Grahm opened the door, and Vhalla followed Fritz into a small chamber.
There was a single flame bulb overhead, casting the room in light shadow. It was little more than a closet, barely large enough for two people to stand around a center pedestal. Fritz squeezed around to the far side, and Vhalla stood opposite with the door to her back. Square in shape, the pedestal had a shallow indent in the center that was filled with water. It looked almost like a birdbath.
“Place it in the center of the water,” Fritz instructed.
Vhalla did as she was told, gingerly putting down her precious possession with two hands.
“Fritz,” she whispered.
“Yeah?” His eyes were glued onto the bracelet.
“What’s going to happen?”
“Oh, right.” Fritz shook his head. “I forget you’re still technically new to the Tower. Vessels can store magic. But with a skilled Waterrunner—like Grahm—they can also hold words.”
“Words?” Vhalla stared at the unassuming piece of jewelry.
Fritz nodded and lifted his hands, placing his fingertips into the edge of the water. Her friend took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Vhalla watched as his magic pulsed outward, generating shimmering ripples in the water. At first, the ripples bounced away from the bracelet in small waves, as they would any normal object. But the pulsing changed, and eventually the ripples hit the bracelet, stopping as though they were absorbed.
Vhalla waited expectantly, clutching the watch around her neck tightly. Larel had been Aldrik’s friend, too . . . Should he hear what was about to be said as well?
The water hummed from the speech of a speaker who wasn’t there, silencing all Vhalla’s thoughts.
“Vhalla, Fritz.” It was Larel’s voice. Vhalla’s hand flew up to her mouth. She took an unsteady breath at the sound of her dead friend’s voice once more filling her ears, as though Larel stood with them once more. “I know what it means if you are listening to this. It means I walk the Father’s halls.”
Vhalla looked at her friend. Fritz’s expression was equal parts pain and joy. She was certain hers matched.
“It’s all right. I want you to know it’s all right.”
Vhalla wanted to scream at Larel that it wasn’t. That it was Vhalla’s fault Larel had been on the march in the first place. Vhalla had been given a gift in Larel, and she had never fully appreciated it before it was lost.
“I knew before I left what it may mean for me. And, if you are listening now, then it means one or both of you, and I so pray for the latter, survived me. That alone brings me joy.
“I hope no one is doing anything silly like blaming themselves for my death. It doesn’t matter how it came to pass. Please don’t waste your thoughts on such nonsense.” Larel’s voice was as gentle and kind as it always had been. “My life was borrowed from the moment Prince Aldrik found me. My existence was given an extension, a chance to really live. And live I did. It was simply my time to return what the Mother gave me.”
Vhalla closed her eyes and breathed, absorbing every word.
“I wanted to tell you both not to worry. I wanted to make sure you both knew.” There was a wavering pause that nearly stopped Vhalla’s heart altogether. “Fritz, it was always us, wasn’t it? When the prince disappeared from my life for a time, you were the first one to be there for me.
“All the rest of them told me it was about time I was no longer the prince’s favorite. You never seemed to care. You were there when I needed you most, and I never forgot. I love you, my friend. I would gladly die for you—and if I did, I know I am content that I could give my life for my brother.”
Fritz hung his head, and Vhalla bit her lip. It was not this well-loved friend who had taken their dear Larel from them. It was Vhalla who bore that curse.
“Vhalla.” She looked at the bracelet at the mention of her name. “I have only known you for a few months, and then not entirely intimately. I don’t know what will happen on this long march—what has happened—where we will be. But if I want to leave you with one thing . . . It is that I am, and have always been, honored to be your mentor.
“You are strong. You are a chick that has burst from its shell, and you are already struggling to fly long before you should ever be pushed from the nest.” Vhalla heard the touch of sorrow in Larel’s voice. “I want you to know that I have always helped and protected you because I wanted to. Not because Prince Aldrik asked me to.”
Vhalla laughed softly, shaking her head at all that had transpired. There was no question in her mind.