“What are we aligned in, exactly?” Vhalla settled back in her chair, watching as Victor rounded his desk to a workbench in the far corner.

“The world we want to strive for—a world where sorcerers aren’t used as tools, a time and place where we are revered and left to our own, rightful sovereignty.” Victor paused his motions. “Tea?”

“Sure,” Vhalla agreed cautiously. “How do you think we can get to your future? And what part does the axe play in it?”

“We will use it to make sure no one will be able to access the Crystal Caverns ever again.” Victor placed a steaming cup of tea on the desk before her.

“How?” Vhalla took the item in question from the saddlebag, placing it on the desk next to the steaming tea she sipped gingerly.

“How much do you already know about the Crystal Caverns?” Victor sat.

“Not nearly enough. The literature is disappointingly sparse.” Vhalla pondered all the books she’d managed to read about the caverns while working at Gianna’s. “I know the Knights of Jadar needed the axe—or, at least, they thought they did—to tap into the power of the caverns. I know they needed the axe even more than a Windwalker . . .” A thought suddenly hit her. “Wait, Victor. Am I truly the first Windwalker?”

The minister set his own cup of tea down thoughtfully. “The first to be known again. The first to return to the world as far as the general populous is concerned.”

“But, not the first?”

Victor shook his head, and Vhalla stared, baffled. She’d been revered, hated, desired, for being the first Windwalker. But there were more? She spoke as if Victor could read her suddenly tumultuous thoughts, “Why me?”

“Because you were in the right place at the right time.” Victor frowned slightly. “Or the wrong place at the wrong time, depending on how you look at it.”

“The East outlawed all magic following the Burning Times to avoid another genocide. It pushed the Windwalkers into hiding.” Victor stood and ran his fingers along the spines of books lined up on a shelf behind his desk. “You see, there were never that many Windwalkers to begin with, not when compared to the other affinities. That just seems to be nature. But Windwalkers disappearing? That was the greatest act of self-preservation the world has ever known.”

Victor placed a thin ledger on the desk between them. There were only a few pieces of parchment inside, some names and dates scribbled on a few lines. Victor flipped through them, the dates increasing until they stopped at the most recent date—and her name.

“It’s a record of Windwalkers,” she said softly.

“An incomplete one, for sure.” He sat down once more.

“You told me I was the first . . .” Vhalla honestly felt relieved to know she wasn’t. Maybe she could return East and find others like her.

“Everyone who wasn’t actively hunting Windwalkers would believe such. Aldrik believed it, and I saw no reason to correct him or tell you differently.” Victor pressed his fingertips together thoughtfully. “Whatever happened with you, I felt my actions would continue to protect your kin by not sending the world into another Windwalker-hunt.”

“He doesn’t know this exists?” Vhalla gaped at the notion of coming across some knowledge the prince didn’t already possess.

“No, there are only three people who know this exists.” Victor counted on his fingers. “Myself, the Emperor, and Egmun.”

“Egmun,” she seethed instantly. “Why isn’t he the Minister of Sorcery any longer?”

“There was an accident.” Victor scowled. “The man was mad, insatiable for knowledge, and lusted for something beyond his reach.”

“You mean crystals.” It always came back to crystals. It seemed the world’s every orchestration had the same, underlying harmony. Notes that one’s ears had to be trained to pick up, but once one heard them, it was a cacophony of sound that drummed to a singular beat, pulsing the world forward.

“Yes. The Emperor wanted the power in the Crystal Caverns and set Egmun to free it.”

Vhalla stilled, a memory flashing across her mind. She spoke without thinking, “You and Aldrik, he worked with you and Aldrik and crystals.”

The minister’s gaze suddenly went stony and guarded. His hands settled on the desk as he leaned forward slowly. Vhalla wasn’t about to allow herself to be intimidated, but the minister was doing his best to make a case for it.

“Tell me what you know about that?” Vhalla could hear the whisper of a threat hovering under his words. She didn’t have a good answer, and the minister continued in her silence. “The rumors are true then.”

“What rumors?” she whispered.

“Aldrik took you as his lover.”

Vhalla was on her feet, snatching the axe faster than Victor could blink. She meant to only take it so that if she was forced to leave, she would leave with it in her possession. The watch she wore around her neck burned hot on her chest. “Don’t you dare speak about him.”

“If you cannot take my remark without brandishing a weapon at me, then you shouldn’t go anywhere near the Court.” Victor frowned, leaning back in his chair.

Vhalla looked at her hand. It clutched the axe in a white-knuckled grip. Muscles taut and ready to swing. Slowly, she eased it back onto the desk, mentally forcing herself to uncurl her fingers from it.