When they were done with dinner and had returned to their hotel, Larel followed Vhalla to her room following bathing. Vhalla sat on the bed, the other woman behind her, combing through her wet hair with magic fingers. “Did you mean what you said at dinner?”

“To Daniel?” The question was pointless, Vhalla knew what Larel was talking about.

Larel hummed softly behind her in confirmation as she continued to dry Vhalla’s hair.

“I did.” Vhalla nodded.

“I’m glad.” Larel pulled Vhalla in for a tight hug. “I’ve been worried for you.”

“You have?” It was a dumb question and Vhalla knew it. This was the woman who had held her through shivers and shakes. Larel had been the one who pieced her back together after the Night of Fire and Wind. She knew every jagged piece that was still cutting into Vhalla’s heart.

“You’re not someone to live in darkness or sorrow.” Larel reclined on the bed, inviting Vhalla to do the same. “You’re a light that can shine brighter than even the sun.”

“That sounds treasonous,” Vhalla teased.

“I mean it all the same.” Larel leaned forward and pressed her forehead against Vhalla’s a brief moment. “You have something in you, Vhalla, something most never have or lose quickly. I cannot wait to see when you realize it yourself.”

“I’m nothing ... I’m not even myself, I’m property of the crown.” The more she said it, the deeper it sunk into her. She needed to accept this truth to make it through the war.

As if sensing that fact, Larel didn’t outright object. “You are, for now. But soon you’ll be back in the capital studying and doing great things.”

“But I can’t—”

“Oh, stop arguing.” Larel laughed lightly, running her fingers through Vhalla’s hair lovingly. “You’ll see it eventually.”

Vhalla closed her eyes. “What if I don’t?”

“You will.”

“Will you still be there to help me? Even if I don’t?” Vhalla asked softly, feeling like a child who still needed her security blanket to face the monsters that lurked in the night.

“You know I will be,” Larel promised.

“Thank you,” Vhalla whispered. “Good night, Larel.”

“Good night, Vhalla.” Her friend replied, holding tightly to Vhalla’s hand as she drifted into sleep.

The door eased open quietly and the soft sigh of the hinges lingered on Vhalla’s ears. Fritz had stayed out with Craig and Daniel after the restaurant. Vhalla wondered how drunk he was to come crawling into her room again. She rolled over, pressing her face into the pillow.

The footsteps barely made a sound. Her ears picked up the movement of air more than the noise upon the floor. There was something amiss, but her sleep-filled mind couldn’t quickly place what it was. Something about the footsteps ...

Footsteps. Two sets of footsteps.