North lowered herself demurely into the chair beside Vali. Chair was a loose term for the stump she sat on. There wasn’t much room for luxury on the road, and they had nearly run out of the minimal supplies they’d managed to grab while fleeing.
“I keep thinking about Henny and Bo and wondering if they would be better at this than I will be.”
“But the crown chose you,” North said softly.
“How do you know?”
“I recognize the burden—the weight on your shoulders.”
Vali shook his head. “We won’t know who the crown passes to until we reach the palace.”
Two firstborn heirs sat together, both with siblings who would have made great leaders. North was still convinced that Westley would do a fine job. He’d proven over the past year that he was capable of growth. Easta thrived in chaos and would surely keep her head under the dire circumstances they found themselves in.
But deep down, North understood that it was she who held the responsibility of her realm.
“You and I both know that you were born to be king. Even Steffen ...” North’s voice trailed off as sadness crept back into Vali’s eyes.
“He would have made a great king,” Vali lamented, his voice rough with grief.
“Then you will do him proud,” North said, placing her hand over his. “But first, we have to actually get to Alfheim.”
“Do me a favour?” he asked, eyes pleading.
North knew better than to say yes without first knowing what the favour was. At her silence, Vali continued.
“Don’t tell them I got us lost, and do not tell them you knew the way out.”
North chuckled at his self-deprecation—she could save him this embarrassment. She nodded. “Of course, Your Majesty, as long as you stop putting up a fight and actually let me help you.”
“Deal,” he said with a smile.
They reached Alfheim the next day, thankfully without encountering any unicorns on their way. Why Vali had even mentioned them, North didn’t know—in her realm, they were deadly omens, only seen at the end of one’s life.
North released a sigh of relief when they entered the palace city. It gleamed, untouched by Ragnvald’s shadows and free of his hold. For now.
If she wasn’t mistaken, as soon as Vali’s feet touched the ground, the day became brighter, as if the city was acknowledging her new king.
Henny and Bo came out to embrace their brother. Their red-rimmed eyes told North they already knew of the loss of their mother and brother—Vali’s letter must have reached them.
They were ushered into the palace with such speed that North was unable to enjoy the beauty of the Elven craftsmanship until they were shown to their rooms. Pale greens and an array of earthy neutrals decorated the space, wrapping her in an otherworldly oasis free from the destruction she’d brought about.
The plush rugs cushioned her bare feet as she allowed herself a moment to breathe. It would have been easier to do had she not been coated in a week’s worth of travel after a bloody slaughter.
She soaked in a luxurious bath, wiping away the evidence of her failure. She laid her head against the tub and tried to think of what to do next. Visions of the bloodied throne room danced in her mind.
At the sound of a knock on the door, her heart leapt into her throat. She reached over and grasped the hilt of her sword.
“Come in,” she said as steadily as she could.
Vali poked his head in, and North slumped back into the tub with an exhale. “Solveig told me you had a habit of conversing with people trying to bathe.”
He smiled, trying to avert his eyes—and failing miserably. She subtly moved her hands under the water to cover herself. The bubbles hid most of her body, but she wouldn’t chance the possibility that he’d remain long enough for them to begin dissipating.
“I was thinking,” he said slowly, like he was approaching a cornered animal.
“Oh no,” she said cautiously. The relief she’d felt only a moment ago vanished, replaced with trepidation. She had no idea what the strange look on his face meant.
He grabbed a stool and pulled it up beside her bath.
