“Vhalla,” he whispered, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “It’s all right, that’s enough.” She relaxed under the familiar warmth of his gaze, and Aldrik gave her a small smile that was weakly returned.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Prince Baldair murmured.

Aldrik’s hand dropped from her face, but his left remained on her shoulder as he turned to assess his brother.

The younger prince stared at the scene before him with wide eyes. “You really do care for her.”

She felt Aldrik tense at the statement, but he made no motion to move away; if anything, his hand tightened slightly. Vhalla’s heart beat hard. She desperately wanted to leave, to get away as fast as possible. As much as she wanted to hear the bare truth of the answer to that accusation, she didn’t want it to be like this.

“And you ...” Prince Baldair stared at her.

Vhalla mustered the last of her courage to look at him unfaltering. She succeeded well enough—the prince was the first to look away with a shake of his head. He walked heavily over to a chair and slumped into it. The prince rested his temple on his fingertips, staring in disbelief at Aldrik.

“I’d only meant to help her. I thought you were—Aldrik, you’re too smart for this.”

“I know,” Aldrik replied quietly, the tension seemed to have vanished, and sorrow filled his eyes in its place.

“And here I thought, thought you ...” Prince Baldair chuckled and shook his head again. “Ah, never mind.”

“Prince Baldair.” Vhalla took a step forward, and Aldrik’s hand fell from her person. “I’m sorry for my actions today. More importantly, I am sorry for striking you.” She took a breath. “I would appreciate it if-if it isn’t used as a reason to end my life.”

The prince began to laugh; he placed a palm on his stomach and let the melodic sound break the tension in the air.

“No, I rather deserved it, didn’t I?” Vhalla stared at him, stunned. The prince turned to his brother. “It wasn’t her fault today, Aldrik. I think some of what she said actually may have gotten through to the men. You would’ve been proud if you’d seen it, I think.” Prince Baldair shifted to rest his cheek in his hand. “And Vhalla, I’m sorry. That was not a princely way to act.”

Vhalla studied him carefully. On the whole, this man had done more good by her than ill, and he had earned credit while she was on trial that he was spending now. He may be an emotional fool, but Vhalla wasn’t certain he was malicious.

“I forgive you, my prince,” she said. His words still stung but Vhalla put it out of her mind, at least for now.

Vhalla turned back to Aldrik—her tall, wonderful, dark prince—and gave him a relieved smile. His eyes fell softly on her, and it felt as though the tension that had been building between them was close to breaking. It was not an unwelcome feeling.

“Let’s go?” she asked.

He nodded, shooting a final glare at his brother before stalking out.

Vhalla paused briefly, turning. She assessed the fair-haired prince who stared curiously back. “What you wanted from me, I’m afraid I cannot give it.” Vhalla had come to accept that whatever happened, whatever they were, she would not be the one to end it between her and Aldrik.

“Tread carefully, Vhalla,” Prince Baldair cautioned. “I know a lot more about my brother than you. I may seem like an ass.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“I am an ass at times,” he corrected with a chuckle. “But I am exactly what you see. He’s not. There are things about him you still don’t know.”

Vhalla pulled back the tent flap. Even if there were things, Vhalla wasn’t going to hear them from Baldair. Aldrik would tell her, in time.

“And Vhalla?” The prince stood. “Ride up at the front again. Don’t let this dissuade you.”

“Why?” she asked skeptically.

“Because I think it does the men good to see you with me.” He sensed her confusion and continued, “You are a symbol, Vhalla. And, despite what some may have you believe, you have more control over what you symbolize than anyone else.”

“I am no one,” she muttered, hearing Aldrik mounting his War-strider.

“Even something very small can cast a large shadow when it is close to the sun.”

Vhalla considered this for a long moment, searching the prince’s face for a hint of insincerity. She could find none and left him behind her before he had a chance to say something else that could potentially throw the fragile peace into disarray. For everything Prince Baldair was, and had been, somehow he didn’t feel like her enemy.

Aldrik took a foot out of his stirrup for her to use, offering her a hand to mount his horse. Vhalla’s cheeks grew hot as she swung up behind him in the saddle. Her hands fell lightly on his armored waist for balance.

“Where’s Lightning?” she asked.

“My brother’s Easterner rode him back when he went to get Fritznangle.” Aldrik spurred the mount forward.

The wind was fresh and warm on her cheeks after the oppressive atmosphere in the tent.

“Daniel?”

Aldrik nodded mutely.

“Is it a good idea to ride like this?” Vhalla asked softly, noticing the glances from the soldiers.

“I want them to see you with me.” He responded so quickly that there couldn’t have been any thoughts into his words.

“Why?” she breathed.

“Because I want them to know that if they lay a hand on you again, they will deal with me directly.” Aldrik’s voice was deep and harsh, and it made her want to grab onto him and never let him go.

He took them directly to his tent. Black Legion soldiers who had just finished setting it up were beginning to dissipate, and they all peered at her curiously as Aldrik ushered Vhalla within. Getting away from the world’s prying eyes was a relief, but it was equally nerve-wracking to have those prying eyes watch her being led with the prince’s palm on the small of her back.

The moment the tent flap closed, the braziers lined along the perimeter lit with flames. Aldrik didn’t seem to even think about using his magic. “Take this off, I’ll fix it.” He placed a palm on her wounded shoulder.

Vhalla nodded, beginning to unclasp the scale mail as Aldrik did the same. She felt comfortable and nervous at the same time. Aldrik took the plate from her as Vhalla shed her chainmail.

“So what happened?” Aldrik asked.

“Well ...” Vhalla sighed and recounted the events leading up to Baldair’s tent.

“You bested him in the end, though?” he asked after she had finished her story.

“I did.” Vhalla nodded.

“How?”

“I just moved ...” She wasn’t sure what answer he was looking for with such a question.

“Like with Elecia?” Aldrik glanced up from his work on the plate. His thumbs ran over the red hot metal.

“Yes ...” Vhalla trailed off, waiting for him to fill in the blanks. He didn’t, and frustration snuck up on her. “You can’t keep doing this.”

“Keep doing what?” He seemed startled by her tone.

“You can’t keep asking cryptic questions and storming off to sulk without giving me answers that I know you have.” Vhalla was no one, and yet she fearlessly made demands of the crown prince.

Aldrik just sighed and let her. “Fine, stubborn woman.” He placed her repaired armor off to the side. “Do you not think it strange that you are suddenly capable of besting soldiers with years of practice?”

“We’ve been training.” It was a cringe-worthy excuse when Vhalla actually thought about it.

“You were sloppy, at best.” When Aldrik was honest, he held back nothing. “I was beginning to fear for what we would need to do to keep you alive when we reached the North.”

“So, what happened?” Vhalla pressed.

“You fight as I do.” Aldrik met her eyes.

“Of course I do.”

“No, Vhalla.” He shook his head. “You fight exactly as I do.”

“Why?” she whispered.

“I can only assume it to be the Joining,” Aldrik mused.