were written across his face, and he focused only on hers. He exhibited no spark of want or desire. Vhalla saw Larel’s spirit in her friend as he helped her into the steaming tub.
He hovered beside her, lathering soap into her locks with a soothing touch. Vhalla stared at her palms. The water was already a dingy color from the soot and grime that was on her. A small voice counseled that she should feel guilty for her part in staying with Aldrik, but Vhalla couldn’t evoke the emotion. He had needed her.
“Has the Emperor come into the Tower?” The hot water had calmed her enough to think rationally.
“No.” Fritz placed some hair over her shoulder as he began to brush the next section.
“What have you heard?” She needed to know if she was going to calculate what was next. “Tell me true, Fritz.”
“That Prince Baldair has died. That the Windwalker and Prince Aldrik ran off together in a fit of grief,” he listed.
Vhalla laughed softly. “It’s actually true, for once.”
“They say the North will be up in arms about it.” Fritz sighed. “Though, most people seemed to be more amused or surprised, but not upset.”
“Should I find consolation in that?” It was interesting, however, that the people seemed to consent to the crown prince and the Hero of the North being together.
“You should find consolation in anything you can,” he answered honestly.
“How did you know I was here? Aldrik?”
“Elecia.” Fritz surprised her. “Aldrik told her because she can move more easily than he can right now. She sent me though, rather than coming here herself because, well, eyes are still on her also.”
“Is Aldrik okay?”
“I’m not sure.” Fritz shook his head. “Elecia left to go back to him, to try to help things with him. Rinse your hair.”
Vhalla did as he instructed. She washed her body next, and the conversation died during that act. Vhalla emerged when the bathwater began to cool, Fritz dutifully wrapping her in a towel. The cloth smelled as though it had been hanging for too long but there was still a lingering, comforting scent of Aldrik to it.
She was forced to rummage through his drawers until she found a stash of clothes. Vhalla didn’t have much to choose from, so she just picked what looked the warmest. As to be expected, it swam on her, and the waist of the trousers fell around her hips.
“What happened?” Fritz asked as they sat at the table. He grabbed the sack he’d dropped earlier from the floor and produced three rolls with meat.
“You have most of it already. Baldair died, I was there.” She stared at the food blankly.
“Eat,” Fritz insisted.
Vhalla forced herself to oblige. “After, it’s just as they say. Aldrik ran, he took me with him. We hid in his room.”
“Did you . . .?” Fritz asked slowly.
“We were a comfort to each other, but not in that way.” Vhalla said firmly, proud she could look her friend in the eye and say it.
“Good.” Fritz seemed equally pleased as he stood. “Try to get some rest. You look dead on your feet.”
“You’re leaving?” She stood also.
“I have to. It’s not good for me to go missing too long. Grahm agreed to be an alibi if I need one.” Fritz gave her a tired smile. “But it’s still not a good idea to push things. No point in rousing suspicions within the Tower.”
“Right.” Vhalla grabbed his hands. “Fritz, thank you, for everything.”
“Of course, Vhal. It will work out, I’m sure it will.” Her friend’s confidence sounded false, but the final squeeze he gave her before leaving certainly wasn’t.
With the metallic sound of the lock sliding back into place, she was alone again in the room. Vhalla sighed heavily. There were books, but she didn’t want to read. There was some kind of closet or storeroom through the other door. But it was dark, and she didn’t feel too inquisitive.
In the end, Vhalla collapsed onto the bed, her face buried in the pillow. But she didn’t cry. She didn’t like feeling isolated and alone. Her mind was already churning with plans for what she could suggest when Aldrik returned.
For the third time in one day, a knock awoke her. The trend was exhausting, and on her way to the door, she peaked out the curtains, discovering it was nearly sunset.
“What is most beautiful just before it dies?” she asked through the door.
There was a long pause. “A rose.”
Vhalla twisted the lock and looked at a familiar set