“The major told me you are capable of magical sight?” Vhalla nodded, that much she could hang her hat on. “Very well—watch.” Aldrik held out his hands before her, palms open. Vhalla adjusted her vision and saw him bathed in the familiar golden flame. He clenched his hands into fists and suddenly the glow was extinguished across his body.

“Are you all right?” she gasped, looking at his now-dim form.

He chuckled and nodded. “I closed my Channel. Keep watching.” He relaxed and unfurled his fingers. Aldrik snapped them closed into fists again and the white and gold flames returned.

“It’s magnificent,” she breathed. The complement earned her a faint smile. Vhalla looked down from his face and paused. “Aldrik ...” She murmured as her eyes focused on a dark spot. She’d seen it before in the garden, before she even knew about magical sight. Vhalla reached out a hand to touch him, stopping herself short. She shouldn’t be so forward; he was still the crown prince.

Aldrik knew what she saw. “The poison crystalized, rooting itself enough that I could not remove it. It was the best I could do.”

“It’s not letting your Channel work properly, is it?” Vhalla frowned, suddenly realizing what that dark spot meant.

“Exactly ...” His voice began to grow heavy. “That is why I could not protect you as I should have that night.” Aldrik paused. “Vhalla, it’s my fault.”

“What is?” Apprehension trailed its icy fingers up her spine.

He took her still hovering hand in both of his. “You should not have had to kill them. If I had been more capable, you would not have been forced to.” Emotion burned behind his eyes and it struck her clear as day. Channeling was a side-project for him. The main goal was the Night of Fire and Wind. He was playing the puppet master again, and Larel was certainly helping.

“I don’t want to talk about it. Teach me Channeling or we’re done.” She wrenched her hand from his.

“I was fourteen,” he began, ignoring her. Her mouth was still twisted in annoyance. “The first time I killed a man.”

Her face relaxed.

“Looking back, I didn’t even have a good reason to kill him.”

Vhalla shifted closer to hear, his voice faint and his eyes glossy. He seemed to stare through the world around him.

“I was told that he was a bad man, that he was going to harm my family and his death would make us stronger.” Aldrik chuckled bitterly. “As if death makes anyone stronger ...”

The pressure of his gaze weighed on every inch of her body.

“I will never forget that in the end, he asked for mercy from his prince. He asked for forgiveness, and I gave him death.” Aldrik’s body was very still, and his eyes searched hers, yearning for something.