She’d been to war. She’d fought off a zealot group known as the Knights of Jadar. She’d stood up to the Emperor countless times. But there was nothing more terrifying than confronting her guilt.
A rainbow of color splashed across the floor down the middle of the central walkway. It drew Vhalla’s attention, as it always had, the moment she opened the door. It carried her eyes straight to the main desk where two people sat—the two people Vhalla sought.
Master Mohned, as ancient and sagely as he ever was, could barely be seen over the top of the desk. Next to him were the ringlet curls that Vhalla had admired for years. They were as beautiful as ever, but Vhalla no longer felt the same jealousy toward them. She had seen the world beyond the South in all its shades of beauty and would no longer trade her mess of brown hair. She no longer longed to be anyone more or less than who she was.
She was over halfway to the desk by the time Roan’s head turned up. Vhalla froze in place, her heartbeat frantic, her breathing stuck. Roan’s expression betrayed nothing.
The master stood slowly, following Roan’s attention to the dark-clad woman haunting their library.
Clenching her fists briefly to invite her magic to give her strength, Vhalla closed the remaining distance to the desk. She stood, alternating between looking at the master and at her childhood friend, her mouth trying to form words.
“Welcome home, Vhalla,” the master spoke up and spared Vhalla the toil of breaking the silence.
“Thank you, master.” She let the man’s warm nature soothe her nerves.
Roan still hadn’t said anything.
“Roan—”
“Vhalla—”
They spoke over each other, silencing instantly.
“Roan, my eyes are bleary already. Why don’t you give me a small rest and stretch your legs,” the master encouraged.
Roan pursed her lips together briefly, looking between Mohned and Vhalla.
“I’d like to speak with you.” Vhalla didn’t want to lose the opportunity the master placed before her. “Please?”
“All right,” Roan sighed. “I’m stiff anyway.”
The blonde looped around the desk, crossing her arms over her chest. Closer, Vhalla noticed the slightly darkened patches of skin that marred her flesh. Scars. The sight brought the memory of Jax back to her, bleeding on Major Schnurr’s floor. How many more of her friends would have to suffer or die because of her?
Vhalla turned quickly, starting down one of the rows of books. Roan thankfully followed, and they disappeared into the shelves.
“How’s the library been?” Vhalla forced.
“Fine.”
“Has the master been well?”
“He’s fine.” Roan clearly had little interest in actually conversing.
Vhalla stopped, leaning against one of the bookshelves for support. “Roan, I’m sorry.”
Despite the flush of pain those words spread across Vhalla’s chest, she managed to look the other woman in the eye and say them. Roan squinted marginally. Whatever pain Vhalla felt from guilt or shame could hardly be a fraction of what Roan had experienced.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what was happening, about my magic.” Vhalla didn’t know where to start. “I was going to tell you, really, but then—”
“You lied to me.”
“I didn’t!” Vhalla wished she could catch the hasty defense and swallow it back.
“You hid the truth, which is basically a lie.” Roan frowned. “You hid it from me, and from Sareem. Unless you told Sareem?”
Vhalla shook her head, finally breaking eye contact.
“You hid it from both of us and got him killed.”
“I never meant for that to happen,” Vhalla pleaded for Roan to understand. “I didn’t know how to tell you both. Sareem was just like everyone else; he hated magic. How could I tell him? And you were so over the sun for him that you were blinded to anything else. I thought that I’d join the Tower, tell you both, and then sort it out.”
“Isn’t it nice to be Vhalla Yarl?” Roan’s words cut deep.
“It’s not.”
The other woman snorted and rolled her eyes. “The world revolves around you and what you want, doesn’t it? The great Windwalker decides for the rest of us what we can know and when we can know it.”
“It wasn’t that, Roan. You know it wasn’t.”
“I thought you were my friend.” There it was—the deepest wound that still seeped blood. “I thought you were my friend, and you didn’t trust me.”
Roan couldn’t have known the depth of pain that her words caused. For all Vhalla had angrily faulted Aldrik for keeping her in the dark, she had done the same to Roan and Sareem. She knew that feeling of being shut out by someone