“It’s strange to imagine you fighting,” Daniel thought aloud. “Not that I want to say you couldn’t or shouldn’t. When you were on trial, you didn’t seem like a combatant,” he added hastily.

“I wasn’t.” Vhalla stared forward toward the barren horizon. She’d picked the right day to ride at the front of the host. The remaining shrub trees and grasses of the forest were dissolving into the sands of the Western Waste. The Great Imperial Way cut through the pale yellow dunes like an alabaster snake, and there was nothing else for as far as she could see ahead of them.

“Would you spar with me?” Daniel asked. “I’ve never had much of an opportunity to spar with sorcerers; Jax is usually busy with the Black Legion. I’d love to have the practice.” He smiled and pushed his sweat-slicked hair away from his face.

“Sure.” Vhalla nodded and adjusted the chainmail hood Aldrik had made for her, keeping the sun off her cheeks.

“When we stop, then.” Daniel seemed genuinely excited.

As a result of her decision to enter the fray, their talk settled on the history of the Black Legion and Tower of Sorcerers. Unsurprisingly, the rift between sorcerers and Commons ran deeply, and what Craig and Daniel said about it being worse in the military proved true. When the host broke for the day, the swordsmen and women regarded Vhalla cautiously as she lingered. She’d ridden with Craig and Daniel enough times to no longer receive looks or whispers, but staying with them after they stopped seemed to cross a new line.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Vhalla asked after they tied off their mounts.

“Yes, Danny, are you sure you want to do this?” Raylynn gave Vhalla a sideways glance. Things may have improved between them, but the improvement was marginal.

“I am,” Daniel laughed. “I know Vhalla won’t hurt me.”

Raylynn clearly didn’t share the same sentiment, but Vhalla found Daniel’s trust and confidence refreshing. He seemed to always give her the benefit of the doubt, to trust her without needing a reason. It had quickly devolved into a foreign feeling since becoming a sorcerer.

Vhalla and Daniel squaring off attracted the attention of more than one person, and the other soldiers began to gather, curiously gawking at the sorcerer in black plate opposite a Golden Guard.

“An easy round, then?” Daniel drew his sword. It was a beautiful blade with a golden pommel in the shape of wheat. Vhalla had admired it on many occasions as they had spoken of their homes in the East. “To forfeit?”

“To forfeit.” Vhalla nodded, clenching her fists. She was almost dizzy with power. The winds of the desert were swift, unblocked, and strong.

“Craig, if you’ll do the honors.” Daniel glanced at their friend.