“So we found out something about Elecia today,” Fritz said as they were finishing setting up their tents.

“What?” Vhalla wasn’t sure if she wanted to know.

Larel had a cautionary glint to her eyes.

“We were talking with the foot soldiers,” Fritz continued, missing both ladies apprehension. “And apparently they’ve seen Elecia before.”

“They have?” Vhalla asked.

“She’s been in and out of the palace since the prince was a young man, one was saying,” Fritz explained.

Vhalla didn’t know why that fact would fill her with such dread.

“As if common soldiers would know anything,” Larel mumbled, finishing her bedroll.

“Yeah, but you have to admit that Elecia and the—”

“And who?” the woman herself finished, and all three turned in surprise.

“And, uh ...” Fritz was a mouse in the trap of a gleeful cat.

“And the prince,” Larel finished fearlessly.

To her credit, Elecia was only startled for a moment. Vhalla made a note that the outright mention of a connection between Elecia and Aldrik paused the woman. “Speaking of the prince, he said he shall train you tonight.” Her eyes fell on Vhalla, speaking volumes soundlessly. “So let’s get this catastrophe over with.”

During the walk to meet Aldrik in the woods, Vhalla mused over Elecia and him. People were already talking about the two of them. What if there was history between them? What if Larel was wrong and it wasn’t just camp gossip? Her mind wrapped and wandered around the ideas, only coming to a halt when Aldrik began to speak.

“Your nights will be half training your physical bodies, half training your magical prowess,” he declared while walking around Vhalla, Larel, and Fritz. “If you have any hope of making it into and out of the North alive, you will need every minute of training I can give you.”

Elecia hovered off to the side, exempt from Aldrik’s words.

“If you talk back or refuse, I may reconsider my kindness of being your teacher.”

His voice was that of a prince, not the Aldrik she knew. Vhalla glanced at Fritz, wondering if it was only for his benefit. Larel was friends with Aldrik; Elecia clearly had some connection; and Vhalla was ...

What was she?

That question echoed in her mind while they began their physical training. It ran through her head until Vhalla focused only on not getting sick from running and jumping. Aldrik refused to let them take off their armor; their physical training required it, he said. Fritz was the first to collapse, earning his ire.

“Charem, get up.” Aldrik sighed, leaning against a tree. “Or would you rather be torn limb from limb by the Northern clans? Or maybe a Noru Cat?”

Fritz struggled to his feet. Vhalla and Larel stood panting. Larel was in far better shape than Vhalla, who felt like she could collapse at any moment.

“Right, then.” Aldrik shared a long look with Elecia. “Elecia, Vhalla, pair up.”

“What?” both women exclaimed in unison.

“That is an order.” Aldrik pushed away from the tree, looking down at Elecia. “I trust you to impart your knowledge and skill.” The dark-skinned woman rolled her eyes, but didn’t object a second time. Aldrik didn’t even look at Vhalla, giving her no say. Vhalla decided that she had done something terrible to offend the prince, but whatever it was eluded her. The only thing she could think of was the Joining. But that had been his idea. And of all the words Vhalla could use to describe what happened between them the night prior, none would be negative.

“Larel, can you tell me how a Firebearer fights?” Aldrik asked.

“Hand-to-hand combat with the occasional long-ranged attack,” Larel responded.

“And Waterrunners?” The prince nodded and turned to Fritz.

“A mixture of offensive freezing attacks and defensive illusions,” Fritz sounded like he quoted from a textbook.

“And Groundbreakers?” Aldrik turned to Elecia.

“Highly defensive magic, stone skin impenetrable to bladed and most ice or fire attacks, combined with skills in weapons.” The woman rested her hands on her thighs, and Vhalla noticed the grooves in the other woman’s greaves were not decorative. She’d overlooked it before, but Elecia had two short swords strapped to her legs.

“As for Windwalkers ...” The prince’s voice faltered slightly when he turned to Vhalla. Her chest was tight, waiting for him to finish his thought. “We will find out.”

They spent the rest of the night going over basic punches and dodges. Elecia seemed just as displeased about having to help her as Vhalla was. The woman was curt and kept her comments short. But even through pursed lips and disapproving glares, Vhalla was learning.

The curly-haired woman was clearly experienced in combat. She moved lightly, easily, and never broke a sweat. She never made a single mistake and was never out of breath.

Everything about her seemed to get under Vhalla’s skin.

It was Vhalla’s turn to practice attacking and Elecia’s to dodge and deflect. Elecia found everything amusing. She had this annoying manner that made her seem like she was better than everyone else. She took Aldrik’s time and attention. Her motions were flawless. She had an elegant ease about everything, something that Vhalla had only ever seen royalty exude. Vhalla swung wide, and Elecia gave a small jab to her open shoulder. She took a step back and stared at Elecia.