“To thank you, I am sure,” Prince Baldair answered.

“She needs her rest,” Aldrik objected.

“Surely she has to eat?” the younger prince protested.

“I’m not in a state that is fit to see—” Vhalla paused; she couldn’t say “royalty” as half of the Imperial family was before her. “—to see the Emperor,” she finished.

“Father understands your situation. Don’t fret over decorum,” the golden prince countered with a smile.

Vhalla picked at the bandages around her fingers. “I suppose I cannot refuse my Emperor,” she said softly.

Aldrik looked at her with marked concern. “I will speak to my father.”

“It’s just breakfast.” Vhalla tried to reassure herself more than anyone else. Aldrik stared hopelessly at her, and she gave him an apologetic look.

“Excellent! An hour then.” Baldair clapped his hands together and left.

Aldrik shifted, pulling a chain that ran from a button to his pocket. He glanced at the silver pocket watch she’d admired on more than one night after their Projection practice. “You shouldn’t have agreed,” he murmured and returned to his prior position.

“Aldrik, when will you understand?” She struggled to sit again, pressing the heel of her palm to her forehead with a sigh. “I am never in a position to refuse your family.”

“What?” He seemed honestly confused.

Vhalla smiled tiredly, it was cute how clueless he was at times. “I am nothing, no rank or title. More so, I’m property of the crown. You or any of your family could order anything of me, and I would be forced to oblige.” Vhalla ran a hand up his forearm, but he pulled away briskly.

“Do you just oblige me?” Aldrik asked coolly.

Vhalla laughed. “Of course not. I enjoy being near you, hearing your thoughts, spending time with you. You’re one of the best things that have ever happened to me.” Vhalla smiled at him, and she saw the prince relax. How had she never realized how insecure he was?

“You’re so funny. Do I oblige you? Aldrik, I—” Vhalla stopped herself, her smile slipping in the wake of a revelation. “—I—”

Love you.

That’s what her mind wanted to say, and it hit her harder than the sandstorm.

“You?” He let the word hang expectantly.

Vhalla inhaled sharply. “I ...”

It was hopeless; she was hopeless. She loved him, and she couldn’t deny it anymore. One look had spurred her to race to a likely death on the notion of saving him. Now that she realized it, she realized how long she’d been hopelessly falling for this infuriating, charming, enigma of a man.