by Elise Kova
“With the prince,” Fritz dropped his voice. “Do you have a better idea of how to Channel?”
“I think so.” Vhalla nodded.
“Good, good!” Fritz beamed. “You’ll get the hang of it in a few weeks, I’m sure.”
Vhalla felt the magic crackling around her fingers. She didn’t need a few weeks, she could do it now. Her body knew it. But she didn’t have an opportunity to correct Fritz as the horns blew, summoning everyone back to their places in the host.
The soldiers moved more slowly now. A week of marching had begun to take its toll on the new recruits. Vhalla’s legs were stiff and sore-ridden from her own saddle. She had no idea how the men and women who walked were managing. How would they fight when they reached the North?
Aldrik was slow as well this morning, the host was practically moving when he rode up from the outside. Even in all his bulky armor he was still full of poise atop his War-strider. Her heartbeat began to race and, as if sensing it, Aldrik’s eyes found hers. Tension radiated between them, even across a dozen people.
He pulled hard on his reins and turned his mount, riding along the outside of the host to a few rows behind Vhalla. She watched the prince as he fell into line beside Elecia. Vhalla tore her eyes away before she saw more than a moment of their immediate and engaging conversation. There was an ugly emotion within her, one she wasn’t used to and didn’t know how to combat.
“I’m going to ride up at the front,” she announced.
“Why?” Fritz seemed startled by her suddenly declaration.
“I have friends up there,” Vhalla mumbled.
“You have friends here,” Fritz retorted, not understanding.
Vhalla wasn’t sure if she could, or should, explain it to him. From the corners of her eyes Vhalla saw Larel’s attention sweep back toward Aldrik and Elecia. The Western woman was too attentive for her own good.
“It’s nothing you did, Fritz.” Vhalla found the strength to smile, and grab his forearm supportively. “Just some people I want to see.”
There was no further protest from Fritz or Larel on the matter. As Vhalla cut through the ranks, she made sure to catch Aldrik’s eyes. It was nasty to admit, but she wanted him to watch her ride away and feel that same ugly emotion that he had evoked in her.
The Golden Guard wasn’t hard to find; a group of three surrounding the younger prince with golden plated bracers. They marched at the center of the host, and Vhalla faltered at the foul looks she received from the soldiers at the edge. She was about to ride back as the whispers started when Daniel turned in her direction.
“Vhalla!” he called, almost dislocating his arm to wave her over. Soldiers parted in shock, and Vhalla had no option but to heed him. “We weren’t expecting you.” Daniel smiled, and Vhalla instantly felt easier.
“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 wit
h 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.
“Charem, get up.” Aldrik sighed, leaning against a tree. “Or would you rather be torn limb from limb by the Northern clans? Or maybe a Noru Cat?”
Fritz struggled to his feet. Vhalla and Larel stood panting. Larel was in far better shape than Vhalla, who felt like she could collapse at any moment.
“Right, then.” Aldrik shared a long look with Elecia. “Elecia, Vhalla, pair up.”
“What?” both women exclaimed in unison.
“That is an order.” Aldrik pushed away from the tree, looking down at Elecia. “I trust you to impart your knowledge and skill.” The dark-skinned woman rolled her eyes, but didn’t object a second time. Aldrik didn’t even look at Vhalla, giving her no say. Vhalla decided that she had done something terrible to offend the prince, but whatever it was eluded her. The only thing she could think of was the Joining. But that had been his idea. And of all the words Vhalla could use to describe what happened between them the night prior, none would be negative.
“Larel, can you tell me how a Firebearer fights?” Aldrik asked.
“Hand-to-hand combat with the occasional long-ranged attack,” Larel responded.
“And Waterrunners?” The prince nodded and turned to Fritz.
“A mixture of offensive freezing attacks and defensive illusions,” Fritz sounded like he quoted from a textbook.
“And Groundbreakers?” Aldrik turned to Elecia.
“Highly defensive magic, stone skin impenetrable to bladed and most ice or fire attacks, combined with skills in weapons.” The woman rested her hands on her thighs, and Vhalla noticed the grooves in the other woman’s greaves were not decorative. She’d overlooked it before, but Elecia had two short swords strapped to her legs.
“As for Windwalkers ...” The prince’s voice faltered slightly when he turned to Vhalla. Her chest was tight, waiting for him to finish his thought. “We will find out.”
They spent the rest of the night going over basic punches and dodges. Elecia seemed just as displeased about having to help her as Vhalla was. The woman was curt and kept her comments short. But even through pursed lips and disapproving glares, Vhalla was learning.
The curly-haired woman was clearly experienced in combat. She moved lightly, easily, and never broke a sweat. She never made a single mistake and was never out of breath.
Everything about her seemed to get under Vhalla’s skin.
It was Vhalla’s turn to practice attacking and Elecia’s to dodge and deflect. Elecia found everything amusing. She had this annoying manner that made her seem like she was better than everyone else. She took Aldrik’s time and attention. Her motions were flawless. She had an elegant ease about everything, something that Vhalla had only ever seen royalty exude. Vhalla swung wide, and Elecia gave a small jab to her open shoulder. She took a step back and stared at Elecia.
