“What did I feel?” Larel shifted onto her back. “I felt like he was one of the only people who I really had in the world, who really cared for me. I suppose that’s why I called it love.”

“How do you mistake love?” Vhalla asked. Maybe she was mistaken also?

“There are many kinds of love,” Larel said.

“Are there?”

“Do you love Aldrik as you love your father?” A grin was in Larel’s voice.

“Family is different!” Vhalla pushed the other woman’s shoulder.

“I love you,” Larel said softly, stilling Vhalla. The Western woman leaned close, placing a gentle kiss on Vhalla’s forehead. “I don’t love you as a lover. But I love you wholly and completely nonetheless.” Vhalla suddenly felt like crying. “And I love Aldrik—but as my friend; I didn’t and don’t want him between the sheets. When I kissed him, it was strange, awkward; there was nothing to it other than a kiss.”

“I see,” Vhalla barely said over another yawn. She wondered if she kissed Aldrik what she’d feel.

“Let’s go to sleep, Vhalla. It’s late.” Larel shifted closer, before settling.

Vhalla closed her eyes. She imagined Larel’s slow and steady breathing to be Aldrik’s. She imagined it was his warmth radiating close by. Vhalla sighed softly. There was an ache that made her legs shift under the covers. If it was the alcohol or the exhaustion that brought her to admitting it, she knew without doubt, she wanted the crown prince as a woman—as a lover—would.

THROUGH THE OTHERWISE dark room a slit of light streamed between the curtains, causing Vhalla to blink blearily and her head to pound.

“I feel sick,” she groaned softly.

“You drank too much,” Larel mumbled.

“You two, silence,” an agonized whisper ordered.

Both women sat up at the sound of the male voice.

Vhalla peered over the edge of the bed to see a disheveled Fritz collapsed on the floor. “When did you get here?” She paused. “Why are you here?”

“Larel wasn’t in our room, and I was worried. Then I got sleepy,” Fritz groaned, rolling away from the light. “No more talking.”

Just when Vhalla was going to give into the idea of sleeping the day away, there was a knock.

“Damn that person to the Mother’s fiery justice,” Fritz spat spitefully.

“Vhalla?” It was Daniel.

Vhalla pulled herself to her feet and tugged at her rumpled, alcohol-smelling clothing. Larel and Fritz had already collapsed again when she opened the door. Daniel seemed to be in a better state, but not by a large margin. His hair was wet, and Vhalla guessed a bath would likely help her also.

He chuckled when he saw her. “Still sleeping?” he remarked rather obviously.

“No, practicing an ancient Tower ritual,” she retorted with a tired grin, leaning against the doorway. Vhalla scanned the tray he held in his hands. “You come bearing gifts?”

“A little something. May I?” Daniel held up his offering of food, water, and some vials.

She nodded and stepped aside for her fellow Easterner to slip into the dark room. Larel and Fritz stared at him red-eyed and squinting but didn’t question.

“I thought you two might be here.” He shook his head in amusement. “I brought water for each of you and some potion that’ll help with your heads. I managed to find some before they were all gone.”

“And man’nik.” Larel was on her feet, headed for the tray. She grabbed a steaming bun, biting into it ravenously.

“That.” Daniel didn’t even try to pronounce the name of the Western food. He glanced at Vhalla’s confused face. “It’s filled with meat.”

“Eat one, Vhalla.” Larel shoved one into her hands, grabbing for the water.

“Thank you, Daniel,” Vhalla said sincerely, downing the potion and chasing the taste with water.

“It was my suggestion to go out last night.” He grinned as Fritz dragged his feet over. “And I could tell none of you were really used to that type of affair.”

“And you are?” Fritz took his share of Daniel’s gifts.

“Not really.” Daniel chuckled. “We’re going out for a quieter night tonight, if you’d all like to join.”

“No alcohol,” Larel mumbled.

“No alcohol,” he confirmed. “I’ll be back around dusk. We’re all meeting in the lobby downstairs.” Daniel started for the door.

“Where are you going now?” Vhalla asked.

Daniel paused, his gaze questioning. “I thought I’d go to the main market today.”

“Can I come with you?” She wasn’t sure what overtook her in that moment.

“I don’t mind if you come along.” Daniel flashed her a toothy smile, and Vhalla found herself unable to stop herself from smiling back.

“I need to change ...” Vhalla pinched her rumpled clothes, catching a whiff of herself. She felt as gross as she smelled from dancing last night. “And bathe.”

“I’ll wait downstairs,” he said, opening the door. “Take your time.”

“Daniel, huh?” Fritz gave an appraising hum.

“What?” Vhalla asked, defensive.

“Nothing, just a shame he doesn’t seem interested in boys. The march is long,” Fritz sniggered.

“Oh quiet.” Larel shook her head at Fritz. “You have someone.”

“You do?” Vhalla blinked. The Southerner seemed so intent on finding men all night.

“Not really ...” Fritz was more uncomfortable than Vhalla had ever seen him.

“Grahm, it’s Grahm.” Larel rolled her eyes.

“Grahm?” Vhalla remembered the Eastern man Fritz was rarely seen without in the Tower. How they’d sit, thighs touching, shoulders brushing. “You and Grahm?”

“It’s nothing official, I don’t know ...” The scarlet on Fritz’s cheeks told Vhalla everything she needed to know. Whatever was “not official” about them wouldn’t be that way for long when Fritz returned.

“If you’re going to the market, you’ll need these.” Larel tapped three golden coins on the dresser.

“Where did those come from?” Vhalla had never seen so much money at once in her life.

“Pay,” Fritz yawned, making for the door.

“Pay? For what?” Vhalla was confused.

“Soldiers get paid.” Larel smiled.

“But I’m not a soldier.” Vhalla fidgeted with her fingers. “I’m owned by the crown.”

“I think saving the army deserves three gold coins.” Larel patted her shoulder and ushered Vhalla off to the bathroom.

It was a shared bathroom for the floor but it was thankfully empty. The tub was sized for one and Vhalla took her time. Someone, she suspected Larel, had bathed her when she was unconscious but it didn’t compare to how clean she felt when she could be thorough.

When Vhalla returned to the room, Larel was still waiting persistently to check her injuries. Vhalla doubted she could dance the night away if her wounds were still significant, but she indulged Larel anyway. Larel saw her dressed and then used magic in a way Vhalla had never conceived.