by Elise Kova
She sat between Larel and Fritz, and they did a good job of steering the conversation around her so that she only participated as much as she felt like. Larel spoke with other Firebearers, who wore capped sleeves and collared jackets. Fritz seemed engrossed in his own world talking to the man, Grahm, at his side. From the corners of her eyes Vhalla saw the men’s thighs touch briefly as Fritz leaned in. Was she simply imagining the warm glow radiating between them?
After the meal was over, Larel escorted her up to her temporary room and Vhalla appreciated the artwork in the halls all over again. She tried snuffing a bulb again, but only succeeded in shattering it.
“Really, Vhalla,” Larel sighed, though she didn’t sound genuinely upset. The other woman held out a hand, and the glass shards briefly burnt white-hot and disappeared.
They entered the workroom, and soon Vhalla was settling beneath the covers. Larel had five more potions for her patient to take and three bandages to replace.
“You’ll speak with the minister tomorrow.” The Western woman looked at Vhalla’s bruising. Even Vhalla was surprised at how fast her skin was healing now.
“What will happen then?” she braved to ask.
“I don’t know.” Larel shook her head. “But I’ll be here to help with whatever it is, as long as you don’t mind me as your mentor.”
Vhalla stared at the dark-haired woman for a long moment. She remembered her harsh words nights ago. Perhaps they had been deserved, perhaps not. Things had changed, and as much as Vhalla had been trying for years to grow into a woman, right now she needed her inner child who embraced the world shifting around her.
“I don’t mind,” Vhalla whispered. “If you still don’t mind being my mentor.”
Larel only smiled.
VHALLA MET THE dawn the next morning. It hadn’t been pain or discomfort that woke her early but apprehension for what the day would hold. Vhalla had spent almost a week in the Tower. Granted, half of it she had been unconscious. The minister had stopped to see her twice more when she was awake, overseeing her healing personally.
Her opinion of the Minister of Sorcery had improved with his efforts to heal her, but Vhalla still remembered his conversation with the prince. The minister kept assuring her that she could trust him, that he meant her no harm. Vhalla hoped that he was sincere.
She met the minster in the room adjacent to her temporary chambers. Vhalla sat in the same chair she had occupied weeks ago. This time a mug of steaming tea was placed before her, which Vhalla timidly—bravely— sipped. Unsurprisingly, it was high-quality. Superior food was something she could grow accustomed to, Vhalla mused as she absorbed the tea’s aromatics.
“I am glad you are feeling better,” the minister started after acquiring his own tea. “Better enough that I’ve already heard rumors of my apprentices and mentors taking dinner with the first Windwalker.” Vhalla avoided his stare, guilty as charged. “Which means, we need to speak on your future.”
She wasn’t sure what to say.
“I am sure Larel has already explained most of it to you. But, you are a sorcerer now, your place is here in the Tower. We have worked hard to create a situation that is a haven for sorcerers of all ranks and skills. You will be allowed to practice freely and will be taught how to control and apply your new skills.” He folded his hands, placing them on the table.
“Now, to accept the black robes, you will have to resign your current position in the library. That is not to say you could not patronize the library in your spare time. But you would move here, into the Tower, to live and work among your new peers.” He produced a piece of paper from within his robes that was a formal decree of change in apprenticeship. It had four blank spaces for signatures.
There it was, laid out so neatly.
“And if I refuse?” Vhalla found herself asking. The minister paused, and Vhalla tried to decipher what flashed across his eyes. “Can I be Eradicated?”
“Vhalla,” Minister Victor began slowly. “You are the first Windwalker in nearly one-hundred fifty years.” Her heart began to race. “I would think that—”
“Is it not my choice?” she asked quickly.
“It is.” The minister knew already he would get nowhere by forcing her.
Vhalla settled into her chair with a soft sigh. “Minister,” Vhalla began, “the Festival of the Sun is coming.” If the changing colors of the trees below her window were any indication, the Empire’s largest celebration would start within the month. “I realize I am in a place to ask little but...may I have until the end of the festival to make my decision?”
