“I’m going to take one of your horses,” the man continued. “You’ll let me or she dies.”

 “You don’t know who you’ve picked a fight with, friend.” Jax shook his head with a laugh. He stepped forward into the snow and froze. Vhalla watched as his eyes alighted with comprehension. Jax heard what she had heard. He saw what had made her willingly disarm herself. “Daniel?”

 Vhalla closed her eyes in relief.

 “Wh-who-what?” Daniel’s grip loosened some. “No, no impossible. It’s not possible.” With a growl, Daniel jerked her back toward him, tightening his hold. “Don’t lie to me, specter.”

 “Daniel.” Jax held up his hands in a motion that was meant to show harmlessness. Vhalla briefly appreciated its irony, coming from a man who could summon flame with a thought. “It’s me, Jax. The woman you are holding is Vhalla.”

 The man holding her, the person who spoke with Daniel’s voice and wore enough of Daniel’s image to convince Jax, let out a rasp that was nearly inhuman in its craze. He cackled, and it squelched the small bud of hope that had bloomed in Vhalla’s stomach.

 “I don’t know who you are, but I know you’re a liar. The Lady Vhalla Yarl is dead.”

 She wished he’d loosen his grip over her mouth long enough for her to get a word in.

 “Daniel,” Fritz spoke softly, taking a step from behind Jax. “She’s not dead, she’s right—”

 “Don’t tell me she’s alive! I watched her die on the Sunlit Stage! I watched him force her to kneel as he let his monsters tear her apart limb from limb.” He was nearly shouting, and Vhalla hoped that Sehra had been correct in there being no crystal magic, and therefore abominations, nearby.

 Who had died in the public execution?

 “Next.” Daniel laughed again, the blade biting into her throat from his trembling hand. “Next you’ll be telling me that-that the man standing there is . . .”

 The words faded into the wind. Aldrik’s eyes were alight with rage, his posture rigid. But his focus had shifted off Vhalla and onto Daniel, presumably meeting his eyes.

 “I am the Emperor Solaris,” Aldrik finished, dangerously quiet.

 “Supreme King Anzbel, he . . .” More raspy laughing. “Enough, I don’t know who or what you really are, but I am getting that horse and I am going. I don’t care if I have to kill her for it!”

 “You would shame Baldair’s memory?” Jax exclaimed. No one moved. “Daniel, he gave you an order. He asked you to protect the woman you are threatening to kill, to protect her until your dying breath.”

 “Stop . . .” Daniel whispered.

 “No! You swore an oath to the guard. As long as your heart beats, you are to honor it,” Jax pressed. The knife at her throat quivered, and Vhalla ignored the pain. “Brother.” The world turned on Jax’s singular word. “Let her go.”

 Suddenly, the knife was gone, and his grip went slack. For all of Jax’s words, he clearly didn’t completely trust his brother-in-arms in his present state; he closed the gap between them, grabbing for Vhalla and spinning her half behind him.

 Now freed, she could assess the man everyone else had seen all along. The man she was thankful she hadn’t killed. Daniel was haggard. His armor was crusted with blood, and yellow bandages were wrapped around his forearm where a gauntlet was missing. His hair was slick with sweat and grime. The makings of a proper beard crossed his chin.

 None of this scared Vhalla. A body could be washed, injuries tended to. It was Daniel’s eyes that broke something in her. There was something deeply wrong down to his very soul, something that no potion or salve could cure.

 “Daniel, it’s me.” She finally lowered her hood, studying his expression for some trace of the man whom she had marched with and learned from.

 “I-I cut you,” he stammered.

 Vhalla raised a hand to her neck. “So you did. Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt.”

 “I was supposed to protect you.” He swayed. “And then, I watched you die.”

 “I’m fine.” Vhalla took a step forward. Jax shot her a warning look, and Vhalla replied with a glare. The Western man didn’t stop her, but he stayed near her shoulder as she crossed the gap to Daniel. The man was like a stylelized painting, from far away he may be passible for a man, but the moment she was up close she could see every frayed brushstroke and wavering line. Vhalla boldly took his hands, and he nearly jumped out of his skin at the touch. “See, I’m fine. You, however, are not. Come inside and sit. Get out of the cold.”

 Za volunteered that she and Sehra keep watch, casting a leery eye toward Daniel. Even after the Northerners left, it was cramped with the six of them in the small structure. Daniel was jumpy with the proximity to people, his eyes darting wildly.

 “Elecia, will you please look at his wounds?” Vhalla asked.

 The Western woman looked to Jax and Aldrik, who both gave nods of silent approval. She radiated uncertainty but did her duty as a cleric. Daniel jerked away violently the second Elecia’s hands landed on his forearm.

 “No!” He scrambled away. “Don’t-don’t touch me.”

 “Daniel, we can’t heal you if—”

 “I killed them!” He lunged forward, grabbing Vhalla’s upper arms to the point of bruising. “Don’t fix me, I’m broken.” Daniel shook her, and Vhalla hissed at the pain it caused in her right shoulder.

 “Brother, stop.” Jax intervened. “You’re hurting her again.”

 Daniel stared in utter horror, then nearly threw Vhalla aside and scrambled away. She stared, heartbroken, as the man brought his knees to his chest, clutching his head.

 “I killed, they died, they died, they died, and I killed them, it was—”

 Vhalla wrapped her arms around his rocking shoulders. This time he tensed but didn’t lash out at the touch. “Stop,” she breathed. “Let Elecia check you.”

 Daniel whimpered and squirmed, but as long as Vhalla held him to her, he let Elecia perform what ministrations she could. It was awkward having to work around Vhalla’s arms, but Elecia had more tact than to point this out.

 When Elecia finished, Vhalla loosened her grip and asked, “Why are you here?”

 “I-I ran.” Daniel choked on his words, letting out a pained, strangled noise.

 “What happened?” Jax pried.

 Daniel held his temples and stared at nothing. He cried, rivulets streaking through the blood and grime on his cheeks.

 “Daniel—”

 “No! No!”

 “Soldier.” Aldrik forcefully stepped into the conversation with a single sharp word. Daniel froze. “This is an order from your Emperor: report.”

 Vhalla wanted to scold him for taking such a tone, but Aldrik had seen and heard something she hadn’t. The command snapped something back into place, and Daniel’s breathing slowed, his eyes regaining some sanity.