“What?” Vhalla snapped herself out of her thoughts.
Larel’s interest had clearly been piqued. She hadn’t inquired last night when Vhalla returned, exhausted and bleary eyed, and had been silent all morning.
“With the prince,” Fritz dropped his voice. “Do you have a better idea of how to Channel?”
“I think so.” Vhalla nodded.
“Good, good!” Fritz beamed. “You’ll get the hang of it in a few weeks, I’m sure.”
Vhalla felt the magic crackling around her fingers. She didn’t need a few weeks, she could do it now. Her body knew it. But she didn’t have an opportunity to correct Fritz as the horns blew, summoning everyone back to their places in the host.
The soldiers moved more slowly now. A week of marching had begun to take its toll on the new recruits. Vhalla’s legs were stiff and sore-ridden from her own saddle. She had no idea how the men and women who walked were managing. How would they fight when they reached the North?
Aldrik was slow as well this morning, the host was practically moving when he rode up from the outside. Even in all his bulky armor he was still full of poise atop his War-strider. Her heartbeat began to race and, as if sensing it, Aldrik’s eyes found hers. Tension radiated between them, even across a dozen people.
He pulled hard on his reins and turned his mount, riding along the outside of the host to a few rows behind Vhalla. She watched the prince as he fell into line beside Elecia. Vhalla tore her eyes away before she saw more than a moment of their immediate and engaging conversation. There was an ugly emotion within her, one she wasn’t used to and didn’t know how to combat.
“I’m going to ride up at the front,” she announced.
“Why?” Fritz seemed startled by her suddenly declaration.
“I have friends up there,” Vhalla mumbled.
“You have friends here,” Fritz retorted, not understanding.
Vhalla wasn’t sure if she could, or should, explain it to him. From the corners of her eyes Vhalla saw Larel’s attention sweep back toward Aldrik and Elecia. The Western woman was too attentive for her own good.
“It’s nothing you did, Fritz.” Vhalla found the strength to smile, and grab his forearm supportively. “Just some people I want to see.”
There was no further protest from Fritz or Larel on the matter. As Vhalla cut through the ranks, she made sure to catch Aldrik’s eyes. It was nasty to admit, but she wanted him to watch her ride away and feel that same ugly emotion that he had evoked in her.
The Golden Guard wasn’t hard to find; a group of three surrounding the younger prince with golden plated bracers. They marched at the center of the host, and Vhalla faltered at the foul looks she received from the soldiers at the edge. She was about to ride back as the whispers started when Daniel turned in her direction.
“Vhalla!” he called, almost dislocating his arm to wave her over. Soldiers parted in shock, and Vhalla had no option but to heed him. “We weren’t expecting you.” Daniel smiled, and Vhalla instantly felt easier.
“Not in the slightest.” Prince Baldair’s words deflated her.
“I hope it’s no trouble.” Vhalla lowered her eyes.
Daniel held his tongue for the prince.
“Don’t worry yourself so much.” The prince waved away her insecurities with a full bellied laugh. “I said it was fine.”
“This may be the first time a sorcerer rode with the swords,” Craig remarked.
Vhalla believed it from the looks the other soldiers gave her.
“Vhalla, this is Raylynn.” Daniel motioned to a woman who rode at Baldair’s right. She had long blonde hair, the color of a Southerner’s. But it was straight, like a Westerner’s would be, and her skin held an olive tan.
“Nice to meet you,” Vhalla said politely.
The woman regarded her thoughtfully for a long moment. She had eyes like Aldrik, Vhalla noticed. Black and piercing, they confirmed Vhalla’s suspicion of Western blood in the woman’s veins—if her sun-kissed skin wasn’t proof enough—and cut through Vhalla easily.
“You’re the Windwalker.” It was the second time the phrase wasn’t posed as a question.
“I am,” Vhalla affirmed.
“Ray, be nice.” Daniel maneuvered his horse next to Vhalla’s. Raylynn gave Vhalla one last long assessment before unleashing a series of hushed whispers to the prince. Daniel kept Vhalla from listening in. “Ray had family on the Night of Fire and Wind,” he whispered.
Vhalla pulled taught the reins, ready to turn Lightning around and ride back to her place in line. A golden gauntlet quickly covered her hand. She looked up at Daniel in confusion and frustration.
“Don’t go. I think it’ll do her good.”