Vhalla obliged her friend, stretching out an arm over the circulation desk where they both stood. Roan inspected the stitching carefully.
“Vhalla, these are quite nice.”
“I think they’re from Chater’s,” Vhalla mumbled.
“Chater’s? Were they a gift?” Roan released Vhalla’s hand slowly. An expression that was difficult to read crept up her face.
“They were from Sareem.” Vhalla looked back toward the palace side doors as though he would appear on command. The two girls were early, and he wasn’t.
“He likes you, Vhalla,” Roan said thoughtfully.
“I don’t think—” Something in the look on her friend’s face gave Vhalla pause. Roan was very certain of what she was saying. “Sareem? Really?”
“I think so.” Roan nodded.
The doors at one end of the library opened for the master and Sareem, and neither girl had an opportunity to speak after that. Roan was behind the desk with the master and Vhalla was sent among the books, as normal. She told herself that she really was going to seek out Sareem to thank him for his gift, that she wasn’t nervous, when he appeared at the end of her row.
“Sareem,” Vhalla said, pausing, placing a book on a shelf just beyond her short reach.
“Missed you yesterday.” He smiled, crossing the distance between them.
“It was nice to have a day off.” Vhalla scolded herself for beating around the bush. “Thank you for the gloves. They’re perfect.”
“You like them?” His whole face lit up in a way that elicited a twinge of pain within her. “I never had sisters growing up, and well, I was hopeless picking them out.”
“You did well,” Vhalla reassured.
“Say, Vhalla,” Sareem opened, leaning against the bookcase, his hands picking off imaginary lint from his robes. “During the festival soon, we’ll have some time off. We only have to work one day and well, I was thinking that maybe...you and I could, well...”
Vhalla’s heart slowed. This couldn’t be happening. Roan couldn’t be right. She looked at her childhood friend nervously. Certainly he was attractive. He had filled out and lost some of his boyishness, and his darker skin tone really complemented his lighter eyes and hair. He comes from a good family, she reminded herself.
“Vhalla!” The master called from the central desk suddenly. She glanced behind her and back at Sareem. “Vhalla, come here.”
“Go ahead,” her friend looked utterly deflated. “I’ll catch up with you later. Happy birthday, Vhalla.”
She hovered awkwardly, waiting for one long moment before the master’s call had her running back to the desk. What had Sareem wanted to ask? She didn’t dwell on it for long as she was quickly distracted by a waiting guard.
“Your presence has been requested by a member of the Court to assess some books,” the guard announced, almost mechanically.
“Me? You don’t mean the master?” Vhalla looked at the old man who was barely taller than the central desk. One of the few people in the world that was shorter than her.
“They asked for you by name,” the guard replied.
“You dare not refuse.” The master sent her off easily enough, but Vhalla heard the signs of curiosity in his wavering voice.
The guard had not lied. Vhalla followed him up through the palace and into a stately study. Bookshelves dominated two walls and she was left alone to pick through their contents without clear instruction. One wall possessed four large windows, and soon the scenery competed for her attention.
A side door opened. When a lean figure clad entirely in black crossed the threshold of the room, all else was forgotten.
“Prince Aldrik?” Vhalla blinked.
“I do believe I told you Aldrik was fine in private,” he reminded her.
“What are you doing here?” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other as he approached.
“Well, it seems you had forgotten something.” Pulling a hand from behind his back he held out her winter robes. Vhalla felt a foreign bubbling in her stomach and, as if on cue, he continued, “Plus, you told me that if you could, you would come and let me teach you today.”
She laughed. She teased him for pulling her from her work, and she scolded him for his use of authority to get what he wanted. But his abduction of her was far gentler than the minister’s, and Vhalla found she did not mind being surrounded by opulence. In good spirits, the prince was enjoyable company, and he had her moving a quill from one side of a desk to the other without touching it by the end of the day.