“A sorcerer,” she finished for him, crossing her arms on her chest.
He took a step back from her, “You, you can’t be.” He shook his head. “You’re not one of them.”
“I am,” she said sourly. “That’s what you want to involve yourself with.” She glared at him with all the icy bitterness that she could muster. That’s right, she was one of them, and they were different and scary.
Sareem shook his head and took another step back. He opened his mouth to speak, his jaw quivered, and then he turned and ran.
Vhalla sat back down at the desk and stared at the book. She listened to his hasty footsteps up the stairs and out of the archives.
The soundless scream of hurt and frustration caught on a sob, and Vhalla lost herself to tears. After crying for an undiscernible amount of time, Vhalla peeled herself from the table and sat straighter. Numbly, her hands returned to their work. She should have known better with Sareem. After his reaction to the simple mention of sorcerers, showing him magic had been foolish. There was no way he was ever going to accept her for who she was, and she wasn’t about to shed tears over someone with such a narrow mind, over a false friend.
Vhalla stopped mid-step, the door to the archives closing behind her. She stared at the tapestry that Aldrik had led her through during one of their lessons.
What was she? Was she library apprentice or sorcerer? She vowed to get serious about figuring out her powers and making a decision soon.
“Vhalla.” She had almost made it to the front desk when her name was hastily whispered from between bookshelves. She kept her gaze forward. “Vhalla!” She pretended not to hear and walked with purpose.
“Master, I finished the first manuscript. I don’t feel well. May I be excused a little early today please?”
The master and Roan both looked up at her with matching puzzled stares.
“Very well, Vhalla. Go ahead,” the master nodded.
“Thank you,” she said politely, bowed, and left. