On the third night, she was setting up Larel’s and her tent with just her magic alone. That was the first time Vhalla felt eyes on her for her sorcery, eyes that weren’t daunting or scared. The Black Legion began to pay attention to their Windwalker once more, not for the Night of Fire and Wind, but for the daily feats she was beginning to be able to perform. It was a sanity-supporting confidence-booster for Vhalla.

She was in such a high place with it all that when Aldrik paired her with Elecia during training—at the other woman’s request—Vhalla didn’t even blink. She accepted the other woman’s presence opposite her. If it was an actual competition for Aldrik’s attention, it was one Vhalla was winning. The crown prince had rode at her side without stop, and tomorrow they would practice Projection again.

Aldrik had been intent on working toward more hand-to-hand combat, and Vhalla was happy to oblige. The Northern-looking woman needed to be knocked off her high horse and tonight was Vhalla’s night, Vhalla assured herself. She’d been feeling stronger with every passing week, less sore, more capable.

“You sure you want to do this, Yarl?” Elecia smirked, her eyes darting toward Aldrik.

“It’s just practice, right?” Vhalla sunk into her preferred fighting stance, one arm up and the other at chest-height.

“Oh, of course.” Elecia balled her right hand into a fist, clasping her left overtop.

Vhalla clenched her hands into fists and welcomed her magic as well. “Your mark, or mine?”

“Mine—don’t want you cheating.” Elecia laced her voice with sarcasm, but Vhalla knew it was a thin veil for sincerity, and her eye twitched.

Elecia moved, and Vhalla instantly went on the offensive.

The dark-skinned woman dodged and ducked ably. She narrowly avoided Vhalla’s hooks and jabs. But Vhalla’s punches were missing by a narrower margin than she would’ve expected.

Vhalla took a breath and focused. She began to feel the ripples in the currents of air as the other woman’s muscles tensed and pulsed before she threw a punch or kick. Vhalla’s body knew before her eyes could see. Vhalla’s heart began to race. She could do this: she could fight.

A pulse began to fill Vhalla’s ears, and she allowed herself to rely on instinct. Vhalla moved like the wind, fast and precise. Her hands swung in exact arcs, hitting their target almost every time. The constant offense had Elecia beginning to panic, and panic made the other woman sloppy. Vhalla heard nothing other than the heartbeat.

Elecia threw a fist at Vhalla’s face; knowing it was coming, Vhalla dodged at the last second. She clamped her hand around Elecia’s wrist and savored the look of pure shock as her foot kicked the other woman’s feet from beneath her. Elecia fell to her knees, and Vhalla reached for the woman’s face with her free hand, clamping it over Elecia’s mouth.

The dark-haired woman’s eyes went wide with terror.

“That’s enough,” Aldrik barked from their right. “Vhalla, let her go.”

The heartbeat in Vhalla’s ears began to fade: it was almost like coming out of a trance. As if seeing the other woman for the first time, Vhalla quickly pulled her hand away, staring at the appendage that had found a mind of its own.

“What in the Mother’s name was that?” Elecia sprang to her feet.

“Just a spar,” Vhalla said curtly. She wasn’t about to let shock give Elecia leeway to ignore the fact that she’d been outperformed. “A spar you were bested in.”

“Right,” Elecia mumbled, her eyes swung to Aldrik. “Bested by an awfully familiar fighting style.”

“I think that’s enough for the night.” Aldrik’s tone was clear: he didn’t want any further discussion on it.

“Why?” Elecia took a step forward. “So you can continue to train her in secret?” Was that hurt in the other woman’s voice? “What do you do those nights you call her to your tent?”

“That is not your concern.” Vhalla had never heard Aldrik so sharp with Elecia.

“It is, because you are my—”

“Just go, Elecia.” Aldrik pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

He was her what? Vhalla wanted to scream the question, but she was barely finding enough air to breathe through the whole exchange.

“Fine, Aldrik. If you want to train her in secret, go right ahead. But don’t think your favor heaped upon the undeserving lowborn will go unnoticed or unquestioned.” Elecia was at the insults again, and Vhalla wished they would dull just a little more instead of still feeling like daggers to her gut.

“All of you, go back,” Aldrik commanded as Elecia stormed away.

“Aldrik,” Vhalla said softly as Fritz and Larel got a few steps ahead.

“Where did you learn how to do that?” The prince stared down the bridge of his nose at her.

“Where else could I learn?” She didn’t understand why she was being given his displeasure. “You, Elecia, Larel, Fritz, Major Reale, you know everyone who’s ever taught me.”

“The way you moved. None of them could have taught you that.” He was somber.

“Well, I have a good teacher.” Vhalla attempted a smile that she quickly abandoned.

Aldrik’s eyes were dark with a tempest of emotion, none of which good. “It was more than that, Vhalla,” he pressed.

“I don’t know what else you think I’ve done.” She took a step away, crossing her arms. “If you remember, my life hasn’t been mine for the past few weeks. I’m owned by the crown, my prince.”

“Is that it? You’re just owned by the crown? There is nothing more?” Aldrik shortened the gap between them with two steps.

“What else more would there be?” Why else would she be headed to war?

His eyes widened by a fraction, and Vhalla realized that they weren’t talking about her presence in the military or combat. Aldrik stormed past her, his shoulder hitting hers lightly.

“Aldrik, you know that wasn’t what I meant,” she called after him.

He froze and looked back at her. Was that appreciation on his face? Was he impressed that she recognized the subtle shifts in their conversation?

The moment was fleeting, and he left her without another word.

Vhalla wanted to scream. The wind tickled under her palm, responding to her frustrations. For the first time Vhalla considered running and abandoning her duty.

Later, in their tent, Vhalla vented to Larel about it all. “I don’t even know what I did!” The other woman was silent. “I thought he would’ve been pleased I’m not utterly useless.”

“You were never useless,” Larel corrected unhelpfully.

“I bested Elecia!” Vhalla flopped back onto her bedroll. “I thought he’d be proud.”

Larel paused a long moment, lying on her side next to Vhalla. They set up their bedrolls against each other to give more room for their armor and things in the small tent. It seemed a much better use of space, and Vhalla had already shattered any contact barriers from the nights she’d spent shaking and sobbing in Larel’s arms.

“The way you fought, Vhalla,” Larel began delicately.

“Not you too,” she groaned.

“Well, you moved very differently than ever before,” Larel pointed out. “What happened?”