“Not thinking again,” the prince drawled, leaning against a bookshelf and looking bored anew.

“I don’t know,” Vhalla said weakly.

“Of course you do.” He yawned.

“No, I don’t,” she insisted, putting her hands on her hips defiantly.

“Then I thought wrong about you. You are boring, like everyone else.” He shrugged and turned, starting down the row of books.

Frustration and helplessness twisted her insides as she watched him go. She had no business speaking to the crown prince.

“Wait!” Her curious mind objected to that obedient, rule-abiding voice within her. “Wait, my prince!” She scampered after him blocking his way.

A small smirk played at the corner of his mouth. The arrogant royal had known she was going to chase after him.

“They weren’t just dreams,” she forced herself to continue. He crossed his arms over his chest cocking his head to the side. “I don’t know what they were, but they weren’t just dreams.”

“Well, that is something; twenty percent I would say. Not yet passing marks.” One corner of Prince Aldrik’s mouth curled upward.

Vhalla stood dazed; she really didn’t know anything more than that. But, she thought, there had to be more. How had he known?

“You knew, the dreams. When I was dreaming, you knew that I was here,” she realized.

“Very good. Now we are getting somewhere, my budding Windwalker.” His eyebrows raised and his grin turned into a smile that Vhalla assured herself wasn’t a sneer.

“Windwalker?” she repeated dumbly.

“You have heard this word before,” he reminded her.

“Sorcerers, from the East,” Vhalla breathed. “But you said there aren’t any more, there haven’t been for over a century.”

“There were not,” the prince corrected.

Vhalla frowned. “You said—”

He cut her off. “I am still your prince. You would do well not to forget that, apprentice. Do not question me so.” Prince Aldrik spoke low and slow.

The expression fell from her cheeks. For the first time Vhalla felt terrified of the man. His proximity gave off a fearsome heat that sent a chill through her. He straightened. She grabbed her hands and wrung them together.

“Forgive me, my prince.” Vhalla lowered her eyes, unable to handle the intensity of his gaze any longer. He turned, walking deeper into the library. “Where are you going now?”

“Stop asking questions and follow,” he ordered with a sigh.

She quickly crossed the distance between them. Vhalla looked down at her feet as she followed behind the mysterious being that was the crown prince.

In that moment of silence, she could appreciate exactly how odd it all was. It was some ungodly hour of the night and a library apprentice was being led by the crown prince to some mystery location. Fear and curiosity compelled her, making her all the more entranced with the man before her. Vhalla had every right to fear the prince and yet, after weeks of exchanging notes, she found him less frightening than she had the Minister of Sorcery.

She was certainly going mad.

“I would have expected you to have put it together. I had you reading books on Affinities to push you toward a realization.” He sighed again, letting out his disappointment. “You seemed so close, too; some of your questions made me think you were wondering about your own potential Affinity. Surely one of your Manifestations has given you a hint.”

“I still don’t believe I am really a sorcerer. I haven’t had any—Manifestations. Nothing about me is magical,” Vhalla whispered, thinking back to the Minister of Sorcery. “Reading the books, I’ve always loved reading. It was easier than talking. Like a child playing games.”

“You are a child.” He looked her up and down with apparent disapproval. “But we are not playing games.” She put her hands together and began to fidget. “And stop that!”

He slapped at her fingers then grabbed her chin, forcing her face up to look at his. The jerking motion was painful, and she barely managed to suppress a whimper. Vhalla was fairly certain he would’ve liked that even less.

“You are a sorcerer—albeit a small, untrained, helpless little slip of a sorcerer—but still a sorcerer! Stop shrinking or you will be an embarrassment to the rest of us,” he scolded at her shocked and helpless expression. His grasp slowly loosened, then relaxed until he was holding her chin with only his knuckles and thumb.

“Your Affinity is air,” Prince Aldrik revealed softly, dropping his hand and turning away from her dumb stare. There was a sudden and surprising gentleness about him, but the moment was fleeting.

“Air?” she repeated, her face hot from his fingers. His touch had felt different than his brother’s contact. Even months after Prince Baldair had caught her in the library, she still remembered the feeling of his calloused fingers on the backs of her knees. Then again, everything about the princes was night and day.

“It is like walking around with a parrot. No, I take that back, the parrot would be better conversation.” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“How do you know?” Vhalla was forced to ask.

“Affinities of the self,” he answered cryptically.

Vhalla did not have time to ask anything further, a gasp stopping the words in her throat.