Fritz and Vhalla walked in an uneasy silence as the sounds of clanking armor and bursts of flame began to fade and meld into the growing sounds of camp. Vhalla focused on the ground, letting him lead her by the hand. She chewed over her words, trying to find some kind of explanation.

“Vhalla, I’m really, really sorry and-and I don’t know what I did but I didn’t mean to upset you.” Fritz broke the silence like a dam shattering. “I thought it’d be interesting for you to see, and I don’t know if it messed with your magic or something, but I promise I won’t do it again.”

“It’s not your fault.” She shook her head, feeling guilty. “It reminded me of something ... You couldn’t have known. Please, don’t feel bad. It really was amazing.”

“If you want to talk about it,” he offered, returning to her side as they began to walk again.

“No.” She put an end to the notion sharply.

Fritz walked her all the way back to her tent. When she insisted she had no appetite, he went to dinner on the promise that he would set aside a portion for her. Vhalla wasn’t sure if he would be successful, but she was too tired to care. She barely found the energy to pull off her armor before collapsing in the bedroll.

Despite being overwhelmed and at the brink of exhaustion, sleep didn’t come. Vhalla watched shadows from campfires dance on the walls of her tent. She closed her eyes briefly, but every time she did a new horror awaited her. Vhalla wasn’t sure how much time had passed but Larel’s entrance was a relief.

“Welcome back,” she whispered.

“You’re awake?”

“Can’t sleep,” Vhalla explained the obvious.

“You need to try,” Larel ordered softly, putting her armor at the foot of her bedroll.

“How was the rest of the training?” Vhalla asked, changing the subject.

“Whenever the prince steps into the fray, the memory of your experience always lingers.” Larel rubbed her shoulder generously as she crawled under her blanket.

Silence settled heavily between them, suppressing the words that needed to be said. It lasted so long that Vhalla was sure Larel had fallen asleep. But the other woman took a slow breath. “Vhalla.”

“Yes?” she whispered back.

“I know it isn’t my business ...” Larel’s uneasy start set Vhalla’s heart to racing. “But you know he cares for you, right?”

Vhalla stared into the darkness at Larel’s shadowy outline. She shifted, her stomach getting that strange feeling again—likely because she hadn’t eaten. “He’s a friend,” she confessed for the first time to anyone. Vhalla thought back to the day in the chapel and her mind betrayed her by also flooding her with memories of a dance in the water gardens of the palace on the night of the gala. It all seemed like a dream from where she was now.

“A friend?” Larel mused over the notion aloud.

“A dear friend ...” Vhalla felt the strange urge to qualify.

Larel clicked her tongue but withheld further comment.

Vhalla curled into a ball with a sigh and finally closed her eyes. Horrors did not greet her. A prince with a golden circlet was painted across her memories.

“VHAL ... Vhal.” Fritz nudged her gently.

“What?” Vhalla yawned.

“You need to eat something.”

This again. “I’m not hungry.” She rubbed her eyes with the soft leather that covered her palms. It had been three days since the night in the forest, and none of them had mentioned training since. It made Vhalla feel all the more broken, defective.

“When was the last time you ate?” Larel was in on it now too.

“I ...” Vhalla struggled to answer the question honestly. “I ate breakfast yesterday, and dinner the night before.”

“You call that eating?” Fritz shook his head. “Those were hardly snacks.”

“Let it go.” Annoyance crept into her tone.

“Vhalla,” a voice said sternly to her left.

Apprehension filled her at the sound of his voice. Aldrik had hardly spoken to her since the night Vhalla broke down, and she hadn’t had the courage to say anything to him. It was fine to imagine that she could cut her hair and become someone strong, the monster that the Senate had every right to fear. But the moment she was presented with the beast she was, she fell apart. She was weak, so it made sense that he wanted nothing to do with her.

“You are already a risk to everyone by not being skilled in combat or having a handle on your magic. The least you can do is keep your body in good condition by eating.” He gave her a long stare. “And sleeping,” the prince added, as if noticing the darkening circles under her eyes for the first time.

With a sigh, Vhalla grabbed the meat Fritz held out to her and tore into it. It was cold, and slimy, and tasteless. The food on the march had quickly lost its novelty, and now it was just another reminder of where she was, of who she was.

“Eat it all,” Aldrik instructed dryly. “It will be more graceful if you eat it yourself rather than one of us forcing it down your throat.”

She took smaller bites, but managed to get—and keep—it all down. The food settled heavily in her stomach and threatened to come up with the swaying of the horse.

As if to capitalize on her sour mood, Elecia appeared out of nowhere and wedged herself between Vhalla and Aldrik.