“A mixture of offensive freezing attacks and defensive illusions,” Fritz sounded like he quoted from a textbook.

“And Groundbreakers?” Aldrik turned to Elecia.

“Highly defensive magic, stone skin impenetrable to bladed and most ice or fire attacks, combined with skills in weapons.” The woman rested her hands on her thighs, and Vhalla noticed the grooves in the other woman’s greaves were not decorative. She’d overlooked it before, but Elecia had two short swords strapped to her legs.

“As for Windwalkers ...” The prince’s voice faltered slightly when he turned to Vhalla. Her chest was tight, waiting for him to finish his thought. “We will find out.”

They spent the rest of the night going over basic punches and dodges. Elecia seemed just as displeased about having to help her as Vhalla was. The woman was curt and kept her comments short. But even through pursed lips and disapproving glares, Vhalla was learning.

The curly-haired woman was clearly experienced in combat. She moved lightly, easily, and never broke a sweat. She never made a single mistake and was never out of breath.

Everything about her seemed to get under Vhalla’s skin.

It was Vhalla’s turn to practice attacking and Elecia’s to dodge and deflect. Elecia found everything amusing. She had this annoying manner that made her seem like she was better than everyone else. She took Aldrik’s time and attention. Her motions were flawless. She had an elegant ease about everything, something that Vhalla had only ever seen royalty exude. Vhalla swung wide, and Elecia gave a small jab to her open shoulder. She took a step back and stared at Elecia.

Vhalla blinked in shock that she hadn’t put it together sooner. She had no proof, but something in her gut told her she was not wrong. The rumors of her being in the palace, the casual attitude toward royalty, it all made sense. Only people who came from wealth and affluence acted the way Elecia did. As if the world was a toy for her entertainment.

“What is it?” Elecia asked. “Giving up already?”

Vhalla returned to her assault. “Elecia.” She threw a punch, the other woman dodged. “Tell me—how old—were you—when you—first came—to the palace?” Her words were punctuated with her fists.

Elecia took a step back and paused. “What are you talking about?” The woman arched an eyebrow.

“Was it for a gala? Or was your father or mother on official business?”

Elecia’s eyes widened, and Vhalla resumed the attack. The woman recovered slowly and her blocks were suddenly sloppy. “Did you sleep in a guest suite?” She threw right. “Or did your family stay somewhere else in the upper part of town?”

An annoyed frown crossed Elecia’s lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“And you’re an awful liar,” Vhalla spat back.