“He doesn’t seem like the nice sort . . .” Vhalla stared at the wall that was nearly twice her height. Was it too quiet? “We need to get over this.”

Jax pressed his fingers against the tightly fitted stones. “Difficult to climb.”

“You’re taller than me.” She turned and braced her back against the wall. Vhalla laced her fingers, ready for his heel. “I’ll help you up first.”

“But then what’ll you do?”

“Just trust me on this.” She needed his trust, because she wasn’t quite sure if she trusted herself.

Jax put his foot in her hands. After a moment or two, they managed to lift him high enough that he could grip the top of the wall, pulling himself up the rest of the way. Stretched flat, he put his hand down to her.

Vhalla clenched her fists. She may be able to jump to his hand, but what was the point of training for weeks with Gianna’s ladder if she didn’t try something a bit different? She was a Windwalker, after all.

She raised a foot and felt the pocket of air appear underneath it, resisting her, holding her in place. She raised another foot to meet a higher pocket of air. Her toes wiggled as she stepped upward, uncertain atop the shifting currents. It was a trick to trust her magic over her instinct.

In short order, Vhalla sat on the top of the wall next to Jax.

“Why didn’t you do that for me?” he finally managed through surprise.

“It’s hard for me to do to my own body. I wouldn’t trust myself with getting it quite right for someone else,” Vhalla explained. What if she used too much air and sent him flying backwards, head first into a wall? She could instinctually self-correct for herself, but not for another person.

Jax accepted the information with a nod. Vhalla was relieved he didn’t press too much. She didn’t have all the answers; she was still making up her magic as she went. And they needed to be moving.

They descended into a quiet corner of a rock garden that spiraled around the entire home. Vhalla blinked her eyes, activating her magical sight. She stretched her hearing along the wind.

“There’s no one here,” she announced after a quick survey.

Jax relaxed a bit. “Good, we should have time then.”

They let themselves into the main building of the estate, the door now partly burnt from Jax’s gentle coaxing. Vhalla turned right for a study. She grabbed a canvas bag from a desk, dumping the writing supplies contained within and began to rummage through the books. Unsurprisingly, there was ample material on the Knights of Jadar; Vhalla intended to steal such books and learn everything she could before turning them in to Lord Ophain.

When full, Vhalla began to wander into other rooms. Luxurious parlors were adorned with Western crimson and an emblazoned phoenix holding a sword. Vhalla grimaced at the sight.

“Jax, was the man you killed a Knight of Jadar?” she asked as they headed upstairs.

“No, just a famous lord . . . and a couple innocents,” he replied as though they were just talking about the weather. If one rehearsed talking about the weather.

“Would I know of him?”

“Do you want the answer to that?” Jax gave her a broad and toothy grin.

Vhalla paused a moment and shook her head. “Not now.” It shouldn’t make her uncomfortable to think of Jax as a murderer. Those who survived the War in the North were all murderers and madmen. But it was a side of him she wasn’t sure if she wanted to see just yet. There was something different about this, but she had yet to put her finger on what it was.

On the third floor was the room Vhalla had really sought all along: a trophy room. Her hand lingered on the hilt of the axe, as if the crystals could call out to one another. She walked through the shelves, running her fingers along glass boxes and placards.

“I found it,” Vhalla breathed in despair. She’d wanted Lord Ophain to be right. She’d wanted her expedition into the heart of the Knights of Jadar to prove that the sword was safely hidden in the obscurity of time.

“Found what?” Jax walked over, reading what was inscribed upon a plate affixed to the empty armor stand. “The Sword of Jadar.” He lurched away as though he’d been hit. “The Sword of Jadar? That’s what this is about? Vhalla, it’s a legend.”

“It’s clearly not. And someone has it,” Vhalla insisted. “We need to find out who.”

Jax gave her a skeptical look and opened his mouth to speak.

The sound of the portcullis grinding open had them both sprinting to a window. Jax and Vhalla both spouted profanities. Major Schnurr and four Knights had returned far too early.

“I’m sure they just forgot something,” Jax mumbled hopefully.

Vhalla’s eyes went wide as she remembered the canvas bag she’d emptied and used to rummage through the study to the left in the entry. Perhaps the Knights would overlook the singed mark on the door and slightly melted metal in the darkness, but they wouldn’t be able to ignore signs of Vhalla raiding the bookshelves. “The books, downstairs.” She moved to go get them, but Jax pushed her back.

“You stay. Hide. I’ll sort it so they don’t notice.”

“But—”

“Stay!” Jax scowled at her and sprinted down the stairs. Vhalla looked around the room for places to hide. Her fingers caressed the leather buckles on the axe. One by one, they came undone. Why did she have the axe if she wasn’t going to use it? Why carry it if she wasn’t going to carve the Knights into little nubs, useless for anything? Her fingertip touched the crystal and pure power shot up her arm.