“Eat,” he said finally.

“I know.” She picked up a fork.

“Try not to be nervous,” he offered helpfully.

“Try to tell the sun not to rise.” She was slightly annoyed he’d even suggest such.

“Then have faith in the people surrounding you.” He leaned forward. “I will be there, at your side.”

Vhalla stared in shock, suddenly remembering he was fighting on the front line of the side she and Aldrik were assigned to. The name that had been ink on a map of a battlefield suddenly became real, and with it, horror clawed its way through her. There were too many people she cared about, too many for her to protect them all.

“The Black Legion knows to protect you and the prince,” Jax said with more seriousness than Vhalla had heard in a long time.

Vhalla shifted her attention to the man at Daniel’s right. “I don’t want them to—”

“To what?” Jax interrupted her. “To have the Tower not protect their leaders?”

“I’m not their leader.” The protest was beginning to sound weak even to her own ears.

“You’re not?” Jax leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “When was the last time you were in camp? Have you not seen more wings painted than rays of the Solaris sun?” Jax’s eyes fell on her watch, and Vhalla instinctually grabbed it. “You were not born to be their leader, you were chosen. And that has far greater weight.”

Vhalla was instantly overwhelmed, and she quickly busied her mouth with food to swallow down the emotions that were trying to consume her. To chew away the nerves and the not so subtle implications Jax brought forth. Eventually her food disappeared, though Vhalla’s stomach still felt empty.

The Golden Guard all came and went, each tending to something else. But Vhalla was never alone. Erion tried to give her confidence, Craig tried to make her laugh, but none of them could ease the turmoil in her heart. It was the waiting that killed her, the hours that ticked away as they milled around in that suddenly too-small room. She inwardly cursed the Northerners for not choosing to attack at dawn.

Vhalla wished she had a book to read. No, not read; she wasn’t in a state where reading would be possible. But a book to look at, to hold, so she could feel like anything but a soldier about to kill.

But as Aldrik’s hand clasped her shoulder with a nod, a soldier was what she must be. She pulled up her hood, he donned his helm, and they departed the camp palace together. Vhalla stared at Soricium, at its towering walls and giant trees, ablaze with the late orange light of the sun.

She wondered what was going on within. If they, too, were preparing for battle. If they, too, felt like beasts pacing their cage.

To the casual observer, the camp seemed to continue as normal. But Vhalla could see the men with swords drawn, waiting for the call, crouched in their tents. She saw the archers packed and hidden in their roosts in the spiked walls. She saw the increased patrol that would be the start of the Empire’s inner border around the palace, preventing any escapees.

A whole army lay in wait, each in a carefully planned place. Each hidden away and prepared to strike to kill. Vhalla scanned the upper edge of the bowl Soricium sat in. She knew outer patrols had purposefully been withdrawn and made lax. They wanted the North to come. They wanted their enemy’s last hope to run right into their open and waiting jaws so they could devour the North whole.

She stopped next to Aldrik in the shade of a siege tower. He turned toward the trees, and she saw him clench and relax his fists. Vhalla followed suit, opening her Channel. Kill or be killed. Right or wrong, this was the only option that was left to her. It did not matter why she was there; if she did not fight, she would fall.

Vhalla turned up her face to gaze at the prince next to her. His face was barely recognizable with the helm and his set jaw. He scanned the trees with wild and nervous eyes. Vhalla took a breath and shifted her vision, extending her hearing.

It was silent as the sun continued to dip down. Vhalla heard the Imperial soldiers shifting restlessly. What if she was wrong? If an attack didn’t come, she’d likely be hung.

But through her nerves she heard them, a hazy mass in the distance, advancing through the treetops and on land. It was a hidden army, expecting to slaughter the soldiers settling into their tents for the night. The Northerners were outnumbered—at least on the eastern side—Vhalla realized. Without the element of surprise in the North’s favor, the South should take the battle.

She decided to conserve her power and shifted her eyes back to normal. They would be upon them soon. Vhalla heard the whine of bowstrings being pulled taut in the twilight.

There was one thing that gave away the camp as different from any other day: the quiet. Everyone waited with baited breath. Vhalla saw a flash of magic from the corners of her eyes. A man crouched in a tent, nowhere near where he usually slept, wielding a dagger made of ice.

Fritz glanced over at her, and Vhalla mouthed his name in shock. He smiled weakly and gave a small nod. Elecia was at his side as well. Vhalla realized too late that instead of spending the night hunting legendary axes, she could’ve—she should’ve—spent it with her friends. Had she learned nothing from Larel’s death?

There was a cry across the burnt and dusty plain, heralding the Northerners as they charged through the trees. Vhalla’s head snapped back to the distant rumble of footsteps. The enemy had made their play, they committed to their dash, not realizing the monster they were about to wake. Vhalla watched the army hold, each soldier exacting extreme control.

The Northerner’s first line was almost on the outer edge of camp when the horn rang out. It echoed across one tower to the next. Tents were thrown aside, some cut right off, by the Imperial soldiers hiding beneath them. There was only a moment for the Northerners to register what was happening as the first wave of arrows crashed down upon them.

She caught a glimpse of Daniel leading the first charge, and Vhalla’s heart beat so hard in her chest it should have broken a rib. Everyone she cared about readied themselves to launch their attack. Aldrik, Daniel, Fritz, Baldair, and even Elecia; how could she keep them all safe?

To the chorus of the arrows knocking against bows and the hymn of steel finding steel, Aldrik brought his feet to a run. Vhalla sprinted at his side, pushing everything else from her mind and focusing on what she must be. She saw him raise his hand as the second wave of Northerners left the distant tree line. A furious beat began to ring out in her ears.

This was it.

VHALLA DIDN’T HEAR the groan of the trebuchet as it launched its first load toward the outer forest’s edge. The screeching of swords faded away. There was only him, there was only his body, his breath, his life, and the pulsing magic that flowed unhindered between them.

Aldrik’s arm moved through the air and Vhalla knew his will before the magic left his body. Vhalla brought out a hand. Aldrik stopped suddenly; she halted with him in the same instant. The prince hardly registered her movement and Vhalla wondered if he felt it the same as she did. If he too knew that the deep connection they’d been fostering for months was finally ready to be shown to the world.

His magic flared. Vhalla brought both hands up together. Her wind took up his flame, the magic crackling around her fingertips. The scaffold of his command supported it, and their Joining enabled Vhalla to build upon his sorcery, stitching hers to the edges—making it something greater than either part.