Her grip faltered. This man’s moods swung like a pendulum and, in this moment, she had a very clear picture as to how and why he had become Head Major of the Black Legion. Jax raised his hand slowly, placing it on her shoulder. Even with the telegraphed movement, she still jumped.

“Let’s not, shall we?” His other hand rested over her wrists, pushing them easily away.

“It’s not what you think,” she said, still defensive.

“I promise you, you have no idea what I think.” Jax wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Now, let’s go get you your prince.”

Vhalla withheld comment, deciding not to retort that the golden-haired prince was not her prince.

Every step began to add another doubt as to her chosen course of action. What did she plan to achieve? As Jax went to knock on the door, she nearly stopped him. But the opportunity was eliminated as his knocks faded into silence.

“Who?” A sleep-hazy voice called.

“Your blushing princess,” Jax called in a girlish falsetto. “Go away, Jax.”

She could hear shifting from within.

“Alas, darling, it’s not just me.” Jax glanced down at her. “You’ve a certain lady looking for you.”

There was some mumbling and distinctly feminine whispers before a set of heavy footsteps marched over to the door. The latch was lifted from within, and it opened a crack for the prince. “You?”

“I’m sorry to disturb you, my prince. I forgot my armor here.” Her resolve had vanished.

“Why did you seek me out if you just wanted your armor?” The question was gentle when it could’ve been annoyed.

She didn’t have an answer.

“Wait for me in his room.” Baldair nodded his head toward the door across the hall.

Vhalla paced a groove into the floor as she waited. With each step, she oscillated between every mantle that had been thrust upon her over the past year: the library girl, the sorcerer, the soldier, the agent of death. Part of her sang her innocence in it all, including the straw that had broken her back with sudden guilt, Daniel. The other part intoned how she had a hand in crafting it all. She tugged on her fingers in thought.

“Yes, I’ll make it up to you tonight and then some.” She caught Baldair’s melodic chuckle through the thin walls of the camp palace.

When the door opened to Aldrik’s room, a much more properly dressed prince stood in its frame.

“Vhalla?” Baldair closed the door behind him, waiting for her to explain her reason for seeking him out.

“Am I?” she whispered.

Confusion furrowed his brow as the prince frowned.

“What am I?” She shook her head. “Am I Vhalla? Am I owned? Am I free? Am I Serien? Am I strong or weak or ... I don’t know.” She stared at her hands, as if confused as to where they had come from. “I can kill and love with the same heart. I don’t find fear in the things I should and yet can be terrified of the fact. Baldair, I don’t know what I am—who I am—anymore.” The words had been a long time coming, but Vhalla hadn’t even thought them before they crossed her lips. She’d fallen in the Pass and had risen as someone different. She was no longer Vhalla Yarl the library apprentice, and she no longer needed the shell of Serien Leral. She was more than the tool the Emperor saw her as and less than the woman she’d hoped she’d become.

The in-between was threatening to smother her.

“I do,” Baldair said gently and took her hands in his steady ones. “I know who you are.”

She peered up at him. What could he possibly know about her heart that she couldn’t figure out herself ? He was the brother of the man she loved. He was the son of the man who owned her. But, really, until now he had been nothing of particular importance to her. He was about to define himself.

“You are as unrelenting and determined as the wind itself. You are doing what you must to survive. It’s what we’re all doing, leaning on what we must to keep the pieces together.”

She shook her head, her guilt wouldn’t allow her to accept it. “That’s just an excuse.”

“An excuse for what?” he asked gently.

“An excuse for ...” Vhalla dropped her face in her palms, “For the things I have done.”

“What things?”

She shook her head.

“Is this about Daniel?” It was phrased as a question, but by his manner Baldair clearly already knew the answer. Vhalla raised up her eyes from her hands. Baldair sighed. “Vhalla, have you thought that this could be a good thing?”

“Don’t you dare say that!” Fire pulsed through her veins. “My brother isn’t—”

“I love him!” Vhalla cut off Baldair. “I love Aldrik.” Saying it aloud reaffirmed the source of her most immediate guilt.

Baldair stared at her, a sad sort of hopelessness pulling on his shoulders. Vhalla turned, grabbing herself. She didn’t want to be around this prince if that was all he had to say.

Two strong arms wrapped around her, and Baldair pulled her back to his chest. “All right, all right, I know you do.”

“Then why do you ...” Her words collapsed into a heavy sigh. “Because I hate sitting by and watching something destined for so much heartache. Because I remember the first time we met.” Vhalla smiled faintly at the memory of the Imperial Library. “Gods, you were this tiny, nervous thing. I thought I’d have you halfway to ecstasy or agony by touching you and, Mother, it was fun to toy with you.”

“I’d never met a prince before.” Vhalla squeezed his forearm and laughed lightly. His touch did not bring ecstacy or agony for her. It was an easy, uncomplicated comfort.

“And now look at you.” He walked around, his palms on her shoulders. “It pains me to see world-weariness in someone who shouldn’t have lost their innocence. But I see that it is well and truly gone, and trying to stop the forces in motion is futile now.” Baldair held her face gently with a wide hand. “I admit my methods have not been the best. But I never wanted to hurt you. I only ever wanted to keep you from all this. If I had known my amusement of inviting you to that gala just to see what my brother would do would’ve led you to war ...”

Vhalla shook her head, unsure how they’d arrived at clearing the air between them. “I don’t blame you.”

“Thank you.” The prince sounded sincere. “Now, I have promised Aldrik I would see you well. And I will keep that promise, no matter what happens to him.” The fact that Baldair had to add such a caveat to the end of his vow brought a pang of pain straight to her heart. “So I need you to keep moving. As Vhalla, as Serien, as the Windwalker or as no one, however you find the strength to wake up each morning and move.”

“How do I know if I’m doing the right thing?” She wavered, uncertainty creeping in and chipping away at the strength her voice had been building over the past week.

“You don’t, you never will.” Baldair wore a sincere smile. “We’re all trying to find our way, no one has it figured out any more than you do. You’re not that special, Miss Windwalker.”

The prince gave her a friendly nudge, and Vhalla was brought to laughter. Things still felt unresolved but, if she’d understood the prince correctly, it was fine to leave them that way for a bit. She couldn’t spend her days collapsing into a heap with worry over Aldrik, just as she couldn’t let feelings for Daniel grow from her desperation for validation and comfort.