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 with 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 lowborn 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.
Just as Aldrik had said, the brush needed to be burnt away in some places. It was riddled with vines almost as thick as Vhalla’s wrist, blocking the most direct route back to camp. Larel used intense firebursts to incinerate a clear path.
“Groundbreakers can alter trees and plants?” Vhalla asked.
“Some can.” Larel nodded.
They didn’t speak again during the rest of the walk back to their tent. Larel offered to help Vhalla change into her sleeping clothes, but Vhalla insisted she could do it on her own. Elecia’s words ran through her head. The conversation had yielded too much information to dissect now. A sickeningly purple bruise had already formed on her stomach.
Vhalla only barely finished pulling on a long-sleeved nightshirt when there was a tap on their tent pole.
“Vhal? Larel?” Fritz asked uncertainly.
“It’s fine, Fritz,” Vhalla called, and he poked his head in. Larel shifted to make enough room for him to sit. It was crowded with three.
“Here, the prince told me to give it to you.” He handed her a small wooden vial.
“Thank you,” she said softly, taking it from him and downing it quickly. She recognized the fiery feeling of this particular potion and winced slightly. Vhalla was beginning to suspect the clerics healed everything with this one magic liquid. “Sorry to be trouble.”
“It’s fine,” Larel consoled. “This was hardly your fault.”
“What exactly happened?” Fritz asked.
Larel elbowed him in the side. “Not our business,” she scolded.
Vhalla fidgeted with her fingers.
“Fine, fine. I hope you feel better soon.” He reached out, ruffled Vhalla’s hair, and turned on his knees to crawl out of the tent.
“Wait,” Vhalla stopped him. There was a sick feeling in her stomach, but Vhalla thought it had more to do with nerves. “Wait,” she repeated again as he sat down. Vhalla passed the vial from hand to hand, unsure of her next words. But Fritz and Larel had already proven to be kind and loyal. She took a breath.
“Vhalla, you don’t have to—” Larel seemed to sense her trepidation.
“We’re Bonded,” Vhalla said directly, getting it out before she lost her resolve.
Both stared at her in shock and confusion.
“Wait, what?” Fritz had a dumb look on his face.
“You and ...” Larel whispered, her voice leaving her before she could finish the sentence.
“Aldrik.” Vhalla cursed aloud. “
The prince
.” She shook her head; it was too late and she was in too deep. “Aldrik and I are Bonded.” Vhalla looked away from them. She barely understood what being Bonded meant so how they would react was up in the air. They both stared at her with their mouths open, shocked into silence. “Well, say something,” she sighed.
“You’re sure?” Larel asked.
“Very,” she affirmed, recalling her Channeling lesson.
“Does he know?” Fritz asked.
Larel cuffed him on the back of the head. “Of course he does,” she chided.
“How?” Fritz asked. The Western woman shot him a sharp glance. “I know how, as in I know how Bonding works
in theory
. But how did you become Bonded with the prince, of all people?”
“I don’t really understand it all myself.” Vhalla thought back to a night in the library, a night that seemed forever ago. “It was when he came back.”
“From the front? In the summer?” Larel seemed to be already piecing it together.
Vhalla nodded. “I was working in the library and I—” Vhalla paused, leaving out the truth that she had thought she was saving a different prince. “I wanted to save him, I wanted to give anything to save him. He said I wrote magic, or made vessels—I’m not sure. Something about it opened a link and that was a Bonding.” She shifted, trying not to allow the conversation she’d started make her uncomfortable.