Earth's End

“Moving a single archer’s wall would take days,” Daniel objected.

“But it makes more sense to keep the trebuchets on the sides. If they retreat out the back it will likely be on foot, and the trebuchets would not be of use anyways,” an opposing major snapped.

“At least they have wheels.” Daniel scratched the back of his neck.

“I could move what you need,” Vhalla contributed suddenly, earning everyone’s attention. “Well, I could try.”

“You? You look like you’d fall over with a broad sword.” The grizzled major to her right gave her an unappreciative appraisal.

Vhalla pursed her lips together. “My magic is my muscle,” she said as confidently as possible.

“You weren’t there, Zerian,” Baldair finally joined in, giving the older man a name. “Vhalla stopped a winter sandstorm in the Western Waste by herself. The woman has power in that petite frame.”

Vhalla blinked. Zerian, the head major behind the Western Campaigns. The man was a legend in his own right.

“And what a frame it is,” Jax snickered under his breath, earning a roll of Aldrik’s eyes.

“Let me try tomorrow,” Vhalla insisted to Major Zerian, more politely. “If I cannot, then we can revisit the matter.” Her use of we seemed to be accepted by the group.

“Excellent. That seems to be resolved.” Aldrik slid the map back toward the opposite end of the table. Vhalla’s heart almost stopped when his eyes caught hers as he straightened. The corner of Aldrik’s mouth tugged upward in the most apparent smile that one could expect from the crown prince. She pressed her lips together and let out a hint of her satisfaction. He turned back to the table, his emotions falling from his face. But Vhalla knew that the people at this table had spent ample time with Aldrik; she doubted even the tiniest display of affection wouldn’t be missed. “What’s next?”

They discussed more about the castle, and each of the majors seemed to have something they wanted Vhalla to explicitly search for during her Projections. She was humble enough to admit to not knowing certain things, but she made sure that she understood before she allowed the conversation to move on. After the second major discussion, she realized that she needed to take her own notes, so Vhalla fished for a scrap of clean paper on the table. Aldrik moved his inkwell and quill toward her, and she nodded in thanks.

Vhalla worried he was being too forward as the prince’s golden-tipped quill scratched under her fingertips. She nodded at the major who was speaking to her, returning her attention to the parchment. These were men of war, but they were also nobles; they were born and bred to subtlety as much as they were to the sword—or any other weapon of choice.

They worked until lunch, when food began to fill an adjacent table; everyone heeded the silent call to break. Aldrik was the last to move, and Vhalla lingered by his side, watching him carefully from the corners of her eyes. He seemed to move well enough. Whatever potions the clerics had given him were clearly taking effect.

Elecia may have disagreed with Vhalla’s assessment, as she returned with her own bundle of potions that smelled tangy and freshly concocted. The woman sat on the other side of Aldrik, stealing his attention. The prince took the potions without question, Elecia activating each with her palms on his neck, chest, and stomach. Aldrik began to sit straighter after the last one.

“You’re a clever one, aren’t you?” Erion drew her attention as he rested his chin on the back of his hand, leaning forward with a grin.

“I’m not sure about that,” Vhalla denied with a glance at the Emperor, trying to gauge his reaction.

“Too humble!” Jax laughed. “You’ve surprised me these past weeks. Where did all those brains come from? Did the Tower change that much while I was gone?”

“I haven’t spent that much time in the Tower yet.” Vhalla allowed others to serve themselves first, following their motions on what was the proper approach.

“Oh?” Jax raised an eyebrow.

“I was only Awoken this past year,” she explained, wondering how much of her story had traveled to the North; it seemed to vary. “Before that, I was a library apprentice.”

“A library apprentice?” One of the Western noblewoman squinted her eyes, as if trying to imagine it.

“You can’t tell from the woman she is now,” Craig interjected. “Trust me, I was there during the trial from the Night of Fire and Wind.”

“As was I,” Daniel mumbled, earning a confused look from Craig at his tone.

“Is Mohned still haunting those shelves?” Major Zerian asked from his seat to the right of the Emperor. Somehow, Vhalla and Aldrik had ended up on the opposing end.

“As of when I left.” She nodded, nostalgia sweetening her smile.

“Ha! Old bastard won’t die!” the man chuckled.

“Vhalla’s well-read also.” Daniel’s voice was thoughtful. His tongue formed her name delicately, stilling her. “On the march, she’d tell me of her readings. Everything from war tactics to fiction.”

Vhalla engaged in a staring contest with her food. It was very uncomfortable suddenly to be in the same room as Daniel. The bold looks he kept giving Aldrik weren’t helping.

“What’s your favorite book?” Erion asked.

Vhalla opened her mouth to speak, only to have Daniel steal the answer. “The Epic of Bemalg.” His hazel eyes met hers thoughtfully. “Unless things have changed?”