She was so exhausted by the time she called it a day that her body nearly ached from magic depletion. But she wasn’t too tired to miss spending time with her messy-haired friend. So in the late afternoon, Vhalla found herself leaning against the wall of the alcove she shared with Fritz, reading in the Tower library.
Fritz broke the silence with a stretch and a yawn. “Vhal, I’ve been wondering.”
“Wondering what?” Vhalla’s eyes continued to scan the words of the book she was reading.
“What do you do with the minister?”
Vhalla knew the question would come eventually. She should’ve thought of some kind of response before being put on the spot. But she hadn’t, and there she was, struggling to form an answer. Lying would be easiest.
“We’re working on something.”
“What?” Fritz couldn’t just let it be.
“Something involving my magic.”
“So, special Windwalker training?” Fritz hummed.
“Something like that,” Vhalla replied with a nod, flipping the page.
“Do you like it here?” His question surprised her, and the silence prompted him to continue. “In the Tower, do you like being part of the Tower?”
“Where else would I be?” She had nowhere else to go. If she went home, she was likely to bring danger to her father. She was safest in the Tower and could help the most there also. Maybe she’d go home after the axe was destroyed.
Fritz frowned slightly. “You never leave. You’re tired all the time, on edge.”
Vhalla rubbed her eyes, instantly annoyed with her friend for being right.
“You’re almost as bad as you were on the march.”
“I just have some things on my mind.” Vhalla closed her book with a sigh.
“Talk about them? We’re friends, talk to me.”
She smiled sadly at her friend. Fritz had such an innocent hopefulness about him, despite the fact that Vhalla knew he had just as much blood on his hands as she. How he had managed to salvage his soul from the Northern campaign escaped Vhalla, but she wished he could’ve taught her before the war ended.
“It’s nothing.” Vhalla squeezed Fritz’s hand encouragingly. “I’m trying out some new Windwalker things with the minister, so I am exhausted.”
“All right.” Fritz still looked skeptical.
“Tell me, how have things with Grahm been?” Vhalla knew just what change in topic would shift the Southerner’s focus completely.
However, she still felt a little guilty for not being entirely honest with him. It was the least she could do, she felt, to heed his words and escape the Tower for a bit. So after Fritz had gone off to work with Grahm on vessels again, Vhalla wandered out for the first time since the Court day.
She wasn’t going to head to the Imperial library, not without purpose, given her last confrontation with Roan. So Vhalla headed to the only other place in the palace she knew she would find friends—the training grounds. The Golden Guard was present, as expected. Raylynn worked with archers, Daniel was drilling swords again, and Erion sat behind a table under a sun shade propped up by four posts.
“I hear you caused quite the stir at court.” Erion glanced up at her as she crossed out of the sun. He had papers spread across the table with times and names written on them. Vhalla could only assume it was some sort of schedule for the guards.
“I tend to cause a stir wherever I go.” Vhalla leaned against the table and looked out over the training grounds.
“That you do,” Erion chuckled. “Are you here to interrupt my training, then?”
“Maybe,” Vhalla mused. “Why, do you need a stir caused?” She grinned back at the Western man.
“Oh, I’m sure I could find something for you to do.” Erion made some marks on the papers, pressing the parchment down to the table as the wind tried to carry it away. Vhalla waved a hand and the wind stopped. His eyes jumped up to her.
“You looked like you were having trouble.”
“Practical as ever.” Erion focused for a moment, before speaking in between scribing.
A thought occurred to her as she stared across the men and women practicing at war. “Why don’t the Tower sorcerers train here?”
“They have their own training grounds in the Tower,” Erion answered.
“These are better. Why don’t they use this?”
“If I had to guess, it’s because of tensions between the soldiers and the sorcerers.”
“Foolish,” Vhalla muttered. “Let me train with them?”
Erion glanced up at her, gauging her intent. Finding her serious, he spoke, “What would you like to do?”
“Just some sparring would be sufficient, I think. You said you could find something for me to do.” Vhalla smiled. Baldair had once told her to ride with the men so they saw her with him. That didn’t stop now that the march was over, she resolved. She’d be seen among the soldiers, and she’d work to bridge the gap between them and their brothers and sisters in black.
Vhalla was put into the main ring with Jax. It had a short wall built around the perimeter with a ledge above for spectators. Erion sent swords and pole arms in batches so each would get a round with the two soldiers in black. Being a member of the Golden Guard, Jax had trained with them before. As it was Vhalla’s first time, it took coaxing and encouragement of the soldiers who remembered her from the front in order to get the other soldiers into the ring with her.
Vhalla leaned against the side wall, catching her breath while Jax trained. His fighting style was a rough and wild combination of jumps and kicks. His flames soared through the air and crackled along the ground. It was different from the close-ranged combat Aldrik preferred. Jax kept his opponents at bay with bursts of fire, finishing with him plucking a dagger from some hidden location as soon as his opponent was prone on the ground.
“I need a breather, fight the lady.” He waved off the next soldier, crossing over to her. “All yours.” Jax motioned for her to enter the ring.
Vhalla adjusted the jerkin she’d been lent, shaking out the stiffness in her muscles. It’d been too long since she’d last trained, and she made a vow to do so more often.
“Daniel?” Vhalla blinked.
“I heard the Windwalker was sparring.” The Easterner gave her an easy smile that removed the awkwardness the Court had created during their last encounter. “Thought I’d see if I fared any better than the last time I went against your winds.”
“I’m not so sure you will,” Vhalla replied coyly.
“No?” Daniel chuckled. “Let’s make a wager then.”
“Of what sort?”
“If I win, let me show you my home?”
That certainly wasn’t what she’d been expecting. “And if I win?”
“I’ll do any one thing you ask of me.” Daniel drew his sword, a beautiful rapier with a golden pommel in the shape of wheat.
“Anything?” Vhalla raised her eyebrows.
“They say make love, not war,” Jax shouted down from the spectators’ ring that lined the training pit. “I frankly don’t care as long as you two get to one or the other.”
The peanut gallery burst into laughter.
“Is that how you treat a lady, Jax? There’s more to it than just saying hello and putting a sword through her eye!” Daniel jested back.
“Mate, if you’re going for the eye, your sword is in the wrong place!” A roar of laughter threatened to deafen them.
Daniel rolled his eyes and Vhalla found herself joining in laughter with the rest of them. It was all lighthearted jesting. He eased himself into a fighting stance and held his sword as gently as she would a quill.
“You have your deal!” The words rang out. What could it hurt?
“Enough stalling. Fight!” Jax cried.
Daniel waited for her to charge. Vhalla pressed the wind against her heels and targeted his face with an apparent attack. He swung his sword upward, and Vhalla nimbly stepped out of its arc, dropping and sweeping her foot. The soldier did a half jump-step to avoid being tripped.