“Vhalla.” The minister pressed his fingertips together. “I am sure you can now appreciate the dangers of having an Awoken and untrained sorcerer around the palace.”
“But wasn’t the majority of the danger from not knowing how I would wake?” Vhalla asked timidly. “Now that I have Awoken, there’s less of a risk.”
“No, you have seen how your emotions can influence your magic without training to suppress that natural response.” The minister shook his head, and her heart sank. “I will need you to make your decision today.”
Vhalla frowned. She stared at the icy blue eyes of the minister, remembering his conversation with the prince. Whatever they wanted from her she was not about to give it easily.
“Then I choose to be Eradicated,” Vhalla announced boldly.
“Vhalla—” Victor began slowly.
“Was it not my choice?” she cut him off. “If I am forced to choose now, then I will make the safest decision and choose to be Eradicated.”
“You are the first Windwalker,” the minister repeated in dumb shock.
“It’s a shame, isn’t it?” Vhalla swallowed her fear to maintain her bold front.
He stared at her for a long moment. Vhalla gripped the hem of the cotton slip they had put her in. She had to stand her ground. If they truly needed her, the minister would not allow her to be Eradicated. Pushing him was dangerous, but Vhalla needed to know the truth.
“Very well,” the minister gave in with a sigh. Her heart thumped in her chest. “You may have until the end of the Festival of the Sun to make your decision.”
She was right. Whatever they wanted, it involved her magic. Vhalla had one month to find out why, and then decide if she would keep her magic.
“Thank you, minister,” Vhalla said politely.
Within the hour Larel returned her clothes. Placing the clothes upon the bed, Vhalla looked at them in surprise. Her robes looked the cleanest they had ever been, the drab cotton almost looking white. She picked up her maroon tunic to find that her finger no longer fit through any holes in the seam.
“We mended them also,” Larel noted obviously.
“Thank you.” Vhalla had not seen any servants in the Tower, which meant that the apprentices were sharing the work in all areas, just like they were the cooking. She wondered if whenever Larel said we what she really meant was I.
Larel excused herself, and Vhalla changed slowly. Lifting her arms caused sharp pains to her ribs, making her wince. Despite her battered, purpled, and scratched body her clothes still fit. She was still the same person, or close enough.
She walked at Larel’s side in silence, unable to find words. The other woman had a comfortable way about her, and Vhalla did not feel pressured to speak. Her head was full weighing her choices, and it hurt to think she only had one month to arrive at a decision.
It should be easy, Vhalla scolded herself. She should be Eradicated and put it all behind her. But, as Vhalla slipped through a foreign door behind Larel, she stole one last glance down the Tower. There was something about this place that Vhalla could no longer deny.
“So you know, the minister informed the library that you fell ill with Autumn Fever,” Larel explained dutifully.
“I see.” Vhalla nodded, wondering how deep the Tower’s influence actually ran in the palace. “Larel, thank you,” Vhalla said suddenly. After all the woman’s care, Vhalla was leaving without giving
the Tower anything in return.
“Take care of yourself,” Larel demanded gently.
Vhalla vanished through the fogged wall and stood at a crossroads.
She willed her feet to move, but they wouldn’t budge.
Something in her screamed to run back down that dim walkway into the arms of the people who had pulled her from death. The people who knew about the change she was enduring and could help her face it. It would be easier if she never went back to the library. If she never looked upon the faces of those who had been her family since she came to the South.
Mohned’s face appeared in her mind’s eye. Eyes, milky with age, that still held an intensity as they looked at the world from behind circular spectacles. Guilt registered as a stomach spasm. She couldn’t leave like that. So she moved one step at a time back to her old home.
Most of the bandages on her hands were gone but the purple of the bruising was still severe in a few places. Vhalla was glad for her long sleeves as they hid most of the remaining wounds.
