There was a hidden meaning between his words, and Vhalla felt overwhelmed trying to understand its layers. Aldrik spared her from the task when he shrugged off the last of his armor—and her mind went blank. He was in a loose-fitting, long-sleeved white shirt that hung mostly open at his neck. On his lower half were a pair of well-tailored black pants that clung close to his legs. It was more casual and undressed than she’d ever seen him before, and just the sight brought a bright blush to her cheeks.

If the prince noticed her modesty, he was good enough not to comment. Aldrik sat on one of the pillows near the low table. A paper caught his eye, eliciting a small sigh.

“What is it?” she asked, still hovering.

“Oh, nothing. Just some things I need to go over with Father.” He glanced back at her. “If you would like to get more comfortable,” he offered with a gesture toward a seat. His gaze shifted back to the paper, and he pinched the bridge of his nose in thought.

Vhalla fidgeted with her fingers. It was armor; she’d normally worn less around him. But something about undressing anything, here in his tent, made her heart race. With a deep breath Vhalla reminded herself to be an adult and stop acting like an excitable girl. In the end she compromised by pulling off her boots and gloves as well as her scale, but left on her chainmail.

She sat on the pillow opposite him and crossed her legs. The pillows were comfortable, as equally fine as the rug, with tightly woven threads that seemed to be some kind of silk.

“Oh sorry.” Vhalla put down the spare cushion with a nervous laugh when she felt his stare.

“What is it?” Aldrik asked, returning the paper to the stack.

“They’re very nice,” she said truthfully.

“You think so?” He seemed surprised, as if he was considering them for the first time.

“Well, for me they are.” She smiled faintly. He forgot so easily they came from different worlds.

“In any case,” he ceased his own inspection. “Channeling. It is much like Larel explained: you will tap into the source of your power, which should be easy for you, given your Affinity.”

“How do I go about it?”

“Well, in a way that depends on you. I will help you understand the fundamentals of it, but ultimately it is your connection with yourself and the world.” It was a cryptic explanation, and Vhalla felt her chance of success diminishing to hopelessness. “Most sorcerers have a trigger that opens and closes their Channel. This is normally physical. Many find it easier to tie it to a tangible act.”

“What’s yours?” she asked.