“If anything, she has played a mind game on him.” Victor’s tone turned serious, not wanted to heed the obvious dismissal of the topic. “Every time he comes to me, he inquires after her well-being. He trained her personally. He carried her to me following an incident, cradled in his arms and begged me to help her. He races to her side at every possible moment. We both know he has previously made some less than ideal choices off the lower rungs of society.”

 “I am not worried about a child.” The Emperor folded his hands behind his back and leisurely strolled over to a window, looking over his city. “If she is a problem, I will remove her like . . . Oh, what was her name?”

 “Inad?” Victor finished easily.

 Vhalla recognized the name of Aldrik’s first love.

 “Yes, her.” The Emperor nodded. “I appreciate your diligence now, like then, Victor, but I am not worried. Now, I think this conversation—”

 “This girl is able to give you the means to conquer the Crescent Continent,” Victor interjected quickly.

 “What?” The Emperor turned in place, too invested in Victor’s words to be upset by the interruption.

 “That’s why I thought Aldrik would tell you. I realize you’ve been keeping your overseas visions from him, but I thought he would tell you for the sake of taking the North.” Victor sighed heavily and pressed his fingers against his temple. “But he’s so protective of the girl.”

 “You have found me a Windwalker.” The Emperor’s words were nearly reverent, his excitement palpable. Then his expression darkened. “Why would my son keep this from me?”

 “Harnessing the true usefulness of her power, at the least, will require her enslavement. If not her death.” Victor shrugged, as though the thought was nothing to him.

  “Aldrik, my idiot son with his mother’s heart.” The Emperor sighed heavily. “Thank you for telling me this. I will have the girl conscripted into service.”

 “If I may advise you . . .” The Emperor motioned for Victor to continue. “Be patient. The two are fire and air. Aldrik can be untamed, as you know, and she can barely control her magic at present. I think there will come an opportunity for you to use her to your advantage.”

 “Or I will see one made,” the Emperor remarked. “Victor, I am thankful to have such loyal servants such as yourself. It is a refreshing change from my last Minister of Sorcery.”

 “There is one more thing, my lord,” Victor added, his eyes shining with manipulation. “One more thing; to make her truly the key to your conquest across the sea, I will need something from the North to unlock the caverns.”

 “A small price for what you promise. I will see that we acquire what you need.”

  “It is a treasure of Yargen, of the variety Egmun procured—an axe made of crystal. If I have it, I will see that you witness the true power of the caverns.” Victor barely hid his giddiness, even as his words held more than one meaning.

 “Consider it done. And report back to me with any further knowledge you gain on the girl . . . and my son.”

 “Of course, I am nothing if not your most obedient servant.” A mad grin spread triumphantly across Victor’s face the second he’d turned away from the Emperor.

 That expression, the wicked glee, was what Vhalla woke to. She didn’t wake screaming or thrashing, but her whole body ached, and her head hurt as though she’d run a marathon in her sleep. The sun had yet to rise, and the canvas above her was a hazy and dull blue. Aldrik’s arm wrapped around her middle, and, judging from his deep and steady breathing, Vhalla knew he had yet to stir.

 Vhalla didn’t wake him. She stayed still and quiet, trying to dissect the dream. She turned it over in her mind and picked it apart. Victor had played them all. He played on their hatred of each other, their distance. He knew Aldrik well enough to know that the prince would never fully trust his father. He knew the Emperor didn’t think Aldrik ready for his plans for the Crescent Continent.

 Aldrik didn’t want to use the word “Bond” to describe what had happened between her and Victor, but Vhalla could offer no other alternative. She was Bonded to Victor. She had him within her. The madman, the monster who had stolen her magic. Vhalla was deeply connected with the one person in the world she truly wanted to kill.

 Jax’s suggestion echoed within her. Perhaps if she could manipulate the Bond, she could help them with the knowledge she could glean, with the powers she gained over the crystals.

 With the sun, Vhalla began to feel a rise in other emotions, a dark sea that raged in the back of her mind stirring to life. She rolled away from Aldrik, unable to endure his tender touch a moment longer.

 “Vhalla?” he mumbled, pawing at the empty space she left.

 “Go back to sleep,” she demanded quietly. “There’s still time yet.”

 Aldrik opened a single dark eye, looking up at her skeptically.

 Vhalla forced a smile onto her lips. When he still seemed insistent, she rested a palm on his shoulder. “Just the bathroom,” she lied.

 How far she had come. She, the library girl who was notorious for being a bad liar, was believed by the silver-tongued prince. Aldrik closed his eye and mumbled something about her coming back soon. Vhalla tugged on her chainmail and left him, hoping he could endure the disappointment of discovering her absence.

 A barren land greeted her. The bloodshed from the previous day was still visible in the distance. Carrion birds picked at the remnants. Vhalla turned her eyes away from it and looked southward. That would only be a small portion of the destruction she’d reap. She’d turn Victor’s power against him and take the world from under his feet.

 She stood staring at the destruction before her until people began to stir.

 Aldrik said nothing about her morning walk as they rode. He attempted to strike up various conversations with her, but none sparked, and he was left talking around her to Jax or Fritz. Elecia was equally quiet, her eyes heavy on Vhalla.

 But Vhalla ignored them all. She kept her eyes trained on the great, distant horizon that she suspected would be her final battle field.

 They marched through lunch into the afternoon, finally striking camp at dinnertime.

 Vhalla sat at their shared campfire for a few moments as everyone eagerly dug into their portions. She passed her meat from hand to hand, and then passed it off to Jax. The man regarded her with concern but didn’t say anything.

 “You hardly ate,” Aldrik said when she stood.

 “Not hungry.”

 “Where are you going, Vhal?” Fritz asked from across the campfire.

 “To spar.” Someone would be willing to help her relieve the nervous energy that crawled under her skin.

 “You should eat more.” Aldrik caught her wrist.

 “I told you, I am not hungry.” There was an edge to his voice that only she seemed able to hear. It was an awful grating sound that didn’t appear to bother anyone else.

 “Vhalla, please,” he encouraged.

 “I will eat what I please!” She wrenched her hand from his grip. A frown crossed her husband’s face, an expression that Vhalla couldn’t endure. It swayed her mind into more familiar territory. “I just . . . want to work on my swordsmanship.”