“We’ve been training for weeks,” Vhalla stressed. “I hope I’m getting better.”

“Neither Fritz nor I could best Elecia.”

“But you two weren’t really sparring.” Vhalla turned on her side to face Larel.

“We were.” Larel nodded. “How did you do it?”

Vhalla paused, trying to put her defensiveness aside and think. “I don’t know, I just moved.”

“You ‘just moved?’” Larel quickly dropped the skepticism when she saw Vhalla’s face.

“I didn’t even think,” Vhalla added softly, attempting to analyze what had happened. “It was as though my body knew what to do, and I just had to trust it.”

“You fought like Aldrik.” Larel continued before Vhalla could point out that the prince had been training her, “No, Vhalla, you fought exactly like Aldrik.”

“But—”

Larel shook her head. “You could have been his mirror. I’ve sparred enough times with the prince to know how he moves. Down to how you turned your feet, Vhalla. And then, when you grabbed Elecia’s face ... That’s how Aldrik executes his enemy.” Vhalla remembered the Northerner on the Night of Fire and Wind, the one Aldrik had killed before her. He’d grabbed the swordswoman’s face and burned her alive from the inside out. Vhalla shivered. “I don’t know how ...”

“The Joining would be my suspicion.” Larel arrived at the obvious conclusion.

“I have to go talk to him.” Vhalla was kept from scrambling to her feet by an arm around her shoulders.

“Tomorrow,” Larel said thoughtfully. “I think Aldrik was very surprised by this turn of events. Give him some space to cool and process this.”

Vhalla frowned but obliged her friend. Larel gave the best council and had the wisdom of years with Aldrik behind her. And the dawn wasn’t that far.

But when the dawn came, Aldrik was nowhere to be seen. Vhalla scanned the campfires; the tents that were being torn down but she couldn’t find his tall shadow anywhere. She didn’t see him until she was falling in line with Fritz and Larel.

He ignored the space Vhalla had left for him, the space that had been constantly filled for days, and went directly to Elecia. Vhalla said her goodbye to Fritz and Larel and made a quick trot to the front of the line. His moods and his uncomfortable distances were beginning to wear down Vhalla’s patience. She didn’t care that by day their closeness had to be a secret—whatever that closeness even meant. She was tired of everything being on his terms and what he needed.

“Well, look who it is.” Craig was the first to notice her, and Daniel beamed from ear to ear as she approached. “We thought you had forsaken us, Miss Windwalker.”

“My favorite boys in gold?” Vhalla laughed away the tension of the Black Legion, falling in between Craig and Daniel. “How could I ever forsake you?”

“Good morning, Vhalla.” Prince Baldair gave her a smile across Daniel.

“Good morning, my prince.” Vhalla lowered her eyes respectfully. When she raised them again, they caught Raylynn’s and the Southern woman gave her a small nod. Things had dramatically improved between them. “How are the swords this day?”

“Sharp as ever,” Craig announced proudly. “Especially this one over here.” He pointed toward Daniel, and the Easterner was overcome with sudden modestly. “He’s been undefeated in the ring for two weeks now.”

“The ring?” Vhalla asked. “Sparring?”

“We must keep the reflexes sharp.” Baldair gave her a sideways glance. “Surely you have some kind of practice in the Black Legion as well.”

“We do.” Vhalla passed her reins uncomfortably from hand to hand.

“It’s strange to imagine you fighting,” Daniel thought aloud. “Not that I want to say you couldn’t or shouldn’t. When you were on trial, you didn’t seem like a combatant,” he added hastily.

“I wasn’t.” Vhalla stared forward toward the barren horizon. She’d picked the right day to ride at the front of the host. The remaining shrub trees and grasses of the forest were dissolving into the sands of the Western Waste. The Great Imperial Way cut through the pale yellow dunes like an alabaster snake, and there was nothing else for as far as she could see ahead of them.

“Would you spar with me?” Daniel asked. “I’ve never had much of an opportunity to spar with sorcerers; Jax is usually busy with the Black Legion. I’d love to have the practice.” He smiled and pushed his sweat-slicked hair away from his face.

“Sure.” Vhalla nodded and adjusted the chainmail hood Aldrik had made for her, keeping the sun off her cheeks.

“When we stop, then.” Daniel seemed genuinely excited.

As a result of her decision to enter the fray, their talk settled on the history of the Black Legion and Tower of Sorcerers. Unsurprisingly, the rift between sorcerers and Commons ran deeply, and what Craig and Daniel said about it being worse in the military proved true. When the host broke for the day, the swordsmen and women regarded Vhalla cautiously as she lingered. She’d ridden with Craig and Daniel enough times to no longer receive looks or whispers, but staying with them after they stopped seemed to cross a new line.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Vhalla asked after they tied off their mounts.

“Yes, Danny, are you sure you want to do this?” Raylynn gave Vhalla a sideways glance. Things may have improved between them, but the improvement was marginal.

“I am,” Daniel laughed. “I know Vhalla won’t hurt me.”

Raylynn clearly didn’t share the same sentiment, but Vhalla found Daniel’s trust and confidence refreshing. He seemed to always give her the benefit of the doubt, to trust her without needing a reason. It had quickly devolved into a foreign feeling since becoming a sorcerer.

Vhalla and Daniel squaring off attracted the attention of more than one person, and the other soldiers began to gather, curiously gawking at the sorcerer in black plate opposite a Golden Guard.

“An easy round, then?” Daniel drew his sword. It was a beautiful blade with a golden pommel in the shape of wheat. Vhalla had admired it on many occasions as they had spoken of their homes in the East. “To forfeit?”

“To forfeit.” Vhalla nodded, clenching her fists. She was almost dizzy with power. The winds of the desert were swift, unblocked, and strong.

“Craig, if you’ll do the honors.” Daniel glanced at their friend.

“On my mark.” Craig stepped between them, raising his hand. “Mark!” He dropped his palm through the air, jumping back at the same time.

Vhalla acted on Craig’s breath and was a whole step ahead of Daniel by the time Craig was even moving. She drew an arm across her chest, sending a gust of sandy wind into Daniel’s face. Daniel, to his credit, did not falter over such a probing attack and twirled his sword in his palm for a backhanded swing.

Ducking under the blade, Vhalla spun around Daniel like a dancer. She placed a palm to the center of his back, sending him falling with a gust of wind. She was disappointed; Vhalla had expected more of a challenge from such an esteemed member of Prince Baldair’s guard.

But Daniel was prepared to show her how he had earned his golden bracer. As he fell he dug his sword into the sand, spinning around it to sweep her feet out from under her. In her surprise, Vhalla barely had time to catch herself and, when she did, the tip of a blade was at her throat.