She could maintain her Channel easily, monitoring the wind for any sounds. For an hour or two, Vhalla tried to identify the patch of forest she had run through, but it was hopeless as all the trees appeared identical—a giant black wall separating them from every remaining Northerner who would cut them down.
Her thoughts jumped from one bitter, exhausted emotion into the next. By the time the sun crested the horizon, Vhalla’s limbs were numb and she was in a foul mood. She dragged her feet toward Fritz’s tent, not even bothering with the camp palace.
Fritz and Elecia were both fast asleep when Vhalla pushed her way into the tent. Throwing her pack into a far corner, she collapsed, armor and all, half on top of the tent’s actual occupants. Fritz didn’t do anything more than groan and roll away. Elecia woke with a start and was ready to choke Vhalla in surprise.
“By the Gods, what’s wrong with you?” Elecia groaned, flopping down indignantly when she realized who had half fallen on her.
“Silence.”
“You smell like a dog, and you’re covered in mud.” Elecia sniffed.
It had begun drizzling on and off for the second half of the night. Vhalla had hardly paid it any mind as the air was so thick in the jungle that it always felt damp. But now that she wasn’t moving, she could feel her clothes were soaked and clinging underneath her armor.
“Move,” Vhalla muttered her one word command, sitting. “I need to change.”
Vhalla opened her pack, running her fingers over the leather flap. It felt so good to have it back that she almost forgot the frustrations she’d fostered throughout the evening. The clothes were mostly clean, and they were hers, threadbare holes and all.
She tugged off her armor and peeled the wet tunic off her pale and wrinkled flesh. Elecia raised her eyebrows, glancing at Fritz as Vhalla began to undo the bindings around her breasts. “What?” Vhalla gave Elecia a tired grin. “He’s sleeping, and even if he wasn’t, he’s hardly interested.”
“Even so,” Elecia huffed. “You’re a Duchess of the West; have some modesty.”
“We’re friends, and you’re a woman as well.” Vhalla shrugged and made a show of her changing. The West had their notions of modesty and the South had their ideals of ladyship. Vhalla was Eastern, so she wasn’t constrained by either. More importantly, it annoyed Elecia. And that energized Vhalla’s tired body.
Clipping back into the armor Aldrik had made for her, Vhalla felt more herself than she had in a long time. It wasn’t the same self she’d been the last time she’d worn the clothes. She was different now. Part Serien, part Vhalla, and part a woman who was still emerging.
Elecia waited until Vhalla was done before speaking again, barely audible. “By the way, Aldrik asked me to get this to you.” Elecia held out a small vial. If Vhalla didn’t know better, she’d think it was poison given the nearly murderous glint in the Western woman’s eyes. Vhalla took it hesitantly, raising her eyebrows and waiting for an explanation.
“Elixir of the Moon,” Elecia explained, frowning. Comprehension chased skepticism from Vhalla’s brow. “It’s for—”
“I know what it’s for.” Vhalla grinned at Elecia. The other woman’s cheeks flushed, and Vhalla realized that the noble had yet to have a reason to take the potion herself. Vhalla had only had one real occasion to prior, but she hoped the potion Elecia made tasted better than the sewage she’d forced down before.
It didn’t, and Vhalla grimaced sourly.
“You’ve had it before?” Elecia was too surprised to keep decorum.
“Twice, one man.” Vhalla nodded.
“Low-born Easterners with their affections,” Elecia mumbled. “Does Aldrik know?”
“Of course he does.” She was offended. Did Elecia really think Vhalla wouldn’t tell Aldrik that?
The curly-haired woman shook her head. “Be careful with him, Vhalla.” Elecia glanced over at Fritz to make sure the Southerner was still sleeping. “His heart isn’t as strong as he’d like people to think it is. He’s not actually made of stone and fire.”
Vhalla didn’t know why she was compelled to touch the other woman, but her hand grabbed Elecia’s forearm reassuringly. Aldrik’s cousin met her eyes and searched. “I know he’s not. That’s one of the many reasons why I love him.”
Both Vhalla and Elecia turned as the tent pole vibrated from a few knocks.
“‘Cia,” Jax said softly. “Is Vhalla there?”
“I am.” Vhalla moved to repack her clothes when a glint of silver caught her eye.
Jax stuck his head into the tent, crouching on the outside. “You have someone worried about you.”
“I bet I do,” Vhalla agreed tiredly.
“Where were you?” It suddenly dawned on Elecia that Vhalla wasn’t where the other woman had assumed her to be: Aldrik’s bed.
“I got put on patrol.” Vhalla rolled her eyes, fishing out the dark fabric at the bottom of her pack.
“Who put you on patrol?” Elecia seemed surprised.
“Doesn’t matter.” Vhalla shook her head, deciding it was best to ignore the Western major who seemed to hold a grudge against her for no reason. The man was likely just trying to glean favors from the Emperor. Their leader’s distaste for Vhalla was becoming more apparent by the day, and she had no doubt that a sum of gold may be given to someone who made Vhalla’s life miserable.
She ran her fingers over the silver stitching that affixed a piece of the wing design sewn onto the back of the cloak her doppelganger had worn. This was the last cloak; the other two had been lost when their wearers had fallen.
“Well, he’s called you for breakfast.” Jax didn’t need to explain who he was.
“I’ll come too.” Elecia was quick on Vhalla’s heels as they left the tent.
Fritz groaned and rolled over, sleeping on.
“He’ll likely need another round of potions. And if he was worrying ...” Elecia glanced between Jax and Vhalla, biting on her thumbnail lightly. “Likely something for his head, too.”
“It wasn’t too many cups. I already took care of that.” Jax waved the notion away.
Vhalla stared at the rolled up cloak a moment longer, debating if she should put it back or not. It would be a rather bold statement to wear. But there was a deep satisfaction at the idea of the Emperor seeing her wear it. She would don the thing he had used to take her name.
As the cloak unrolled, Elecia let out a soft gasp. Jax’s eyes narrowed. And Vhalla gripped the garment tightly.
A deep gash started from the middle of the silver wing that was emblazoned upon it. It tore through the fabric before being joined by other slashes. It was as though someone had taken a dagger to the cloak, tearing it to ribbons from the chest downward.
“Where did you get that?” Jax asked darkly.
Vhalla stared in dull shock at the strips of black. Had it been Tim? The girl had seemed so friendly. She’d walked and chatted with Vhalla for half the night.
“Someone is trying to send you a message.” Elecia finally gave words to what they all were thinking.
Vhalla absorbed the situation for a moment longer, before throwing the tattered cloak over her armored shoulders. She tied it in the front and let the shredded fabric fall to her ankles. It gave the appearance that she had endured some violent assault. “Good.” Vhalla tightened her hands into fists, letting her Channel cut through her exhaustion. She hadn’t slept more than a few hours the last two nights, and something told her it was going to be another long day. “I have a message of my own to send.”
She started for the camp palace, leaving Elecia and Jax to catch up behind her. Vhalla squinted in the morning sun, steeling herself for whatever the day would bring. It didn’t matter who was threatening her now, Emperor or otherwise; they’d all end up disappointed when the battle was done and she was still standing.