She managed three threads before she felt utterly spent. Vhalla blinked away her magic sight and collapsed back into the chair. Victor wordlessly began to clear his desk of the tools they’d been using all day.

“You did well,” he encouraged.

“I will be an old maid by the time it’s cleansed,” Vhalla lamented.

“Your second was faster than your first, and your third faster than your second.” Victor smiled, rounding his desk. “Think of it as learning magic all over again.”

“I just finished learning magic the first time.” She stood, stretching.

“Then the process is fresh in your mind.” Victor chuckled. “Thank you, Vhalla,” he said sincerely. “You’re going to be the catalyst for a new age.”

“One step at a time.” She shrugged. As all she sought was lasting freedom and peace, Vhalla kept her eye on the prize.

“We should work again tomorrow, if you feel up to it.” The minister started for the door.

“I have a feeling this is how I am going to spend my days,” she murmured.

“It is. I want to move quickly, but not so quickly that you burn out . . . so rest in the morning. I don’t want you pushing yourself on trivial things; this will be taxing enough for you. When we are not working, focus on giving your magic ample time to recover.”

“I’ll be certain to take it easy,” she agreed lightly.

The minister paused, unappreciative of her tone. “I am quite serious. We are working with advanced magic unlike anything you’ve ever seen before.”

Vhalla held her tongue about the magic she had seen in the North.

“Don’t fret.” She shrugged off the minister’s worry as fatherly concern. “I’ll keep up my strength.”

“I trust your judgment,” Victor said finally, shrugging off the disapproving glint to his eyes. “Though, I request that you tell no one of what we are doing.”

“By the Mother, no,” Vhalla laughed. “I’m not stupid.”

“No,” the minister smiled, “you’re not.”

When Vhalla finally returned to her room, the window was dark and the moon was already cresting the horizon. Utterly exhausted, she wasted no time bathing. The baths were mostly empty due to the unconventional hour, and Vhalla greedily soaked in the warmth of the water.

By the time she crawled into bed, she expected to fall asleep instantly, but her mind lingered in wakefulness. There was a smell on her pillow, on her blankets, so faint that Vhalla was certain she was imagining it. Real or not, it brought back memories of the last nights she’d spent in the bed, with Larel soothing her nightmares away.

Vhalla passed the watch around her neck from hand to hand. She’d returned home, she was surrounded by almost everyone she’d ever known, but she still felt very, very alone.

TWO DAYS LATER, Vhalla escaped the Tower with determination—she could only spend so many hours with Fritz and Grahm making eyes at each other and saying nothing about it. There was somewhere else that she knew she had to venture. And, while she’d find friends there, it would also force her to confront the truth she’d been harboring since the West.

Swords rang out above shouting and laughter. The palace training grounds were full of veterans from the Northern war, and with them came a whole host of new recruits for the palace guard. It seemed Tim had been at it again, spreading stories about her, as most of the guard had a wing painted on their breastplates. It didn’t take long for Vhalla to be noticed by some of the men and women, and she was greeted like an old friend.

It was the reception she would’ve wanted from the librarians and would’ve never expected to find among swords, bows, and drills. But the encouragement was welcome. Plus, once she was spotted, it made fleeing in absolute terror much more difficult.

Her eyes scanned the dusty training field. Archers sent arrows toward targets, and men assaulted wooden dummies with what would be lethal slashes. Vhalla found Daniel among the latter. Breaking the news about Jax to one of the guard would mean breaking the news to them all.

“If you want to say hello, I think he’d appreciate it,” the voice nearly startled her out of her skin.

“Erion,” she breathed the second she met the Western eyes. “Erion!”

Vhalla threw her arms around the man’s shoulders. They’d never been exceptionally close, but the Golden Guard felt like family. The feeling must have been mutual as his arms wrapped around her waist for a brief squeeze.

“You are all sorts of trouble, aren’t you?” Erion pulled away quickly, his Western nature getting the better of him. “It’s no wonder Jax likes you.”

Vhalla swallowed hard. “Erion . . . Jax is . . .” Vhalla gripped her fingers, emotions running high. “He was trying to protect me.”

“Oh, he told us.”

“What?”

“When he got back to the palace a few days ago, not long before Daniel, he told us all about how you got him stabbed,” Erion laughed.

Vhalla didn’t share the same emotion. “He’s here?” she asked, deadpan.

“Yeah, right over there.” Erion pointed to a group practicing grappling.

Vhalla stormed across the training grounds like a little vortex, her hands balled into fists as she stomped toward the tall figure of a Western man.