Air Awakens Book One (29 page)

“You didn’t think I’d walk in with you, did you?” The man turned with a chuckle. “Good luck, Lady of the Common Folk.”

Vhalla stood dumbly watching the man walk away. She listened to the sounds drifting up through the doors. It sounded like half the city was in that bright and mysterious ballroom. Vhalla looked down the opposite end of the hall. A few people were making their way up, but nothing would stop her from turning and running back to her room.

Taking a step away from the doors, she looked at where the servant had disappeared. This wasn’t her. She wasn’t some lady from a foreign land. She was Vhalla Yarl, the farmer’s daughter whom no one expected to be able to read or write. Her feet stopped.

That wasn’t all she was. Vhalla turned and started for the doors before her resolve failed her. She already had secrets. She was the first Windwalker. She was something the crown prince had claimed he would protect. Vhalla’s toes stopped at the edge of the light in the doorframe. She didn’t yet know what she was about to blossom into, but it was far greater than a library girl.

“Are you ready?” the servant asked softly.

“Yes. No.” Vhalla swallowed and nodded. “Yes.”

“Listen to the name I say.” He took a step out into the light, drawing a deep breath. “Presenting, Lady Rose.”

Vhalla stepped out into the light and was almost blinded. If one full-length mirror had been overwhelming, the walls of the mirror ballroom were enough to make her feel dizzy. A long stairway challenged her footing, and Vhalla descended, trying to keep a smile on her face.

The room was reduced to hushed whispers, even though the ambient music continued. People were multiplied by the reflective walls and Vhalla began to feel her resolve diminish under all the prying eyes. Why had Baldair chosen the name Rose? It clearly was a fake name. Who was actually named after a flower?

She walked slowly, determined not to fall, her eyes darting throughout the room as she tried to hear the hushed words from the crowd.

They were not whispering about the name, Vhalla quickly realized. It looked as though all the colors of the library’s stained glass ceiling had come to life. Vibrant hues dotted the large dance floor waiting beneath her. Southern blue seemed to be the preferred shade, with a few reds of the West; there were even purples of the East sprinkled in. There were no other dark colors.

Vhalla scanned the crowd almost frantically until her eyes fell on a white marble dais far opposite the stairs. There, standing with the royal family was a prince, her prince. Although the rest of the royal family wore gold and white silks, he stood all in black, as if a waiting counterpart for her ensemble.

Aldrik’s face was dumbstruck. He hadn’t even noticed, or didn’t care, that his jaw had fallen loose. Vhalla smiled brightly at his wide eyes as she walked over to the royal family. The crown prince gaped at her openly the whole way.

T
HE WHOLE ROOM
faded away. The high society could keep their judgments and jeers; they would not touch Vhalla tonight. For several long steps the only person she saw was him, the only judgment that mattered was his—and it felt amazing. The smoldering pair of dark eyes hungrily fed on her every movement.

Alone, she approached the dais and stopped at ground level. Vhalla attempted to dip gracefully into a curtsy, just as Baldair taught her. She had no doubt that one day of training would not make her a graceful swan of high society, but she didn’t fall upon her nose. That was good enough. Vhalla began a mantra in her head to get her though the night,
smile, grace, pose, float, smile
.

“Welcome to our Gala, Lady Rose,” the Emperor boomed warmly, not unlike Prince Baldair she thought amusingly. Vhalla tried to find Aldrik in the muscular and weathered man. She tried to imagine Emperor Solaris without the closely cropped beard along his jaw, seeing if she could see any of the eldest prince’s striking features. “We hope you enjoy the celebrations.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Vhalla kept her eyes averted. She had just become accustomed to speaking with princes. The idea of exchanging words with the Emperor himself was still much.

“Baldair,” the Empress’s voice interrupted. “I thought you told me you invited this one yourself.”

“I did,” Baldair announced loud enough to earn some not so subtle stares from a group of ladies at Vhalla’s right.

