“Breathe with me,” he whispered, and she obeyed.

They sat for over fifty breaths, simply staring at each other. His hands clutched her shoulders, her hands clutching his arms. Both of their features relaxed, and she wanted to collapse into him, but common sense and who she was meant that such contact would be extraordinarily unwelcome on his part. She slowly relaxed her grip and let her hands fall.

“Vhalla...” he breathed, gently taking his hands off her shoulders. “How do you feel?”

She took a breath and assessed herself. Now that the terror and the frantic beating of her heart had subsided, she felt the best she’d felt all day. “Better.” Her voice came out as normal; even her eyes were obeying her and not seeing double.

He smiled weakly. “I am glad.” Aldrik wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He placed his forehead in his palm and rested his elbow on his bent knee. “I did not know. I did not realize you had already progressed that far. I would have...” he trailed off into his thoughts.

“Progressed how far?” She put her hands behind her, leaning back to give him some space out of politeness.

“Do you remember how we met?” Aldrik glanced at her.

“The library?” she asked.

He nodded. “You were doing it then too, but you thought they were dreams.”

“Doing what?” she asked, a small trepidation growing in her.

“I have only read about it and, even then, the literature is sparse,” he started, running a hand across his hair, trying to tame escaped tendrils back into place. “It said that Windwalkers were invisible sentries for their causes. Of course, there are a number of ways that could be read. I only briefly entertained that it would be literal.” He sighed.

“Where to begin?” He paused a moment. “Every Affinity has a literal, elemental Affinity. But some scholars have theorized that this is only the tip of what sorcerers can really do. That underlying every elemental, worldly Affinity is an Affinity of the self.”

“I remember you explaining it some, about Groundbreakers.” Vhalla tried to keep up.

“Indeed, you have a good memory.” He gave her a tired smile. Vhalla’s stomach did a little flip at his praise. “Windwalkers were said to have an Affinity for the mind. That the real power of the Windwalker was based within their mental abilities.”

“I am not that smart,” she said lightly.

He rolled his eyes. “You are, but it is not in that way. Intellect and this skill are different. Either way, I would say what you have done is more in line with the mental side of your powers, complemented by the physical,” he finished.

Vhalla made a note to find a book on this topic from somewhere.

“And what have I done?”

She was missing the point.

“You are separating your consciousness from your physical body; it is called projection.” He looked at her. “You were doing it in your dreams. But that is only a quarter as impressive as doing it when you are awake.”

She stared back at him, accepting it all with a nod.

“Today you did it at the ceremony. But you startled me.” He shifted and looked away uncomfortably. “I lashed out at you. I tried to draw back quickly. I just felt someone there. I think it was that which knocked the link with your body out of line and ended up locking you out of your physical body.”

“I think it was a little messed up before that.” She sat up straighter, looking at his profile thoughtfully. He turned back to examine at her curiously.

“All day I was having trouble focusing my eyes; it was as if I was seeing two things,” Vhalla mused. Realization dawned on his features. “I also had a throbbing headache.”

He looked away again and stood. She heard him mutter something under his breath. Vhalla shifted her feet onto the floor and sat at the edge of the bed. She took in his tall lean shape against the light of the late sun in the window.

“Vhalla.” Her name sound strained against his lips. “It would likely be best if we do not see each other for some time, at least not until you decide if you wish to be in the Tower or not.”

His words hit her directly in the gut and knocked the wind from her. Suddenly she was on her feet. “No,” Vhalla said firmly, unwavering as he turned.

“The Bond... Being near me is not good for you now.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Your magic is progressing faster than I can teach you and—”

“Do you want me to go away?” she asked directly.

Aldrik looked at her with parted lips. “No, I do not,” he confessed with a small shake of his head.

“Good. You are my teacher,” she said firmly. “You can’t leave me now.”

He turned and crossed the room, standing inches from her, bearing down upon her with his commanding form. But she stood defiantly against him, trying to meet him inch for inch.

“And,” Vhalla started slowly, turning her head away. She hardly had the courage to say what she wanted; looking at him while doing so was far too much. “You are my friend, whatever this commoner’s friendship is worth.”

His hand reached up, and he placed his fingertips under her chin. Moving nothing but his hand, he guided her face back toward him and up to meet his eyes. He stared at her for a long time. Vhalla felt her heart beat in her throat, and she tried to swallow it back into her chest. He removed his hand, letting it hover in the air uncertainly for just a moment before it fell, feather light, upon her cheek.

When he spoke it was slow and deliberate, little more than a whisper. His voice had a richness to it that she had never heard before. “It is worth very much.” His eyes consumed hers.

Whatever spell they were under broke the moment Larel slipped back into the room. Aldrik’s hand dropped away from her face with such precision and poise that even Vhalla questioned if it had been there at all. If Larel had seen anything she was completely unfazed by the prince standing in close proximity to the common girl.

“The halls are fairly clear. Fritz is making a scene in the dining hall.” She gave a small nod to Aldrik, which he returned.

“Thank you, Larel.” He vanished through the door, pulling Vhalla with him with barely enough time for Vhalla to offer her own quick thanks. Larel gave her a small smile that promised secrecy.

They were down the winding hallway of the Tower and into another side door before Vhalla could assess what level of the palace she was on. The prince’s strides were long, and Vhalla struggled to keep up with them. She almost fell into him as he stopped suddenly before another door.

“Vhalla, listen.” Aldrik’s hand paused on the wood. His profile was lit by a single flame bulb and the lighting outlined his angular features. “Victor will catch wind of this; when he does, I am certain he will try to force you into joining the Tower.”

“What will he do? What exactly does he want from me?” She didn’t know why she was whispering, but it felt right.

“I...” Aldrik froze, debating his next words. “Do you know the history of the Windwalkers, yet?”

“I know about the West...” Suddenly Vhalla was trying to recall everything she read with Fritz.

“Then you know that there are people in this world who are greatly interested in your powers.” Aldrik’s eyes darted down the hall toward the Tower.

“That was over a hundred years ago.” Vhalla didn’t want to believe what he was implying. “It’s not—”

“Not so long ago,” he warned.

“Why are you telling me all this?” Vhalla asked. It finally dawned on her the cause of all their secrecy. Was the crown prince protecting her? If so, from what? Or, from who?

“Because I was led to believe that Victor gave you a month to choose magic,” Aldrik answered.

“Only because I threatened to Eradicate myself.” Vhalla leaned against the far wall.

“Still, you have a choice,” he reinforced. “I would like to see you choose this life.”