“She is ...” He sighed. “Do not pay what she says any mind.”

Vhalla nodded silently. It was a nice sentiment. But once some things were said they could never be unheard, and the brief exchange was already repeating in her ears.

Aldrik nodded back at her before standing, turning to a shocked silent Larel and Fritz. “Larel, take her back to your tent. You may have to burn through one or two of those altered shrubs.” He glanced at Elecia’s path out. “Fritz, come with me. I am sure Vhalla has internal bleeding from a hit like that, and I will not have her riding a horse tomorrow without getting a potion in her tonight.”

They both nodded, and Larel slipped Vhalla’s arm around her neck, helping her to her feet.

“It’s not that bad,” Vhalla insisted softly, not wanting to make any more of a scene.

“There’s no shame in accepting help. This march is too long to justify acting too strong now,” Larel told her sternly, yet gently.

“Listen to that one, Vhalla. She has a good head on her shoulders.” Aldrik pointed to Larel, and Vhalla saw the Western woman’s face turn up to a small smile. “Fritz, come,” he ordered briskly, and the two walked off in a different direction.

Just as Aldrik had said, the brush needed to be burnt away in some places. It was riddled with vines almost as thick as Vhalla’s wrist, blocking the most direct route back to camp. Larel used intense firebursts to incinerate a clear path.

“Groundbreakers can alter trees and plants?” Vhalla asked.

“Some can.” Larel nodded.

They didn’t speak again during the rest of the walk back to their tent. Larel offered to help Vhalla change into her sleeping clothes, but Vhalla insisted she could do it on her own. Elecia’s words ran through her head. The conversation had yielded too much information to dissect now. A sickeningly purple bruise had already formed on her stomach.

Vhalla only barely finished pulling on a long-sleeved nightshirt when there was a tap on their tent pole.

“Vhal? Larel?” Fritz asked uncertainly.

“It’s fine, Fritz,” Vhalla called, and he poked his head in. Larel shifted to make enough room for him to sit. It was crowded with three.

“Here, the prince told me to give it to you.” He handed her a small wooden vial.

“Thank you,” she said softly, taking it from him and downing it quickly. She recognized the fiery feeling of this particular potion and winced slightly. Vhalla was beginning to suspect the clerics healed everything with this one magic liquid. “Sorry to be trouble.”

“It’s fine,” Larel consoled. “This was hardly your fault.”

“What exactly happened?” Fritz asked.

Larel elbowed him in the side. “Not our business,” she scolded.

Vhalla fidgeted with her fingers.

“Fine, fine. I hope you feel better soon.” He reached out, ruffled Vhalla’s hair, and turned on his knees to crawl out of the tent.

“Wait,” Vhalla stopped him. There was a sick feeling in her stomach, but Vhalla thought it had more to do with nerves. “Wait,” she repeated again as he sat down. Vhalla passed the vial from hand to hand, unsure of her next words. But Fritz and Larel had already proven to be kind and loyal. She took a breath.

“Vhalla, you don’t have to—” Larel seemed to sense her trepidation.

“We’re Bonded,” Vhalla said directly, getting it out before she lost her resolve.

Both stared at her in shock and confusion.

“Wait, what?” Fritz had a dumb look on his face.

“You and ...” Larel whispered, her voice leaving her before she could finish the sentence.

“Aldrik.” Vhalla cursed aloud. “The prince.” She shook her head; it was too late and she was in too deep. “Aldrik and I are Bonded.” Vhalla looked away from them. She barely understood what being Bonded meant so how they would react was up in the air. They both stared at her with their mouths open, shocked into silence. “Well, say something,” she sighed.

“You’re sure?” Larel asked.

“Very,” she affirmed, recalling her Channeling lesson.

“Does he know?” Fritz asked.

Larel cuffed him on the back of the head. “Of course he does,” she chided.

“How?” Fritz asked. The Western woman shot him a sharp glance. “I know how, as in I know how Bonding works in theory. But how did you become Bonded with the prince, of all people?”

“I don’t really understand it all myself.” Vhalla thought back to a night in the library, a night that seemed forever ago. “It was when he came back.”

“From the front? In the summer?” Larel seemed to be already piecing it together.

Vhalla nodded. “I was working in the library and I—” Vhalla paused, leaving out the truth that she had thought she was saving a different prince. “I wanted to save him, I wanted to give anything to save him. He said I wrote magic, or made vessels—I’m not sure. Something about it opened a link and that was a Bonding.” She shifted, trying not to allow the conversation she’d started make her uncomfortable.

“That’s amazing,” Fritz breathed.

“So, that’s—that’s why things are different with us.” She wasn’t sure anymore why she had confided this to her friends.

“What is it like being Bonded?” Fritz asked.

“It’s hard to tell,” Vhalla confessed. “I’ve never known magic and not been Bonded. So it’s normal for me.”

“You Manifested quickly,” Larel pointed out. “Even the minister was shocked, but it would make sense if you had a Bond with someone like Prince Aldrik.”

“It was also how ...” Vhalla hesitated about sharing the previous night with them, but she was in too deep to stop herself now. “During our Channeling lesson, he showed me how to Channel.”

“Well, of course.” Fritz clearly didn’t understand.

“No.” Vhalla shook her head. “He showed me. While we were Joined.”

If Vhalla had not understood the gravity of a Joining before, she understood it then. Fritz and Larel looked at her with a combination of shock, amazement, and—what was most unnerving—a touch of fear. Vhalla brought her hands together, wringing them roughly.

“It’s ... possible?” Fritz asked, finally.

“I suppose so? I only have what Aldrik said to go off of.” Vhalla’s eyes darted between them, desperate to spark some more conversation so they’d stop looking at her like she had sprouted a second head. “What does it mean?”

“I’ve only read about it.” Asking Fritz to recite things from books had the same effect as it did on Vhalla. His mind began churning once more. “Literature on Bonding is very few and far between because most people who try to create a Bond fail, and one person dies in the process. But Joining is supposedly a state of merged consciousness or awareness.”

“That sounds right.” Vhalla nodded in affirmation.

“I can’t believe he did that.” Fritz stroked the stubble on his jaw. “It’s supposed to be a risky process.”

“Risky?” Vhalla asked.

“Again, I’ve only read ... But if the Bond isn’t solid, complete, if the two people are Bonded but not compatible, or if—” He paused, censoring himself. “Well there are other things that can help or hurt it. But I’ve heard it could result in one person losing himself in the other. You end up with one being mindless, while the other goes mad with the noise in his head.”