“Did what?” She shifted uncomfortably under the weight of Baldair’s stare.

“You jumped from the Pass and ran through the North, alone?”

“Someone had to.” The feat didn’t seem nearly worth all the amazement in Baldair’s eyes—of course she would do those things.

“Has there been any word from the host or riders?” Baldair asked Jax.

The head major shook his head. “None from the riders ... the host marches forward as planned.”

Baldair stood, handing the papers back to Jax. “Aldrik is strong, and I know that he will not let himself die now. Not when he finally has a reason to truly live again. That brother of mine is likely just trying to get out of marching the rest of the way here.” Baldair’s laugh was forced.

“But for the here and now, food and company will do us all some good.” The golden prince extended a calloused hand to her, and Vhalla took it. The prince’s strength was often touted as being physical. But Vhalla was beginning to learn that the man known for breaking hearts seemed to have a rather large one of his own.

Baldair paused at the door. “Ah, it’s Serien still, right?”

“For now. I thought it safer that way,” Jax confirmed. “Best not to let the camp rumors start until we have the Emperor’s input on them.”

“What happened to your Windwalker?” Vhalla asked as they left the room.

“She was killed.” Baldair glanced at her, and Vhalla was surprised to find a protective edge to his manner.

“The Emperor’s was also,” she reported.

“Aldrik’s?”

“Not as of when I left.” Vhalla shook her head.

“If he was putting on a show, he was likely protecting her as he would have you,” Baldair thought aloud. They rounded the corner for the main room. “Sorry to keep you waiting, friends!” There was laughter and japes at Baldair’s expense for being held up with a mystery woman as he started for a table with his Golden Guard. The room was filled with more majors and soldiers, all seeming to celebrate the return of the favored prince. Jax and Baldair were halfway to a table before they realized she was not walking with them.

Her eyes were affixed upon an Eastern face and a rainbow of emotion burst into color within the dark hollow of Vhalla’s chest. Daniel stood slowly, staring at her in shock. Vhalla remembered the last time she’d seen him, the weeks they’d spent together the last time she had been Serien. It brought the mask of the other woman back to her in a rush and all the conflicted feelings along with it.

The room instantly noticed the odd exchange, adding their glances and whisperers beneath the conversation that politely continued on. Daniel rounded the table in a daze, his focus only on her as if she was the last thing on the earth. Vhalla swallowed. She didn’t know what he saw—who he saw in her.

Daniel’s feet went from dragging to a near run as he crossed to her in desperately wide steps. His body crashed against hers and his arms swept her into an all-encompassing embrace. Her arms responded before she could think, ready to welcome the only person who had been there when the world had taken everyone else from her.

“You’re alive.” Daniel’s breath was hot on her neck.

“I’m Serien ...” she whispered dumbly, reminding herself and him to play the necessary part.

“I don’t care what name.” He squeezed her tighter, if it were possible. “You’re you, and that’s all I need.”

HOW ARE YOU here?” Daniel pulled away, blinking at her in awe. “They said we were the first group to arrive.”

Vhalla opened her mouth to speak but could only make a strangled, choking noise. The sight of him was wonderfully familiar, so much so that the relief it inspired nearly made her feel guilty. Vhalla stepped away and loosened her grip on him so that she could take his hands.

“Somewhere private,” she whispered, attempting some secrecy. Half the room was close enough to hear.

Daniel nodded. “Erion, Jax, I’ll have that drink with you later.” “The shacks are as you left them.” Erion sipped his drink. He, Raylynn, and Craig were all intently watching Daniel and

Vhalla’s intertwined fingers.

“Our little Danny grew up! Stealing women away!” Jax cheered, and Vhalla’s cheeks burned at the laughter that erupted in the room following such a proclamation.

Daniel quickly led her out, sparing them further embarrassment. The sun had almost completely set and, in the fading light, Vhalla could see his face competing with hers for the deeper shade of red.

“Jax, he’s-he’s a few pieces shy of a whole Carcivi board and he’s like that,” Daniel said quickly and apologetically.

Vhalla nodded, that much had been apparent from the moment she’d met the head major.

“But he’s a good man, truly, just a little ...” Daniel sighed, slowing and turning. As if suddenly remembering he held her hand, he quickly pulled his away, plunging his palms into his pockets.

Vhalla said nothing, staring up at the Eastern lord. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he whispered.

“I’d rather not be ...” Vhalla stared southward.

“Right.” He nodded, catching himself distracted again. “Let’s get somewhere we can talk.”

Daniel proceeded down and to the right of the camp palace. It was the first time Vhalla had walked among the soldiers and, while most were indifferent to her, they were certainly not to Daniel. He did his best to keep their pace, but it took nearly double the time it should’ve to transverse the short walk to a series of shacks with a communal fire pit that had a tarp suspended over it. It seemed every soldier wanted to welcome back the member of the Golden Guard.

Vhalla’s suspicions that these were the temporary homes of the most elite fighting force were validated when Daniel led her into one of the shacks. A curtain was the only barrier between his space and the rest of the world. But Vhalla instantly found herself relaxing.

“It’s not much.” Daniel rubbed the back of his neck.

It was nothing more than four walls and a roof. His supplies had already been dropped, armor on a simple stand, a few personal effects on a small table. His bedroll was open on a low platform, keeping it off the dusty ground.

“It’s perfect,” Vhalla countered.

The room was so far removed from anything she’d ever known that it held no meaning for Vhalla. The camp palace was filled with Aldrik, with why she was in the North. Here was a place where she could be Serien, someone else, or no one—it didn’t matter.

“Why are you here?” he rephrased his earlier question, taking a step toward her.

If Baldair hadn’t known about Aldrik, then it made sense that none of the recent arrivals would.

“There was an attack at the Pass.” She tried to harden herself in the way she’d learned as Serien, to speak as though the memories didn’t threaten to crush her with every word. “Aldrik fell—” Vhalla’s eyes widened realizing that she hadn’t used the crown prince’s title. She shouldn’t have been shocked to see that Daniel was completely unsurprised. He already knew. “I tried to save him, but I couldn’t. He was barely alive and dying. I came ahead for medical supplies.”