On the third night, she was setting up Larel’s and her tent with just her magic alone. That was the first time Vhalla felt eyes on her for her sorcery, eyes that weren’t daunting or scared. The Black Legion began to pay attention to their Windwalker once more, not for the Night of Fire and Wind, but for the daily feats she was beginning to be able to perform. It was a sanity-supporting confidence-booster for Vhalla.

She was in such a high place with it all that when Aldrik paired her with Elecia during training—at the other woman’s request—Vhalla didn’t even blink. She accepted the other woman’s presence opposite her. If it was an actual competition for Aldrik’s attention, it was one Vhalla was winning. The crown prince had rode at her side without stop, and tomorrow they would practice Projection again.

Aldrik had been intent on working toward more hand-to-hand combat, and Vhalla was happy to oblige. The Northern-looking woman needed to be knocked off her high horse and tonight was Vhalla’s night, Vhalla assured herself. She’d been feeling stronger with every passing week, less sore, more capable.

“You sure you want to do this, Yarl?” Elecia smirked, her eyes darting toward Aldrik.

“It’s just practice, right?” Vhalla sunk into her preferred fighting stance, one arm up and the other at chest-height.

“Oh, of course.” Elecia balled her right hand into a fist, clasping her left overtop.

Vhalla clenched her hands into fists and welcomed her magic as well. “Your mark, or mine?”

“Mine—don’t want you cheating.” Elecia laced her voice with sarcasm, but Vhalla knew it was a thin veil for sincerity, and her eye twitched.

Elecia moved, and Vhalla instantly went on the offensive.

The dark-skinned woman dodged and ducked ably. She narrowly avoided Vhalla’s hooks and jabs. But Vhalla’s punches were missing by a narrower margin than she would’ve expected.

Vhalla took a breath and focused. She began to feel the ripples in the currents of air as the other woman’s muscles tensed and pulsed before she threw a punch or kick. Vhalla’s body knew before her eyes could see. Vhalla’s heart began to race. She could do this: she could fight.

A pulse began to fill Vhalla’s ears, and she allowed herself to rely on instinct. Vhalla moved like the wind, fast and precise. Her hands swung in exact arcs, hitting their target almost every time. The constant offense had Elecia beginning to panic, and panic made the other woman sloppy. Vhalla heard nothing other than the heartbeat.