“That one.” Aldrik pointed to a building on the other side of the square with three large, circular stained glass windows upon its front. “Do you need me to help you?”

“No.” Vhalla shook her head. “Just knowing you’re here is enough.” She allowed him to read into it as he liked.

Vhalla had taken no more than three steps when the first member of the Black Legion noticed her. He walked over, giving her the salute of the Broken Moon. This inspired the next to come up and offer her thanks and praise. Her eyes caught Aldrik’s in confusion and wonder. He heaped silent admiration upon her, and Vhalla felt a flush rise to her cheeks.

It was slow going due to being stopped at every step. The Black Legion had been waiting at the door, but Vhalla noticed that the majority of the people in the square were soldiers. They paused what they were doing, stopping at the sight of her.

A man of rank drew the sword that was strapped to his hip. She glanced at Aldrik nervously, remembering the last time she’d encountered the swordsmen. The man brought his feet together and stood tall. His left hand went to the small of his back as he raised his sword over his chest and face in a pristine salute with his right.

She wasn’t certain what he wanted from her, and Vhalla nervously took another step. An older woman repeated the motion. Swordless, she brought her right fist to her chest in salute.

Vhalla took another step. Two more stepped forward in salute.

Every step Vhalla took there was another, and another, and another. They began to line her path, holding their salutes in reverence even after she’d moved on. Vhalla turned as the entire square—man, woman, child, soldier, and citizen—showed their own display of reverence.

“Do they always do this for you here?” Vhalla whispered to Aldrik. The attention made her nervous.

He stared at her, bewildered. “Vhalla,” Aldrik leaned close to her ear. “They are not saluting me, they are saluting you.”

No one said a word; they held their honors quietly, and their silence spoke so loudly in her ears that Vhalla wanted to cry. For the first time since becoming a sorcerer she felt a mass looking at her with respect, with praise. As much as it hurt her body, she held herself taller.

The Emperor and Prince Baldair were waiting on the outside the building Aldrik was leading her toward. Emperor Solaris surveyed the scene with his ocean-blue eyes, landing on the woman who was being led by his eldest son and saluted by his people. He folded his hands behind his back in a position that struck Vhalla as very Aldrik.

“If it is not the hero of the day.” The Emperor spoke loud enough that most of the square heard.

Vhalla dropped into a clumsy kneel, her knees popping and aching.

“My lord, thank you for your invitation,” she said respectfully, lowering her eyes.

“Stand, Vhalla Yarl. You are the most welcome savior of my army,” he commanded lightly.

Vhalla put both hands on her upward knee and struggled to stand, grimacing at the creaking in her legs. She felt much older than her eighteen years and could feel the tension radiating off Aldrik at her pain, but he made no motion. Vhalla was thankful he allowed her to do it on her own before his father and all those who had assembled.

“Come, I wish to bestow my thanks upon you.” The Emperor took a step back, and Prince Baldair held open the doors for them.

HHE BUILDING SHE entered was like a small palace. Alabaster, marble, silver, gold, and gemstones glittered everywhere. As the sun rose, it was piped in through portholes in the walls, giving the opulence new life. The Emperor led her into a side sitting room. There were couches and a table to eat at, opposite a tall, standing table cluttered with papers.

To her surprise the Emperor walked over to the table that did not hold the food. Prince Baldair walked around to his father’s right side, Aldrik hovered near her. He didn’t move until she did, her silent shadow.

“I would like to show you something.” Emperor Solaris motioned to her.

Vhalla walked over, Aldrik stood on her other side, leaving her right open to the Emperor. She assessed a large map and the Emperor pointed to a spot on the Great Imperial Way, just south of the Crossroads.

“This is where we were, when the sandstorm was upon us.” Vhalla’s eyes swung back to the Crossroads; they had been so close. As if reading her thoughts the Emperor continued, “The men at the front of the host were less than five minutes to the storm break walls.”

Vhalla stared at the map. She remembered the column running, but so many wouldn’t have made it.

“Tell me,” the Emperor asked as he stroked his beard and assessed her, “what orders would you have made?”

“Orders for?” she asked, not sure if she understood his question.

“If you were in my position, what call would you have made?”

She looked up at the man and then back to the map, taking a breath that was followed by an annoying cough at the feeling of sand in her lungs.

“Excuse me,” she mumbled. Keeping her face toward the table Vhalla tilted her head to the side. “I would have split the line.”

“Split the line?” It was Prince Baldair who asked.

Vhalla nodded. “One,” she pointed to the younger prince. “Two,” she turned to the Emperor. “Three,” she pointed to Aldrik. “Split it three ways. Keeping you central may make sense for a march; perhaps even in combat settings for protection, but for this, we’d be playing odds.”

“What odds are those?” The Emperor rested his hands on the table. Vhalla felt very short as the tabletop came up to her waist rather than her hips or lower like the taller men.

“Your lives,” she said matter-of-factly, surprised at the coolness her logic created in her voice. Prince Baldair actually had a somewhat horrified expression. Vhalla met the Emperor’s eyes. “If you three stayed at the center, you would have been in the middle of the storm, little more than a dozen horse lengths apart. If one of you died there is a great chance that whatever killed that person would kill those near him; the closer the proximity, the greater the odds of death. You three die, we all lose. If the Emperor and all heirs were suddenly lost, this realm has more than one battlefront.”

The Emperor rubbed his chin. “Go on.”

“You would all run in different directions with the fastest riders prepared to give their lives for you. It would be the best chance for survival,” Vhalla explained simply.

“You know that means half the host would be left behind on foot.” The Emperor regarded her thoughtfully.

“I know that.” She nodded. “They would be left to chance.” The word chance sounded nicer than death.

The younger prince seemed horrified, and Vhalla would have to turn to see Aldrik’s expression. The Emperor was almost too analytical in the way he seemed to calculate her words against an invisible tally. Vhalla brought her hands together, wringing them.

“You do have some intelligence to you,” the Emperor said lightly.

“My lord, if I am intelligent it is because you have filled your castle with good teachers.” She thought back to Mohned with a pang of homesickness.

“Ah, Vhalla, do not be so modest. Knowledge and power are a dangerous combination, and you appear to have both in quantity.” The Emperor turned and motioned toward the table that had been set with food.