“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.