Vhalla’s face flushed redder than the setting sun. Her breath was still quick from the fight. Her fingers suddenly itched to take Aldrik’s.
“Vhalla.” The crown prince summoned her attention with an awkward cough.
“Lady Vhalla!” a voice called, interrupting them.
Vhalla turned to see Timanthia running up from one of the side pathways of the tent city. She heard Aldrik take a sharp inhale of air.
“My prince.” Tim skidded to a halt, giving a clumsy bow. Her attention turned back to Vhalla. “I’ve been trying to find you.”
“Yes?” Vhalla thought of the shredded cape the girl returned to her.
“Since your demonstration, since I saw ...” Tim smoothed some stray strands of dark blonde hair away from her eyes. “I don’t know what happened to your cape. It was fine when I rolled it up, when we returned to Soricium.”
“I see.” Vhalla debated if the girl was to be believed.
“But, well, it was amazing what you did, moving the archer’s wall.” Tim fumbled in her pockets. “My friends started asking me about you; they wanted to know more about your magic, about being you.”
Tim pulled out a dark scrap of cloth from her pocket. Painted upon it with some thick white paste in a rough hand was an attempt at the feather symbol that had been emblazoned upon the original cloak.
Vhalla stared at it in confusion.
“We started making them, my friends and I.” Tim passed it from hand to hand.
Jax and Baldair took a step closer. Even Aldrik leaned in to get a better look.
“I know it’s not very good, it’s just the stuff they use on tents to make them waterproof. There’s no actual paint here.”
“Why?” Vhalla asked, bewildered. “Why are you making these?”
“Well,” Tim mumbled. “We all, we think it’s lucky. You’ve survived so much, the attack on the Capital, the sandstorm, the assassination attempt, getting through the North. And, no offense, but there’s no reason a library girl should have survived all that.” Tim covered her mouth in shock. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, you’re right,” Vhalla laughed.
“Anyways, I guess, we feel like there’s something blessed about the winds of the Windwalker, and that this will protect us in the battles to come.” Tim focused uncertainly on the cloth in her hands.
“I don’t think—”
“You may wear it,” Aldrik announced from Vhalla’s side, cutting her short.
Vhalla’s attention jerked toward the prince in surprise.
“Really?” Tim brought her eyes up to the prince’s.
“It was my design; I should have to give just as much permission,” Aldrik said flatly, looking away.
Vhalla stared up at him in shock that he would openly confess such a thing. “I suppose it is fine, then.” Vhalla smiled, trying to reassure the girl.
“Thank you!” Tim beamed. She glanced at the princes, as if suddenly remembering herself. “I’m sure you have business to attend to. I shouldn’t keep you.”
Vhalla’s smile slipped from her face the moment Tim had vanished. “It won’t protect them,” she whispered to no one in particular.
“Neither will their prayers to the Mother. Will you tell them not to pray?”
Vhalla blinked at Aldrik; it seemed an odd thing for a prince to say about the religion of the Empire. “No, but—”
“Vhalla, soldiers need hope, and there is such precious little to go around,” Baldair explained. “They need courage, motivation, the belief in a greater force—any greater force. They need symbols and beacons for that hope.”
Vhalla nodded, her thoughts a step behind Jax and Baldair. She chewed over the words. Baldair was seeing something she didn’t. He had been for some time.