“Did you not also inform her what was proper to wear to a gala?” the Empress sniffed in her airy tones. Nothing about her speech sounded like Aldrik. “Lady Rose, my son is well versed in fashions, you should have taken his input to heart.”

Vhalla opened her mouth, unsure of what to say. The whispers around her resumed, and her tongue had gone fat and limp. Cerulean eyes stared her down.

“I think she looks stunning.” Aldrik finally spoke and his voice was soothing to Vhalla’s sizzling nerves. Their eyes met and the corner of his mouth curled up slightly as he looked at her. Vhalla looked down again to hide a blush.

“Oh my, dear,” the Empress turned to the Emperor in a hush. “See, he is a bad influence. People will begin to think such dress is acceptable.”

“Come, let us relax and enjoy our evenings.” The Emperor dismissed his wife, as well as Vhalla, with a wave of his hand.

Pleased to no longer be the center of attention, Vhalla fled quickly to the outer edge of the room. People parted to make way for her, though no one addressed her directly. She dared a look back at Aldrik, who was greeting the guest announced after her.

He looked closed off again and sounded curt, but she savored the image of his face in her mind, replaying that stunned look again and again. If she went back to her room right now, the evening would be a success. As the sky grew darker outside, more of the finer players in society began to filter in. Vhalla pretended to be interested in their greetings to the royal family, but really it was an excuse to look at Aldrik.

He wore a long black, double-breasted coat. It fell to right above his knees and had a slit in the back for movement. It was unbuttoned at the top and a perfect triangle was pinned open to show a white-collared shirt with a wide, black necktie that was tucked into a vest beneath his jacket.

It wasn’t quite like the neck ruffles some of the men were sporting, but it did have a bit of volume to it. The jacket was stitched with patterns of the sun, all in black that caught the light perfectly as he moved. Golden rope decorated his cuffs and arms. Beneath he wore a pair of black trousers—Vhalla was beginning to grow suspicious if he actually owned any other color—with more golden piping down the sides. His normal boots were replaced with well-polished, black dancing shoes. Aldrik’s hair was the same as he’d always worn it, save for a golden circlet that was simple in design, a flat rectangular band across his brow.

She found she much preferred his fashion to the colors and pomp of everyone else. Even Prince Baldair had ruffles coming out of his sleeves and peeking out around his coat, ruffles that bounced when he moved; the Southern styles made Vhalla want to laugh.

From time to time, Aldrik would glance in her direction. She’d give him a small smile in reply and enjoy the heated darkness of his eyes. After the formalities had been exchanged and most the guest list was in attendance, the Emperor called for the Gala to begin.

The minstrels paused, adjusted their instruments, and picked up a new tune. Vhalla attempted to count the beat as the golden prince had told her to do, but she was hopeless at the technical aspects of music. Instead she simply hummed along to the instrumental of a classic Southern ballad and tapped her foot as the dance floor filled. She didn’t even notice the royal family had stepped off their pedestal until Prince Baldair was upon her.

“My lady, fairer than the flower of her namesake, will you grant me the honor of this dance?” All his charm was mustered as he dipped into a half bow. Vhalla blinked at the idea of a prince bowing to her. He looked up expectantly at her silence.

“The first dance?” she hissed nervously. Suddenly aware of how many eyes were on her, Vhalla quickly nodded. It was only the expected thing to do when a prince asked you to dance. “Of course, my prince.”

Vhalla curtsied and a calloused hand pulled her onto the dance floor. It was the dance he had taught her, three steps and repeat. Vhalla struggled to remember his steps but her feet did little more than clumsily shuffle along.

Luckily, Prince Baldair had years of training and was a stunning dancer. He guided her effortlessly, navigating her across and between other dancers as they turned. His showmanship made up for her clumsy feet, so much so that she actually felt like she could dance. His hands were gentle and soft as they guided her and his arms supportive to prevent her from falling.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“You promised me a dance.” He flashed her a dazzling smile.

