people’s joy was she. Even if that was only half true, Vhalla had vowed to live in spite of the Senate, and she now vowed to be happy in spite of whatever game the Imperial family was playing.
“You guys made it!” Craig waved them over.
Daniel was out of his chair the moment he saw them. He crossed to Vhalla in a step. “How do you feel?”
“Better,” she answered sincerely.
“I didn’t expect to see you out.” He somehow wedged himself between her and Fritz.
