“Not in the slightest.” Prince Baldair’s words deflated her.

“I hope it’s no trouble.” Vhalla lowered her eyes.

Daniel held his tongue for the prince.

“Don’t worry yourself so much.” The prince waved away her insecurities with a full bellied laugh. “I said it was fine.”

“This may be the first time a sorcerer rode with the swords,” Craig remarked.

Vhalla believed it from the looks the other soldiers gave her.

“Vhalla, this is Raylynn.” Daniel motioned to a woman who rode at Baldair’s right. She had long blonde hair, the color of a Southerner’s. But it was straight, like a Westerner’s would be, and her skin held an olive tan.

“Nice to meet you,” Vhalla said politely.

The woman regarded her thoughtfully for a long moment. She had eyes like Aldrik, Vhalla noticed. Black and piercing, they confirmed Vhalla’s suspicion of Western blood in the woman’s veins—if her sun-kissed skin wasn’t proof enough—and cut through Vhalla easily.

“You’re the Windwalker.” It was the second time the phrase wasn’t posed as a question.

“I am,” Vhalla affirmed.

“Ray, be nice.” Daniel maneuvered his horse next to Vhalla’s. Raylynn gave Vhalla one last long assessment before unleashing a series of hushed whispers to the prince. Daniel kept Vhalla from listening in. “Ray had family on the Night of Fire and Wind,” he whispered.

Vhalla pulled taught the reins, ready to turn Lightning around and ride back to her place in line. A golden gauntlet quickly covered her hand. She looked up at Daniel in confusion and frustration.

“Don’t go. I think it’ll do her good.”

“What?” Vhalla inhaled in apprehension.

“You’re not the monster they think you are.” His declaration cut straight to her core, and Vhalla’s expression must have said it all. “I ...” He was at a loss for words—they both were as the wave of brutal honesty crashed upon them. That moment of openness had crippled her, and Vhalla was thankful for the strong legs of the steed beneath her. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I needed to hear it.” She was overcome with his truth; it was infectious, and Vhalla wanted to coat herself in it.

Daniel noticed his hand was still on hers and pulled away quickly. Judging from the sideways glances from Craig and Baldair, he was the last to notice.

Vhalla relaxed her grip on the reins. “So, I thought the Golden Guard was bigger than three.”

“There’s five of us in total,” Daniel affirmed. He seemed just as relieved to switch the conversation.

“The other two are at the front,” Craig filled in. “Head Major Jax Wendyl and Lord Erion Le’Dan.”

“Head Major Jax?” Vhalla had heard the name before. “Of the Black Legion?”

“The same.” Daniel nodded.

“But, he’s a sorcerer,” she pointed out dumbly.

“What?” Prince Baldair gasped. “He’s hid this from me this whole time?”

Daniel and Craig burst out laughing, and even Vhalla cracked an embarrassed smile.

“He’s a sorcerer.” The prince nodded, looking northward. “But he’s also a good man.” The golden prince turned back to her, looking over Craig and Daniel. “You’ll find I only surround myself with good men, Vhalla.”

Raylynn snorted.

“And women.” Prince Baldair chuckled and turned back to the swordswoman.

Vhalla spent the rest of the day learning about the history of the Golden Guard. Prince Baldair had instated it as a boy with Lord Erion Le’Dan and, at the time, it was mostly a joke between young men. But when the war on the North started, he turned to his friend to survive the front. Slowly, other men and a woman were added, those who were deemed the most skilled and valuable.

Daniel had been the most recent addition after he’d assumed command during a battle when no one else would, salvaging a brutal defeat in the North and saving the prince’s life in the process. Vhalla had no idea that the Easterner she’d been musing over growing potatoes and chatting about Paca’s festival with was a lord. Daniel seemed uncomfortable by the notion himself, assuring her that she should not treat him any differently.

She hadn’t realized how much time had passed until the horn blew, calling for the stop. Daniel laughed as well, saying that time had gotten away from him. He invited her to dinner, which Vhalla refused due to guilt over leaving Larel and Fritz for the whole day. Before she left he invited her out to ride with him again and, upon remembering Aldrik and Elecia together, Vhalla couldn’t outright refuse.

“So we found out something about Elecia today,” Fritz said as they were finishing setting up their tents.

“What?” Vhalla wasn’t sure if she wanted to know.

Larel had a cautionary glint to her eyes.

“We were talking with the foot soldiers,” Fritz continued, missing both ladies apprehension. “And apparently they’ve seen Elecia before.”

“They have?” Vhalla asked.

“She’s been in and out of the palace since the prince was a young man, one was saying,” Fritz explained.

Vhalla didn’t know why that fact would fill her with such dread.

“As if common soldiers would know anything,” Larel mumbled, finishing her bedroll.

“Yeah, but you have to admit that Elecia and the—”

“And who?” the woman herself finished, and all three turned in surprise.

“And, uh ...” Fritz was a mouse in the trap of a gleeful cat.

“And the prince,” Larel finished fearlessly.

To her credit, Elecia was only startled for a moment. Vhalla made a note that the outright mention of a connection between Elecia and Aldrik paused the woman. “Speaking of the prince, he said he shall train you tonight.” Her eyes fell on Vhalla, speaking volumes soundlessly. “So let’s get this catastrophe over with.”

During the walk to meet Aldrik in the woods, Vhalla mused over Elecia and him. People were already talking about the two of them. What if there was history between them? What if Larel was wrong and it wasn’t just camp gossip? Her mind wrapped and wandered around the ideas, only coming to a halt when Aldrik began to speak.

“Your nights will be half training your physical bodies, half training your magical prowess,” he declared while walking around Vhalla, Larel, and Fritz. “If you have any hope of making it into and out of the North alive, you will need every minute of training I can give you.”

Elecia hovered off to the side, exempt from Aldrik’s words.

“If you talk back or refuse, I may reconsider my kindness of being your teacher.”

His voice was that of a prince, not the Aldrik she knew. Vhalla glanced at Fritz, wondering if it was only for his benefit. Larel was friends with Aldrik; Elecia clearly had some connection; and Vhalla was ...

What was she?

That question echoed in her mind while they began their physical training. It ran through her head until Vhalla focused only on not getting sick from running and jumping. Aldrik refused to let them take off their armor; their physical training required it, he said. Fritz was the first to collapse, earning his ire.