“Yes but, everyone is watching.” Vhalla glanced over his shoulders at the people lining the dance floor.

“What else would they do?” Baldair chuckled, extending his arm. Vhalla turned as expected before he drew her close once more. He smelled of something warm, like vanilla, and Vhalla wondered if he could smell the sweet perfumes that the servant girls had applied behind her ears. There was no question as he leaned in, his breath ruffling her hair over her ear. “If you walk into this Gala in black, you will leave the-strange-lady-that-knew-nothing. Dancing with the Heartbreaker Prince for his first dance? That makes you a dark and mysterious woman everyone wants to meet.”

He pulled away, and Vhalla looked up at him, allowing the rest of the room to dissolve for one moment. Her feet moved without thought, and she simply looked at the man who led her across the floor.

If she had more time to get to know the man known as Heartbreaker, what she would learn?

“Smile, Vhalla. You’re stunning when you do,” the prince encouraged with a smile of his own, and Vhalla relaxed under his hands.

They danced the rest of the song and halfway into the next before there was a tap on his shoulder.

“My prince, may I cut in?” A gentleman gave a small bow. Prince Baldair pulled her close to his side by her waist; he leaned in dramatically as if he was sharing some dark secret.

“I told you so,” he whispered in her ear. Then he continued more loudly, “You may, good sir, but only so long as I do not see you acting a fool, or I shall have to claim the lady back from you!” Both men chuckled and Vhalla was passed along.

She danced with three more men she had never met, all of whom seemed nice enough and complimented her attire. They seemed fascinated with who she was and where she was from, apparently looking to pin the color choice on some foreign and peculiar cultural difference. She answered as vaguely as possible, keeping the illusion. For one night she could be this mysterious lady.

Four songs later, the band struck up a large group dance in which people were paired at random before turning, circling, doing a small dance, and exchanging partners. After her first two partners Vhalla found herself eye to eye with the Head Elect of the Senate.

“Lady Rose,” Egmun smiled as their palms and forearms touched. They circled around each other. “Or should I call you Vhalla Yarl?”

He gripped her hand and pulled her to him roughly. Vhalla made a small squeak of surprise but everything else was lost as the man leaned in close to her. She was trapped between decorum and a sincere wish to push the man away with force.

“Look at you, playing the part of a proper lady. But we both know who you really are.” He held her too closely; she needed air. “Just a library girl, a commoner of low birth and no title to speak of. Then again,” he sneered at her as they linked arms, “you’re not just a library girl, you’re a library girl who takes secret lunches with the emotionally stinted crown prince.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Vhalla looked at the other couples dancing around them, praying they weren’t overheard.

“Oh, don’t play ignorant. Tell me, is
Lady Rose
Prince Baldair’s pet and Vhalla Yarl Prince Aldrik’s?” Vhalla’s mouth fell open. “I’ve hardly even seen the crown prince with a woman, and I have known him for quite a few years more than you. Are you someone special? Tell me, has Prince Aldrik finally taken another lover?”

Vhalla’s cheeks flushed against every scrap of will she had, and the Senator watched each growing shade of red with a dangerous glint to his eye. Taking a deep breath she shook her head and dug deep for her diminishing supply of courage.

“Please excuse me, Senator, I fear I have overheated from all the dancing,” Vhalla announced boldly.

“Certainly.” The senator released her, save for her hand; she fought a grimace as his lips brushed upon its back. “Perhaps you may retreat into the gardens for some air. I hear those dressed in black prefer the darkness.”

The music shifted and partners changed. Vhalla stepped out of the dancing reel. She couldn’t stop herself from looking back. Egmun was smiling and carrying on as though nothing had happened. Vhalla started for the balcony that overlooked the water gardens. She felt a pair of eyes on her back, lifting the hairs at the nape of her neck. She turned, but couldn’t find anyone’s gaze to pin it upon. Vhalla brought her hands together and fidgeted as she plunged through the crowd and into the mostly unpopulated night.