“Is there another way?” Vhalla finally asked.
“Another way to do what?” Victor leaned forward, his elbows on his desk.
“Destroy the axe, the caves. Is there another way to do it?” Vhalla whispered.
“There is no other way, Vhalla.” Victor frowned. “I have been researching this my whole life. I was the product of such research. Why the sudden hesitation?”
“I just want to be certain,” she mumbled, not wanting to explain herself further. “It is crystal magic, after all. I want to be careful before I get too far . . .”
“Too far into what?” Victor laughed lightly and sat back in his chair. “Vhalla, what is the real root of this? You don’t think I really believe that you’re suddenly hesitant about taint after you carried this halfway across the world, do you?”
Vhalla pressed her lips together. She couldn’t say and decided to busy her mouth with the tea to give her a chance to think of a different approach.
“Is it because of the crown prince?”
Vhalla nearly spit out her tea. She looked at Victor in shock.
“He came to me asking very pointed questions. I know you spoke to him.” The minister’s voice was low and slow, a frigid edge to it. “I need you to trust me, Vhalla. I’m trying to help us all.”
“I know, I do trust you, Victor.” Vhalla placed the cup on the desk, leaning back in her chair.
“Above all else, I need your unquestioning faith.”
“I do trust you.” She frowned, unappreciative of his tone.
“Which is why you felt the need to tell the prince about the axe.” Victor’s words were sharp and clipped.
“He asked!” Vhalla snapped back. “But even if he hadn’t, why can’t he know? He’s the prince and the ultimate head of the Tower.”
At her final statement, Victor’s brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth for some hasty retort—then paused. “He asked?” Victor mulled this over. “Aldrik doesn’t ask unless he’s fairly certain he knows the answer. How did he know?”
Vhalla looked away.
“Vhalla, please,” the minister sighed, pleading. “Tell me the truth. I can’t help anyone if you don’t grant me that.”
She sat at a crossroads—her personal vow to remove lying from her life, as much as possible, against the desire to keep one of the most personal aspects of her life private. Perhaps the minister was right, and she only needed to trust him. “We’re Bonded.”
There was a long stretch of silence where Vhalla wasn’t even sure if Victor had heard her. The man stared at her in shock. “Excuse me?”
“The prince and I, we’re Bonded.” Vhalla wanted to explain as little as possible, but she’d already come this far. “He knew because he felt the magic of the crystals through the Channel between us.”
“A Bond . . .” Victor breathed, as though the veil had suddenly been lifted from a great mechanism he’d been trying to understand for ages. “You and Aldrik have a Bond.”
Vhalla nodded, uncomfortable.
“His ability to see you Projected, his surviving the fall in The Pass, the feats of magic that I hear you two performed together.” Victor pressed his fingertips together in thought, as though he was running through every possibility that surrounded the idea of her and Aldrik being Bonded. “It’s more than a Bond, isn’t it?”
“Joined as well,” she confessed like a child who was put on the spot.
“Bonded and Joined . . .” Victor stood, walking to the window. He surveyed the gray sky for a long moment. “So then, is it safe for me to assume you have his magic in you?”
“I think so.”
“You think so—or you know?” Victor turned and looked at her with an intense expression.
“His fire doesn’t hurt me, so I’m fairly certain,” Vhalla insisted.
“Without doubt?”
“Yes!”
“This is excellent,” he breathed, turning back to the window, tapping the sill. The Minister of Sorcery was suddenly overcome with barely contained energy. “Most excellent, indeed.”
“What is excellent?” Vhalla asked when it became apparent that he wasn’t about to expand upon his mutterings.
“Oh.” He turned quickly, as if remembering she was there. “Because you don’t need to worry so much!” Victor clapped his hands with a smile. “Whatever Aldrik is feeling now should be the worst of what he will feel.”
“Are you sure?” She wasn’t nearly convinced by the minister’s optimistic words.
“You know Aldrik’s and my history.”
“More or less.”