“That’s not true!” Daniel drew his blade, his voice coarse. “Continue to lie and I will cut out your tongue.”

“Defend your freak.” Grun reached for his own sword, forgetting Vhalla had disarmed him completely.

“Enough!” Prince Baldair yelled. The men fumed but were silenced. The prince turned to Vhalla. “Do you have anything to say on your behalf ?”

Vhalla met the prince’s endless blue eyes, considering his question. Her side throbbed where Grun had kicked it, where Rat and Mole had kicked it. She clenched her fists, letting go of her magical Channel—and with it her fight. “No.”

“No?” The prince was startled.

“I’ve learned the Empire,” Vhalla turned, staring down the soldiers, “the people, have no interest in the truth.” Vhalla met Prince Baldair’s eyes coldly. “I am property of the crown, and property doesn’t talk back.”

The spite surprised even her, and everyone stood in a stunned silence. It was the first time she’d said it in a public place, the first time she’d assumed her new identity. They would think what they would about her—words would not change her reality. So why fight that battle? She had enough to worry about just surviving.

“Come with me, sorcerer.” The prince had clearly taken offense with her directness. “Grun, Daniel, I’ll deal with you later.”

“Baldair—” Daniel took a half step between Vhalla and the prince.

“Silence, soldier!”

Vhalla had never seen Prince Baldair so harsh. Daniel looked at her hopelessly as she followed the prince into camp. She knew she should feel guilty, but she didn’t. And her mood soured up until the point that Prince Baldair ushered her into his tent.

His tent was completely unlike Aldrik’s on the inside. He had an actual table and three chairs positioned around it. A single brazier made of bronze hung from the center of the tent and lit the room. Prince Baldair’s bed was larger—for reasons Vhalla could guess, given his reputation with women—and it appeared to be an actual mattress. She wondered how difficult it was for the horses to carry it all.

The prince closed the tent flap behind him and did a short circle around her, assessing Vhalla from head to toe. “Sit.” He motioned to a chair. “Or perhaps you’d rather I threw some pillows on the floor?”

Vhalla’s eyes widened, hearing the meaning between his words.

“You look uncomfortable.” The prince paused, his eyes reading hers. “I would think you’d be more at ease in a prince’s tent. Or is it just my brother’s?”

“What do you want?” she demanded.

“Today, I saw him in you.” Baldair squinted his eyes, as if he was trying to imagine Aldrik imposed atop her. “The way you moved, the way you were rushed by the fight. Tell me, is that the only way he’s been in you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Vhalla hissed.

“I can’t recall the last time I saw Aldrik with a woman, at least one who wasn’t bought or given to him by our father as an attempt at finding a future Empress.” Baldair took a step closer to her. She didn’t know this prince. There was something turning him sour. He grimaced as he spoke, as if instantly regretting his words.

“Not another word,” Vhalla cautioned.

“Oh? Did you think he was some paragon of purity? I’ve seen him kill girls younger than you. I’ve seen him wind women up to crawl to his bed.” Prince Baldair frowned.

The tension in her muscles became so great that Vhalla feared it would snap her bones. “Speak about him again and I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Prince Baldair’s expression clashed darkly with his usually handsome exterior. “Get yourself together, Vhalla. Have you forgotten the terms the Senate gave you? Have you considered that your actions may force his hand?”

Horror stilled her, and her hands relaxed. He wouldn’t. “What do you want from me?” she whispered.

The prince leaned toward her to whisper in her ear. “Whatever you have with him, end it now.” His voice was quiet and it sounded sincere and pained. “If not for your sake, then for his.”

Vhalla’s chest tightened, but she didn’t have an opportunity to ask him what he meant. The rumble of a single horse and the whinny of an abrupt halt could be heard from outside the tent.

Prince Baldair straightened as the tent flap was thrown open. Vhalla turned and a wave of relief crashed over her as she saw the dark figure step inside.

“Ah, brother.” Prince Baldair rested his palms on his hips. “We were just talking about you.”

ALDRIK’S EYES FLICKED from Vhalla to his brother. Vhalla met his gaze and pleaded with him silently to get her out of there as fast as possible. She saw him collect his emotions as he folded his hands behind his back.

“What is going on here?” His voice held a deathly stillness.

“She was caught in a brawl.” Prince Baldair glanced at Vhalla. “I was administering discipline.”

Vhalla’s head snapped back to the younger prince with a glare. Is that what he called it?

“I believe discipline falls to the subordinate’s leader.” She could hear the stress under Aldrik’s cool voice.

“Normally, yes,” Prince Baldair agreed. “But I think her leader is rather biased, don’t you?”

“Baldair ...” Aldrik didn’t even try to hide the threat in the depths of his voice.

“I think you’re confusing the woman, Aldrik. We both know how a man’s needs must be met, but she’s too young for you and your games.” Prince Baldair crossed his arms over his chest.

Vhalla refrained from pointing out that she wasn’t that much younger than Baldair himself.

“What is this?” Aldrik crossed over to his brother, stopping just short to stare his brother down. “Misplaced jealousy?” Aldrik sneered. “That a woman may prefer me over you?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” the blue-eyed prince scoffed. Prince Baldair drew his height and still came up a hand shorter than his brother. “This isn’t about me or you, this is about her.” His eyes shifted to Vhalla. “She was kind, shy, and sweet the first time I met her. Less than a year with you and look at what you’ve done to her Aldrik. She’s in black—”

“Baldair—” Aldrik snarled.

“—she’s fighting and liking it,” the younger prince continued.

“Baldair!” Aldrik’s hand balled into a fist.

“She has blood on her hands!” Prince Baldair’s face jerked back to Aldrik’s. “Do you have the audacity not to feel guilty?”

Aldrik’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

The younger prince shook his head. “At least you do.” He turned back to her with a sorrowful expression. “Vhalla, you don’t need him to shine. I tried to tell you that before the gala. Especially now, you don’t have to force yourself to stomach his presence after what he—”

Vhalla had heard enough, she briskly took the three steps between them, raised her hand and brought her open palm hard across the younger prince’s face.

Vhalla had never slapped anyone before. Perhaps Prince Baldair was right that she had changed significantly these past few months. If it was a change, she decided it was for the better as she felt a deep satisfaction course through her.

His hand went up to the red mark on his cheek, and he stared at her wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Even Aldrik was shocked into a gaping silence.

“Enough!” Vhalla fumbled over her words, her emotions running high. “Don’t you ever make him feel, or suggest that he should, feel guilty for me or on my behalf.” She glared at the golden prince. “And don’t pretend like you somehow know, know how ...” Vhalla felt her insides twist, the currents in her mind cloud. “How I, or, how he ... How we ...” She heard her voice crack, she didn’t want to confront this here.

Prince Baldair’s face fell.

Aldrik spared a glare for his brother before turning his back on him to face Vhalla. He placed one hand on her shoulder, the other gingerly atop her wounded cheek. Aldrik tilted her face to his, and she met his eyes shakily.