Vhalla slipped into a narrow space between two buildings, climbing over crates and working her way away from the crowd being whipped into a frenzy. What was she going to do now? Her fingers ran up and down the leather sheath of the axe, as if it held the answers she sought. As if it could solve all her problems by cutting, cutting, and cutting everyone who opposed her . . .
So engulfed in her thoughts, she missed hearing the footsteps growing behind her. Two arms suddenly snatched her and a palm clamped over Vhalla’s mouth. Magic was swift under her fingers until a familiar male voice hastily spoke.
“Finally found you.”
VHALLA TWISTED ON her toes, pulling herself from the man’s grasp. Her heart raced. She didn’t know if it would’ve been worse to have a Knight of Jadar or the man she faced. If he was a Knight, she could’ve at least killed him and been off again.
Her eyes absorbed the tall shape, the Western olive skin, and the long dark hair that was pulled back into a bun.
“Jax.”
“You never disappoint, do you?” The man gave her a wild grin and a shake of his head. “The Windwalker disappears for weeks, and when she shows up, it’s to murder Western lords. Didn’t you see enough blood at the warfront?”
Vhalla scowled murderously. How dare he? “What do you want?”
“You don’t seem happy to see me.” The man cocked his head to the side. “Here I thought we were friends.”
“What do you want?” she repeated, her hand twitching for the axe. He’d better not make her repeat it again. He was her friend, but her patience ran thinner with every beat of her heart.
“To help you.” Jax folded his arms over his chest.
She laughed and turned. “I don’t have time for you. Go back to the guard.”
“Where are you going?” Jax fell into step behind her.
“Away.” Vhalla’s eyes darted over her shoulder. No one was following them, but she could see frantically running silhouettes of men and women on the street.
“Did you kill those men?” Jax’s tone turned serious.
“I said I don’t have time for you.”
To his credit, he moved fast enough to catch her off guard. Jax’s palm gripped her shoulder, turning them both, forcing her against the wall. Her back hit hard and Vhalla glared, prepared to give him a string of insults. As was the man’s nature, he stilled her with a look that whispered of something deeply troubling.
“Did you kill them?”
“I did.” There was no remorse and no hesitation.
Jax cursed under his breath. “All right, come. Baldair or Aldrik will fix this.”
Vhalla twisted her arm out of his grasp the moment he reached for it. They locked in a staring contest that Vhalla broke with the first word. “I’m not going back to them.”
“Vhalla—”
“No. I’m not running to the princes at every turn. If I did, the Knights will never see me as someone they need to fear.”
“If you run, then those same princes will be forced to brand you a murderer.” Jax leaned against the wall with a sigh. He seemed more exasperated than horrified by her insistence.
“It’s not the first time I’ve fought for my innocence,” Vhalla retorted smartly.
“You will be hunted.”
“I already am.”
“They will condemn you. If you do this, you may never be able to return to the life you had.”
Vhalla’s shoulders shook, and she freed haunted laughter into the air. “Return to the life I had? That option left me long ago.” Her hand rested on the axe holster once more. “If I want a future, I’m going to have to cut it from the hands of fate myself.”
Jax stilled, assessing her. Vhalla took a step backward, giving him a half-mad smile of her own. The man was indeed kind, in his own way. But she was too old to have people mothering her.
“If you insist.” He adjusted his bun and straightened away from the wall. “Then I’m coming with you.”
“What?” That was the last thing she expected to hear. “No, I need to do this alone—”
“Save me the speech.” Jax rolled his eyes. “Guards have already been called, and they’re going to be scouting the city. You have blood on your hands—literally—and I’m going to venture a good guess that you have nowhere to go. The Knights will move fast. You need a Westerner to help you navigate these alleyways.”
Vhalla knew what he was offering was more than help escaping through the narrow passages between buildings. He was offering her his knowledge of Western culture. His insights into the seedy shadows, which she could lurk within and be lost. His wisdom was gained from years of time spent around princes—and the very same lords Vhalla was determined to slay.
“You will become my accomplice,” she pointed out.
Jax grinned madly. “They can only strip me of my nobility once—for murdering a lord.”
Vhalla blinked, blindsided.