“Not bad, considering,” Vhalla answered honestly. “Thank you truly, Elecia. I would’ve died without you.”
“Yes, you would’ve.” Elecia shook her head dramatically. “You’re unlikely to stay in one piece without me being near.”
“Seems so.” Vhalla glanced up at the loft when she heard the creaking of wood. “I’m going into town with the girls, test out riding.”
“Good idea.” Elecia nodded, watching Reona and Cass descend the ladder. “Aldrik will regret it if he’s not there to perform the Rite of Sunset for Baldair.”
The thought hadn’t occurred to Vhalla, but she instantly knew it was true. Aldrik would never let a crone perform the rite. It would be his flames to send Baldair into the realms of the Father.
“I hear you’re coming with us?” Reona yawned.
“If you’ll have me.” She needed to ensure she could ride as fast as possible. If not, she’d encourage Aldrik to return home ahead of her.
“Reona, check the larder on the way to the barn,” Cass asked her sister.
“When we return to the capital, I will see that the Ci’Dan family shows their appreciation to the fullest extent for what you have done for us.” Elecia met the eyes of the eldest Charem child. “Were it not for you, the life of our prince would have surely been forfeit. If we were stuck out in this winter, it would have been the end of all of us.”
“Truly, it has been our honor,” Cass said, ever mindful of her place in the world.
“Dresses! And axes! We want dresses and sharp axes!” Reona chimed in eagerly from the doorway. Cass shot her a glare. “I mean, yeah, our honor,” she coughed.
Vhalla followed Cass out to the barn, bundled in a spare riding cloak of Reona’s. She didn’t have the energy to dread returning to the capital as she likely should, she only felt exhausted. The world had spun so fast it’d fallen off its axis, and Vhalla felt like she would be chasing it forever to try to get back on, just to live.
A surprise waited for Vhalla when they reached the open-style barn that housed the family’s horses and small pens of livestock. Each stall was packed fuller than it should have been to keep all the animals out of the heavy snow, but Vhalla could easily pick out a steed slightly larger than the others.
Lightning, the mount that had carried her across the continent, whinnied as she pet his nose with her palm. He had always been a smart horse, and while it may have been her wishful thinking, the steed seemed to remember her. The horse had been well taken care of. He was strong, and his trot was familiar the second Vhalla was once more upon his back.
For a time, she had wondered what had become of her Lightning after leaving the North. Now she had no doubt who had taken care of him. Especially after Baston’s death. Vhalla glanced over her shoulder back to the slowly shrinking home, left behind as she followed Cass and Reona toward town. She wondered if Aldrik had managed to go back to sleep.
Her eyes fell on the barn once more, and Vhalla picked out the mount she’d ridden alongside Victor. Victor, the name made her blood bubble so hotly that Vhalla could ignore the pain in her shoulder due to the jostling of the horse. He’d been planning to use her from the start. He’d seen her saved from the Senate, and then he’d turned the Senate’s sentence into an opportunity to get the axe. He’d trained her himself upon her return. He’d prepared her as carefully as a prize hog for slaughter.
He was the greatest puppet master the world had ever known. He’d manipulated princes and Emperors for his own vision. It’d be admirable, if that vision wasn’t a twisted and corrupt thing.
The woods were washed in white, and Vhalla tried to turn her thoughts away from lusting after the former Minister of Sorcery’s death. There were no others nearby, and the snow was pure and unblemished. The girls chattered on about this or that which they could also pick up in town. At a quarter day’s ride away, Vhalla had no doubt that going into town was indeed an affair. It had been the same for her as a child, and she remembered with fondness every time her mother would take her into Leoul proper.
Whistling through the trees, the wind whipped her cloak around her. Vhalla drew her hood. Holding out a hand, the air slipped through her open palm. It felt different. She was once more normal, no more special than the girls she rode with. Vhalla looked up to the sky, broken and blotched by trees; there was one man who now felt what truly blew in the wind and she hated him all the more for it. Her red-chilled hands gripped the reins once more.