Air Awakens

Vhalla closed her eyes with a small sigh and felt her body relax a fraction before slipping back into the welcoming darkness.

It was night the next time Vhalla woke. Her room was empty save for a small bowl of fruit, a loaf of bread, and a series of vials on the table next to her. She slowly eased herself into a seated position. The stones had been removed, but her vision seemed to be holding steady. The world shifted a little, but her stomach remained settled—she considered it a small victory. Vhalla assessed the food cautiously. Bread and fruit would hurt more than bile coming up.

Her hand paused midair so she could assess the bruises and scratches that marred her skin. Even the moonlight made her feel uneasy as she involuntarily recalled the last time she had seen the celestial body. Vhalla retrieved one of the small red fruits and brought it back into her lap, a strawberry. She smiled faintly.

Long ago her mother had planted some strawberry shrubs near their home. Every year they had eaten the few sweet berries the plants yielded. Despite their love of the fruit, neither Vhalla nor her father seemed to have the energy to maintain the plants after her mother died from Autumn Fever. She hadn’t eaten a strawberry since then. Even if they had been available to apprentices, Vhalla didn’t know if she would have been emotionally willing.

A few stray tears dripped into her palms as she looked down at the tiny fruit. She was so far from home—felt so small and broken. Her body was foreign to her, to the point that her mind didn’t even recognize it. She had something in her, magic that she had never known and didn’t think she wanted.

She wasn’t supposed to have to deal with this. She was a library apprentice, no one—less than. Exhaustion consumed all of her emotions, and she couldn’t even summon anger. She simply wanted to feel normal again, whatever that meant now.

Choking down a sob, Vhalla took a bite of the fruit, chewing thoughtfully. That was when she heard the muffled discussion through the door to the room beyond. Invisible beetles crawled beneath her skin. The resonance of one voice was unmistakable, causing Vhalla to nearly gag on the fruit.

Staring down the door, she debated if she had the strength, mentally or physically, to know what was being said. On legs that could barely support her, Vhalla stumbled over to the door to lean against it. Ear pressed to the wood, she could make out the two male voices.

“Really, Aldrik, what were you thinking?” the minister asked.

“I do not have to explain myself to you, minister,” the prince sneered.

“You could have killed her.” The Minister Victor voiced Vhalla’s fears.

“I could not have killed her,” the prince retorted, utterly confident.

Vhalla knew that the prince was rumored to have a silver tongue. But there was a peculiar sort of agitation to his voice, as though he was truly offended the minister would even suggest it.

“How did you know?” the minister demanded. “She had hardly Manifested more than trace magic on those notes. There was no way you could have known her Affinity.”

“Then you underestimate my prowess.” Vhalla could hear the click of boots across the floor as the prince paced the room.

“Certainly,” the minister remarked with bold sarcasm. “I only ask because I have this wild idea that you may have some insights to her that you are neglecting to share, my prince.”

“Victor,” Prince Aldrik sighed dramatically. “You think I would lower myself to trouble with a plain commoner like her?”

“You troubled yourself enough to write her notes,” the minister pointed out.

Vhalla hadn’t thought about it, but it was strange that the crown prince had sent notes to an apprentice.

“She is the first Windwalker in almost one hundred fifty years. Of course I would trouble myself.” His tone had turned cold and calculating.

“Well, the next time we have a new Manifesting sorcerer, I will be sure to ask you to assist, what with your mysterious powers of deduction on Affinities,” the minister commented dryly. There was a long silence, indicating the prince was finished indulging the minster on this matter. “However you knew, the fact remains she is a Windwalker. I confirmed it.”

“You felt the need to confirm it when she survived a fall from the palace spires?”

Vhalla could almost see Prince Aldrik rolling his eyes with his tone alone.

“I used crystals upon her,” the minister continued, ignoring the prince’s sarcasm.

“You what?”

Was that worry that Vhalla heard in Prince Aldrik’s voice? She thought back to the shimmering stones that Minister Victor placed upon her forehead and stomach. Those were crystals? They couldn’t possibly be the same as the taint-causing stones from the War of the Crystal Caverns. They had helped her, not hurt her.

“We should tell the Emperor.” Minister Victor seemed to be well versed at overlooking choice comments from the prince. “He will want to know. He could use her in the war.”

Vhalla’s heart began to race. The idea of her at war was ludicrous. She had never even hit a person in play or sport.

“No.” As if the prince picked up on her panic, he squelched the idea sharply. “I will deal with my father, Victor. I do not want to catch wind of you breathing a single word to the Emperor about her.”

“Very well,” the minister sighed. “Aldrik, I can only theorize on what your grand plan is for the girl, given our histories. I know what we read, what we studied—”