“The Emperor ...” Elecia glanced at the open tent flap, searching for anyone who may be within earshot. “Vhalla, I would be very careful. He’s suspicious of even me and has been obviously cutting me out of meetings,” she huffed. “And I’m kin to the crown prince. He has no reason to even pretend to care for you.”

Vhalla leaned back on her palms. “He’s already taken everything he could from me.”

“No, he hasn’t.” Elecia knocked Vhalla’s arrogance right off her face with her words. “The man owns the world. There will always be something he can take from you.”

Vhalla looked away rather than arguing. Any protest would serve no purpose; the woman was clearly convinced. “How is Aldrik?” she asked about the only thing that was a balm to the rage within her.

“He healed well,” Elecia reported. “But ... I still fear for his mind. He hasn’t woken.”

“Not once?” Vhalla frowned. Elecia shook her head.

“What can we do?”

“The clerics and I have already tried everything. He can live until the natural end of his days as he is, but ...” Elecia’s face was as pained as Vhalla felt.

“There must be something else.” They had come so far. Vhalla wasn’t about to give up now.

“There is nothing else.” Pain made Elecia short-tempered. “So you’re giving up on him?” Vhalla snarled, letting out some of her own frustration. “How dare you!”

“There is something else.” Fritz placed a hand on each of the women’s shoulders.

“What?” both snapped in unison.

“There is something else that hasn’t been tried,” Fritz repeated.

“Fritz, you know I’ve done all I could.” Elecia was honestly offended that he could even suggest she hadn’t.

“You have, I know,” Fritz agreed. “But that’s not everything that could be tried ...” He turned to Vhalla, and she instantly knew where his mind was.

Vhalla’s heart betrayed her at the idea. It pulsed with a hope, a hope that was ignorant of all the flaws to the plan. It was a beam of light cutting through the darkness that had been slowly suffocating her.

“You mean their Joining.” Elecia fearlessly gave words to what Vhalla was still chewing over. “Absolutely not. It’s far too risky.”,

“We’ve already Joined,” Vhalla reminded.

“Every time is a risk,” Elecia insisted. “His mind isn’t strong. You could get lost in that void or—I don’t even know what. A Joining is dangerous in the best of conditions.”

Vhalla brought her hands together. She wondered why she was even debating. The moment Fritz suggested it, she had known it would be the only course of action.

“Why do you think it would work?” Vhalla turned to Fritz. “You can’t be serious,” Elecia balked.

“It’s only a theory.” Fritz suddenly seemed insecure, glancing between the two women. “But a Joining is essentially a merger of two minds, right? I thought that, perhaps, you could go into his mind and bring him back.”

“I’ll try,” Vhalla resolved before Elecia could get in another objection.

The woman was clearly not to be easily dissuaded. She gripped Vhalla’s shoulder. “Are you even listening?”

“There’s nothing more the clerics can do; you said it yourself.” Vhalla was not backing down, not until she’d tried. “If not this, then what? We let him spend forever locked away in the prison of his mind? We watch him waste away into nothing, sustained by potions and your magic?”

Elecia dropped her gaze, her hand going limp. Vhalla pulled away, rising to her knees.

“Where are you going?” Fritz asked.

“To try.” Vhalla turned.

“Do you think the Emperor will let you anywhere near him ever again?” Elecia frowned.

“Do you think he’ll stop me?” Vhalla peered over her shoulder at Elecia. She’d never had any intention of asking the Emperor for his permission to see Aldrik.

“How are you getting in?” Elecia countered.

“Don’t worry about that.” Vhalla shook her head. “Elecia, if something goes awry, I trust you to take care of him.”

“If I can ...”

Vhalla’s eyes landed on Fritz. He had a sorrowful acceptance about her decision, despite being the one who suggested it. Vhalla sighed and pulled him in for a tight embrace. “When this is over, Fritz—when it’s all over—we’ll work together in the Tower again.”

He laughed weakly. “Of course we will, if your recklessness doesn’t kill me with worry first.” The Southerner sniffled loudly. “When did the library apprentice become so wild?”

“Who knows,” Vhalla said. She kissed his cheek lightly, her lips sealing in the truth. She hadn’t studied and trained to be the woman she had become; it had been carved into her by the world’s demands.

Vhalla had learned the camp and avoided the main roads through it. She kept her head down and her pace just fast enough to be heading somewhere with a purpose, but not too fast that she’d raise suspicion. She rounded the camp palace, swinging wide to the back hall. The tents stopped a moderate distance away, and the full moon was unkind to her intentions.

Thinking quickly, Vhalla walked around a different wall, grabbing some spare planks of lumber that had been stacked. As nonchalantly as possible, she leaned them against the building near Aldrik’s window. Most of the soldiers slept on, and the few who were awake didn’t notice or didn’t question the confident woman going about her business.

Two boards were enough to shield her from prying eyes and Vhalla squatted down against the wall in the small triangle of space they made. She held her breath, closed her eyes, and listened. With her Channel open, she became the wind’s confidant, listening to its secrets. Delicate pulses along it, pushing outward and pulling back to her, told her that there were three people sleeping in the camp palace.

Vhalla glanced at the camp, looking for anyone who was awake and paying attention. Finding no one, she crept from her hiding place, pulling open one of the slatted shutters over the low window. Vhalla sat on the ledge of the window and swung her feet inside, pulling the shutter closed behind her.

The room was plunged into near darkness, the shutters mostly thwarting the silvery light of the moon. It was a familiar space to Vhalla after the days she’d spent curled in the bed. But this time, the bed was occupied.

Five shaky steps and she was at his side. All strength left her, and Vhalla collapsed onto the edge of the bed, her hand to her mouth. Her shoulders lurched as she brought her forehead to his chest. She felt his breathing, much steadier than the last time, and she turned her eyes back to him only when she was certain she could control herself enough not to cry aloud and alert everyone to her presence.

The relief was overwhelming. There was still a bandage around his head, but it no longer appeared to be oozing blood. Most of the other bandages, including on his arms, had been removed. His face had returned to a mostly normal color, and the swelling had gone down. He wore a stubble on his cheeks that she’d never seen before; Vhalla couldn’t prevent herself from touching it, from touching him.