She didn’t have much strength to push open the ornate doors of the library, so Vhalla was grateful when the guards took hold from within and pulled them open the rest of the way.
During her absence, the Ministry of Culture had begun their preparations for the Festival of the Sun. Large cornucopia hung from the ceiling. Boughs of wheat accented the titles of each library stack. Even the circulation desk had been decorated in sweet-smelling garland made of autumn leaves and flowers.
Sareem was the first to notice her as he stood behind the desk, looking over Mohned’s shoulders at something. “Vhalla!” he shouted.
The master scolded him lightly, but Sareem was already running toward her. Two arms scooped her up into a big hug, and Vhalla didn’t even mind the pain in her ribs and shoulders. Echoing his cry was Roan. She dashed from the rows and hugged her next, then Cadance, followed by a much more mild but smiling Lidia. Even the master walked half the length of the library to greet her.
“How do you feel Vhalla?” Master Mohned’s voice was heard through the din of chatter.
“Much better.” She blinked back tears. She knew he asked because of the lie about Autumn Fever, but Vhalla could answer honestly.
“We were all really worried for you,” Sareem interjected. Vhalla rubbed her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Cadance’s voice was small.
“I just missed everyone a lot, that’s all,” Vhalla sniffed, frustrated with herself.
“It was only a week and some, Vhalla,” Roan said with a smile, patting her back. “Actually, not bad for Autumn Fever.”
“It felt like a lifetime to me.” She gave them a tired smile, knowing that they couldn’t understand.
The master adjusted his spectacles. “Well, I think it should be obvious that we are all pleased to have Vhalla with us again,” Mohned began. “Though let’s give her some air and get back to work.”
With another round of warm words and small hugs everyone parted ways, save for her, the master, and Sareem. She followed the men to the desk. “I’ll give you a very simple task today, Vhalla. Please sort through the section of potions to make sure it’s all in place.”
Pleased with this task, walking through the library was like reuniting with an old friend. Each shelf was a familiar face, many books holding memories for her as much as holding information. Vhalla spared a glance toward the mysteries section as she plunged herself into the rows about potions and putting her situation out of sight, but frustratingly not out of mind. She could go on, she realized, just like this again. Like nothing had ever happened. She could be Eradicated and put magic in the past, like a bad dream.
Her face was wet with tears again, and Vhalla mentally cursed herself for crying so much. A shelf became her support. Sliding down against it, she tilted her head back and looked up at the tall bookcases that held the books she was supposed to be sorting.
As she sat there in the silence, breathing deeply and attempting to regain control of herself, Vhalla became aware of something she had yet to consider: This was the first time she had to make a choice about her future.
Her birthday was in a few days, she realized. She would be eighteen and had never made a decision for herself that mattered. Something about it terrified her; something about it shamed her; something about it pushed her forward.
Picking herself up off the floor, she began to sort books. Her mind was too occupied to read any of them. The work was solace enough this day.
The menial task kept her hands busy while Vhalla’s mind did its own sorting in the silence. By the time the closing bells rang, she had vowed that no matter what the future held she was going to make her own decision. Despite what everyone said about sorcerers, Vhalla’s short time in the Tower had shown her differently. She wasn’t about to let the whispers of common folk, or of Lords heard through a door, decide her future for her. Vhalla was stronger than that. At least, that was what she wanted to believe.
As the library staff was leaving, a small team from the Ministry of Culture carried in items to finish decorating. Vhalla wondered how soon the festival would start. It was one of the best times of the year as most of the staff was only forced to work one day so they could enjoy the festivities.
“Vhalla, come eat with us.” Sareem touched her shoulder lightly.
She didn’t feel hungry—the weight of the world filled her stomach—but Vhalla found herself agreeing nonetheless.
