“How did you know?”

“Aldrik found me.” Larel smiled softly, and Vhalla gave a weak laugh. “Do you want help changing?” the older woman asked.

Vhalla shook her head. “Compared to some other experiences I’ve had when I’ve used that much magic, this isn’t that bad.” She could already feel the potion Aldrik had given her working.

Larel nodded. “All right, I’ll leave you to it then. I’d recommend this one before you go.” Larel pulled a vial of purple liquid and placed it by the chest of medicinal items. “It’ll numb things a bit and should level your head, if you need.”

“Thank you,” Vhalla said earnestly.

“Of course, Vhalla. Fritz and I are staying in this inn also. Your friends in the Golden Guard as well. We’ll be here when you get back. Good luck.” The woman smiled and departed.

Vhalla wondered what she was really being wished luck for.

She dressed as quickly as possible but it was also an opportunity to take stock of the condition of her body. Her shoulders were stiff and felt swollen; her elbows also reminded her of the pressure she had placed them under. Her hands were a bit of a mess, but on a positive side, nothing seemed broken.

There was a mirror in the room that instantly caught Vhalla’s attention. It was full-length, and she saw herself for the first time in months. Her hair had grown, down to somewhere around her shoulders, falling in tangled brown waves. Her face had thinned and her eyes seemed to have sunken slightly, the shadow of her brow bringing out the flecks of gold around her pupils. Muscles she didn’t even know she possessed were beginning to take form beneath taught skin. Even bandaged, she had a sharp and strong appearance, more confident than she felt.

Aldrik returned as she was taking an assessment of her condition. An odd mix of emotions overtook him the moment he saw her, and Vhalla’s heart instantly raced. She took a step toward him, swaying slightly at the pain in her knees. He was there in an instant, his arms supporting hers for balance.

“This is a bad idea.” His voice was low and it rumbled through his chest.

“I have a lot of those lately,” she said softly. Vhalla regained her footing and stepped away. She was afraid of what those dark eyes might see if she lingered too closely for too long. “Shall we?”

He pursed his lips together for a tentative breath but said nothing.

Aldrik walked first, holding the door open for her and leading her down a short flight of stairs. He wrapped an arm around her waist and held one of her hands in his as she hobbled downward. Daniel, Craig, Fritz, and Larel were milling about in an upscale lobby, clearly waiting for her. Aldrik made no haste in dropping his hands from her person.

“You really are alive,” Daniel whispered, as though she was a ghost.

“Vhal!” Fritz threw his arms around her shoulders, nearly knocking her off her feet.

“Fritznangle,” Aldrik cautioned, taking a step toward the Southerner.

“Vhal, you were stunning! It was like the Mother banishing the night. Just this tiny little thing against that huge, massive, gigantic, storm!” Fritz babbled like a madman.

Another walked from a corner of the room, someone that Vhalla had not noticed before. Two emerald eyes assessed Vhalla thoughtfully.

“You’re one of the craziest people I’ve ever met.” Elecia placed a hand on her hip and shifted her weight to extend the other to Vhalla. “And because of that, I owe you my life.”

Vhalla reached out, clasping her bandaged palm against Elecia’s.

“Thank you, Vhalla Yarl,” Elecia uttered the most sincere words Vhalla had ever heard from her.

Vhalla was in a daze as she headed for the door. Aldrik held it open for her and she stepped out into the dawn. Red streaked across the horizon, washing a crowded square in oranges and pinks. Large buildings constructed of marble and sandstone glittered in the twilight. They sported proportionally sized pennons, reds and blacks of the West and whites and golds of the Empire. The ground beneath her was polished stone, and Vhalla looked upon the center of the world in wonder.

“That one.” Aldrik pointed to a building on the other side of the square with three large, circular stained glass windows upon its front. “Do you need me to help you?”

“No.” Vhalla shook her head. “Just knowing you’re here is enough.” She allowed him to read into it as he liked.

Vhalla had taken no more than three steps when the first member of the Black Legion noticed her. He walked over, giving her the salute of the Broken Moon. This inspired the next to come up and offer her thanks and praise. Her eyes caught Aldrik’s in confusion and wonder. He heaped silent admiration upon her, and Vhalla felt a flush rise to her cheeks.

It was slow going due to being stopped at every step. The Black Legion had been waiting at the door, but Vhalla noticed that the majority of the people in the square were soldiers. They paused what they were doing, stopping at the sight of her.

A man of rank drew the sword that was strapped to his hip. She glanced at Aldrik nervously, remembering the last time she’d encountered the swordsmen. The man brought his feet together and stood tall. His left hand went to the small of his back as he raised his sword over his chest and face in a pristine salute with his right.

She wasn’t certain what he wanted from her, and Vhalla nervously took another step. An older woman repeated the motion. Swordless, she brought her right fist to her chest in salute.

Vhalla took another step. Two more stepped forward in salute.

Every step Vhalla took there was another, and another, and another. They began to line her path, holding their salutes in reverence even after she’d moved on. Vhalla turned as the entire square—man, woman, child, soldier, and citizen—showed their own display of reverence.

“Do they always do this for you here?” Vhalla whispered to Aldrik. The attention made her nervous.

He stared at her, bewildered. “Vhalla,” Aldrik leaned close to her ear. “They are not saluting me, they are saluting you.”

No one said a word; they held their honors quietly, and their silence spoke so loudly in her ears that Vhalla wanted to cry. For the first time since becoming a sorcerer she felt a mass looking at her with respect, with praise. As much as it hurt her body, she held herself taller.

The Emperor and Prince Baldair were waiting on the outside the building Aldrik was leading her toward. Emperor Solaris surveyed the scene with his ocean-blue eyes, landing on the woman who was being led by his eldest son and saluted by his people. He folded his hands behind his back in a position that struck Vhalla as very Aldrik.

“If it is not the hero of the day.” The Emperor spoke loud enough that most of the square heard.

Vhalla dropped into a clumsy kneel, her knees popping and aching.

“My lord, thank you for your invitation,” she said respectfully, lowering her eyes.

“Stand, Vhalla Yarl. You are the most welcome savior of my army,” he commanded lightly.

Vhalla put both hands on her upward knee and struggled to stand, grimacing at the creaking in her legs. She felt much older than her eighteen years and could feel the tension radiating off Aldrik at her pain, but he made no motion. Vhalla was thankful he allowed her to do it on her own before his father and all those who had assembled.

“Come, I wish to bestow my thanks upon you.” The Emperor took a step back, and Prince Baldair held open the doors for them.

HHE BUILDING SHE entered was like a small palace. Alabaster, marble, silver, gold, and gemstones glittered everywhere. As the sun rose, it was piped in through portholes in the walls, giving the opulence new life. The Emperor led her into a side sitting room. There were couches and a table to eat at, opposite a tall, standing table cluttered with papers.