“I hear you’re coming with us?” Reona yawned.

“If you’ll have me.” She needed to ensure she could ride as fast as possible. If not, she’d encourage Aldrik to return home ahead of her.

“Reona, check the larder on the way to the barn,” Cass asked her sister.

“When we return to the capital, I will see that the Ci’Dan family shows their appreciation to the fullest extent for what you have done for us.” Elecia met the eyes of the eldest Charem child. “Were it not for you, the life of our prince would have surely been forfeit. If we were stuck out in this winter, it would have been the end of all of us.”

“Truly, it has been our honor,” Cass said, ever mindful of her place in the world.

“Dresses! And axes! We want dresses and sharp axes!” Reona chimed in eagerly from the doorway. Cass shot her a glare. “I mean, yeah, our honor,” she coughed.

Vhalla followed Cass out to the barn, bundled in a spare riding cloak of Reona’s. She didn’t have the energy to dread returning to the capital as she likely should, she only felt exhausted. The world had spun so fast it’d fallen off its axis, and Vhalla felt like she would be chasing it forever to try to get back on, just to live.

A surprise waited for Vhalla when they reached the open-style barn that housed the family’s horses and small pens of livestock. Each stall was packed fuller than it should have been to keep all the animals out of the heavy snow, but Vhalla could easily pick out a steed slightly larger than the others.

Lightning, the mount that had carried her across the continent, whinnied as she pet his nose with her palm. He had always been a smart horse, and while it may have been her wishful thinking, the steed seemed to remember her. The horse had been well taken care of. He was strong, and his trot was familiar the second Vhalla was once more upon his back.

For a time, she had wondered what had become of her Lightning after leaving the North. Now she had no doubt who had taken care of him. Especially after Baston’s death. Vhalla glanced over her shoulder back to the slowly shrinking home, left behind as she followed Cass and Reona toward town. She wondered if Aldrik had managed to go back to sleep.

Her eyes fell on the barn once more, and Vhalla picked out the mount she’d ridden alongside Victor. Victor, the name made her blood bubble so hotly that Vhalla could ignore the pain in her shoulder due to the jostling of the horse. He’d been planning to use her from the start. He’d seen her saved from the Senate, and then he’d turned the Senate’s sentence into an opportunity to get the axe. He’d trained her himself upon her return. He’d prepared her as carefully as a prize hog for slaughter.

He was the greatest puppet master the world had ever known. He’d manipulated princes and Emperors for his own vision. It’d be admirable, if that vision wasn’t a twisted and corrupt thing.

The woods were washed in white, and Vhalla tried to turn her thoughts away from lusting after the former Minister of Sorcery’s death. There were no others nearby, and the snow was pure and unblemished. The girls chattered on about this or that which they could also pick up in town. At a quarter day’s ride away, Vhalla had no doubt that going into town was indeed an affair. It had been the same for her as a child, and she remembered with fondness every time her mother would take her into Leoul proper.

Whistling through the trees, the wind whipped her cloak around her. Vhalla drew her hood. Holding out a hand, the air slipped through her open palm. It felt different. She was once more normal, no more special than the girls she rode with. Vhalla looked up to the sky, broken and blotched by trees; there was one man who now felt what truly blew in the wind and she hated him all the more for it. Her red-chilled hands gripped the reins once more.

They reached the outskirts of town in good time, and Vhalla pulled her attentions back to the present. The town closest to the Charems’ home, Rivend, reminded Vhalla very much of Leoul. It was a town indeed, but barely so. Houses gathered closer together than normal. There was an inn, a grocer, some general stores, cobbler, seamstress, and other life essentials. But that was where the similarities ended.

The buildings were basic log construction with shingled roofs. It was different from the river stone and thatch-work that was made in the East. People used what was available to them in places like this. Most did not have glass on the windows. Some had been wealthy enough at various points to afford paint—that was now chipping away—on their storefronts.

No one seemed to pay the girls any mind as they rode to the grocer and dismounted. Vhalla realized with her hood drawn she was likely assumed to be Nia and was content to blend in with the girls as they went about their business.

“Welcome, welcome!” the grocer hummed from behind his counter as a bell alerted him to their entry. “Ah, Cass!”

“Hello, Daren,” Cass said with a smile.

“What’ll it be today?” The elderly man rested his elbows on the high counter.

“The normal, please.”

“You usually don’t return to me so quickly.” He began to grab bags of grain, salted pork, and preserved food from around the store. Cass helped, knowing where things were from prior experience. “Is little Gwen finally eating into her growth spurt?”

“Maybe!” Cass laughed.

“Actually we have—” Reona began.

“We have Fritz home also,” Cass finished for her sister with a glare.