“You-you agreed to take the throne knowing it’d never come to pass!”
Her heart stopped.Baldair agreed to Aldrik abdicating his birthright to him?
“You gave me hope, you bastard!” Aldrik turned up his gaze, and the flames turned white hot.
Vhalla saw the dazzling library that spiraled above them, likely housing countless precious works, given their collector. She realized—in horror—that he was going to burn the books. She opened her Channel and took a deep breath.
Her clothing singed as the fire burned up his forearms and she threw her arms around him. The flames were warm, hotter than any other time they had ever tested their Bond. But the fire didn’t burn her. Vhalla clung to his waist, her face buried in his chest.
“Vhalla . . .” The flames vanished, and his arms crushed her against him. “Vhalla, I—I am a monster.”
He let her go suddenly, and she swayed without the support. Vhalla watched him listlessly take in the charred remains of the room. She knew he was replaying in his mind the acerbic words he’d just uttered against his brother.
“You’re not a monster,” she soothed gently. “Hurting, yes. Scared, yes. But not a monster.”
“Baldair died because of me . . . I am a curse to anyone who would ever dare care for me.”
“You’re not.” The way he cringed away when she approached him nearly broke her heart.
“Don’t, Vhalla. Don’t come near me, or I will curse you further.” Whatever madness grew in his heart that made him say those words had taken root there long ago. He believed it completely.
Vhalla moved with purpose, taking his face in both her hands and forcing him to look at her. “Aldrik,stop,” she demanded softly. “Don’t push me away, don’t even try. The opportunity for it came and went; I didn’t take it. You promised you wouldn’t.”
“And you promised not to let me,” he whispered in reply. His hands went up to hers, and Vhalla saw his eyes glisten once more. Tears spilled over his high cheeks and onto her fingers. “You don’t know.”
“I don’t know what?”
Aldrik swayed and took her hand. He led her purposefully into the other room, seating her between the hearth and the low table at their backs. Vhalla made it a point not to look at the papers scattered upon it.
Flames sparked to life in the fireplace, and Aldrik looked to them for answers. “Where do I start with this?”
“We don’t have to do this now.” Whatever it was, it seemed to be the source of great pain for him, which was the last thing he needed.
“We do,” he insisted. “Baldair, brother of my flesh, died and never knew the truth. I won’t let the same happen to you.”
“I’m not going to die, at least not for a long time.” She attempted a reassuring smile.
“I have seen it.”
“Seen what?”
“Your death.” Aldrik looked at her as though she was already swathed in burning cloth for the Rite of Sunset.
“What?” The word was little more than a breath.
“I have seen it, but I will do all I can to prevent it.” His hands were on her face, as if reminding himself that she was real. “I will fight the Mother herself to keep you safe.”
“You’re not making any sense . . .” That fact didn’t make her any less frightened.
“I saw it in a dream.”
“It’s small wonder your dreams are consumed with death, with Baldair as he was.” Vhalla had her fair share of nights consumed with death.
“They’re not just dreams.” The shadow of fear darkened his expression. “Vhalla, I can see your future.”
“What? That makes no sense.”
“Firebearers can see the future in flames.”
