“She’s dead, Vhalla.” Fritz’s harsh words were a knife that cut through the last scraps of hope in Vhalla’s heart. “And you might be dead too if you don’t heed the Emperor’s call.”

Fritz pulled her upright and herded her toward their ruler.

“It’s my fault ... It’s my fault ...” Vhalla whispered, repeating the mantra over and over in her head.

“What happened here?” the Emperor demanded as she arrived.

All eyes were on her. Vhalla swallowed and turned to the Northerner. “He was a juggler, at the festival.”

“Speak clearly, girl!” the Emperor took a step forward.

Aldrik stepped forward as well, wedging himself protectively between his father and Vhalla.

“The people who attacked on the Night of Fire and Wind, they were the jugglers from the festivals, the ones who came to the capital. There were two missing in that attack.” Vhalla’s voice echoed emptily in her ears.

“And our attack was a success! We had no idea Emperor Solaris was growing Wind Demons,” the man spat. His accent was thick and heavy and it would have been difficult to understand if its inflection hadn’t already been seared on Vhalla’s ears from that fateful night long ago.

“You speak forcefully for a man who is about to die,” the Emperor said quietly.

“A warrior doesn’t fear death,” the man replied haughtily.

“How about dying with the shame of failing to kill the one who slayed your comrades?” The Emperor gave a tilt of his head toward Vhalla.

That set the man off, and he was suddenly raging against Craig, Daniel, and Baldair, who all struggled to keep him on his knees.

“Let him go,” the Emperor commanded.

“Father—” Baldair began in shock.

“I said, release him!” Emperor Solaris was not to be trifled with, and they released the Northerner.

The assassin sprang forward like a sprinter from the blocks. But he did not lunge for the most powerful man in all the realms, the man who had killed his people and invaded his homeland. The Northerner lunged for Vhalla.

She didn’t even flinch when the flames erupted right before her. They singed her tattered sleeping clothes and licked by her face. But they did not burn her.

The man seemed to resist the heat as well, but only for a brief moment until he was magically overpowered and set to writhing and rolling on the ground. His flesh bubbling and singed.

The Northerner began to rasp, pulling himself into a seated position. “Tiberum Solaris, the mighty Emperor, chosen of the sun, hiding behind his son and a child.”

“I am not a child,” Vhalla threatened. Her whisper was heard by all and even the Emperor stilled his tongue.