Vhalla blinked in shock that she hadn’t put it together sooner. She had no proof, but something in her gut told her she was not wrong. The rumors of her being in the palace, the casual attitude toward royalty, it all made sense. Only people who came from wealth and affluence acted the way Elecia did. As if the world was a toy for her entertainment.
“What is it?” Elecia asked. “Giving up already?”
Vhalla returned to her assault. “Elecia.” She threw a punch, the other woman dodged. “Tell me—how old—were you—when you—first came—to the palace?” Her words were punctuated with her fists.
Elecia took a step back and paused. “What are you talking about?” The woman arched an eyebrow.
“Was it for a gala? Or was your father or mother on official business?”
Elecia’s eyes widened, and Vhalla resumed the attack. The woman recovered slowly and her blocks were suddenly sloppy. “Did you sleep in a guest suite?” She threw right. “Or did your family stay somewhere else in the upper part of town?”
An annoyed frown crossed Elecia’s lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“And you’re an awful liar,” Vhalla spat back.
Elecia looked at her in shock. “What about you, Vhalla Yarl? How exactly did you, less than a slip of a common girl, catch the eye of the crown prince? A nothing like you fraternizing with him!”
That got Aldrik’s attention. He quickly approached from where Larel and Fritz sparred.
“You have to know that you don’t deserve even—”
Vhalla lunged with a shout, not letting Elecia finish another wounding word. Elecia dodged easily and put a fist in Vhalla’s stomach. The woman’s arm felt like a rock sinking into her abdomen, and Vhalla wheezed for air instead of crying out.
“Elecia!” Aldrik shouted as Vhalla doubled over, holding her stomach and coughing. He quickly crossed the remaining gap, standing between the two women.
“You think that—” Elecia cast a finger in Vhalla’s direction, “—will ever be anything?” She threw her head back and laughed.
“Elecia, stop this,” Aldrik growled.
“Oh yes, defend your pet,” she sneered back.
Larel and Fritz stared in shock.
“Elecia,” he ground out through grit teeth, his hands balled into fists.
“Are you finally going to fight me? I’ve been waiting for a real challenge.” The dark-skinned woman said, putting her fists up. “It’s been far too long since we last went a round.”
Vhalla managed to tilt back onto her feet, still holding her stomach as it spasmed in pain.
Aldrik stomped over to Elecia and grabbed her by the collar of her plate. He jerked her to him and leaned in to place his face right in front of hers. “If you want me to spar with you like an adult, acting like a petulant child is not going to yield results, ‘Cia.”
Elecia pushed him away with a frown and a shake of her head. “Fine,” she said with a glint in her eye. “You continue to play your games with them, Aldrik,” she spat back.
Vhalla felt her mouth drop open in shock at the other woman’s use of Aldrik’s name.
“But—I will tell you again—that low
born bitch isn’t worth an ounce of what you give her.” Elecia turned and stomped through the forest noisily. The brush and trees shrunk around her before curling back even more overgrown and thorny than before.
Aldrik sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, giving himself a moment before turning and kneeling in front of Vhalla. “Are you all right?” he asked.
She nodded. Her stomach still felt like it was turned inside-out. Fritz and Larel hovered a few feet away from them in obvious uncertainty.
“Let me see.” The prince reached out, and Vhalla removed her hand. It hurt to straighten her back. “Take off your armor,” Aldrik ordered, and she began to fuss with the latches up the front. “Here,” he said softly and reached out, helping her from the bottom. Vhalla hunched her shoulders, let her hair fall in front of her face, and hid her shame.
Aldrik took her scale from her; a few of the small plates were dented around the abdomen.
He sighed audibly. “I will fix this tonight, and have it to you by morning.”
She looked down at her chain; it appeared to be undamaged. There was a moment of silence and a soft night breeze ruffled her hair. Aldrik reached out and clasped a hand over her shoulder.
“She is ...” He sighed. “Do not pay what she says any mind.”
Vhalla nodded silently. It was a nice sentiment. But once some things were said they could never be unheard, and the brief exchange was already repeating in her ears.
Aldrik nodded back at her before standing, turning to a shocked silent Larel and Fritz. “Larel, take her back to your tent. You may have to burn through one or two of those altered shrubs.” He glanced at Elecia’s path out. “Fritz, come with me. I am sure Vhalla has internal bleeding from a hit like that, and I will not have her riding a horse tomorrow without getting a potion in her tonight.”
They both nodded, and Larel slipped Vhalla’s arm around her neck, helping her to her feet.
“It’s not that bad,” Vhalla insisted softly, not wanting to make any more of a scene.
“There’s no shame in accepting help. This march is too long to justify acting too strong now,” Larel told her sternly, yet gently.
“Listen to that one, Vhalla. She has a good head on her shoulders.” Aldrik pointed to Larel, and Vhalla saw the Western woman’s face turn up to a small smile. “Fritz, come,” he ordered briskly, and the two walked off in a different direction.