The dining hall was a ruckus place, full of people from all levels of the palace. It was a cavernous space with long rows of wooden tables. Clanking metal plates and glasses, conversations in a multitude of dialects, and fights and laughter rang in her ears. This reminded her why she normally didn’t eat here, but at the same time she felt nostalgic for her girlhood years when she had been more social and often ate with her peers.
Vhalla sat with Sareem at her left. Roan sat opposite Sareem. Lidia and Cadance stayed with them too, and the library staff ate and enjoyed each other’s company until Vhalla could no longer contain her yawning.
“Someone is sleepy.” Sareem rested a palm on her forehead.
“A little.” Vhalla nodded.
“You’re likely still recovering from the fever,” Lidia pointed out, her motherly instincts showing.
“Right,” she agreed softly, looking down at her fidgeting fingers. She was still recovering, which wasn’t that much of a lie. When Vhalla’s eyes raised themselves again she caught Sareem’s. He was squinting oddly, and before Vhalla could ask he was on his feet.
“Well, I think I should see Vhalla to her room, make sure she’s all right,” Sareem announced. She looked up at the man’s form. When had Sareem grown so tall?
“It’s fine, stay.” Vhalla stood, ignoring a sideways stare from Roan.
“No, no, I want to see you back,” Sareem insisted. He offered her his arm, and Vhalla took it timidly. It wasn’t the first time she had walked arm-in-arm with Sareem, but it was the first time when they weren’t kids running off to some mischief. She felt a little odd, and it wasn’t only because of the fact that Roan’s stare followed them all the way out.
They walked down the mostly-empty halls in silence. Vhalla adjusted her hand in his elbow, but he made no indication he wanted it removed. She almost jumped when his tenor voice finally broke the silence.
“Vhalla, you didn’t have Autumn Fever, did you?” Sareem asked outright.
Vhalla gaped up at him in shock. “What are you talking about? Of course I did! Where else was I?” she replied with panic.
“I don’t know.” Sareem shook his head, and there was the tell-tale severity of concern in his ocean blue eyes as he looked at her. “But, I know you already had Autumn Fever when you were a girl, and it shouldn’t put you out for a week. Plus, I can see a bandage on your forearm.”
She snatched her hand back from his elbow quickly, pushing her sleeve down. Vhalla bit her lip. What could she say?
“If anyone asks about your fever, send them to
me,” he instructed.
“Why?” Vhalla asked softly, the food in her stomach churning.
“Haven’t I told you before? You’re a bad liar.” Sareem shook his head. “It’ll be more convincing if you send them to me.”
“Why would you do that?” They stopped walking before her door, and Vhalla stared up at her friend.
“Because, it might help you,” he answered, glancing away. Something suddenly felt awkward. “I don’t know why you’re lying, Vhalla. But I trust that you wouldn’t be trying to if it weren’t important. If you ever need someone to talk to, I will be there.”
“Thank you, Sareem.” Vhalla shifted her feet.
To her surprise he raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles lightly. “Rest well, Vhalla,” Sareem whispered, before releasing her fingers and starting back toward the dining hall.
Vhalla was helpless to do little more than watch him go in a dumbfounded silence.
TWO DAYS CAME and went with such a normalcy that it seemed slightly surreal. Vhalla returned to almost all of her usual duties. The master gave her extra leeway in the mornings to help with her recovery. While Vhalla habitually woke with the dawn, she enjoyed the extra time to relax in bed and dressed at her leisure. It caused some guilt, but there was a good deal of that feeling lately as she felt no closer to her decision regarding the Tower.
Things with Sareem had not changed after her first night back. At times she could feel a strange stare coming from his direction. Sometimes he would sit closer than normal as they hid from work on her window seat. But neither were prepared to cross the line between them.
She began to look at him differently, forcing Vhalla to think back on Roan’s words. Vhalla had so readily dismissed her friend’s inquiry about a relationship, but now she thought of it during each of Sareem’s glances. Why was he paying so much attention to her? It piled on her list of everything she would eventually sort through.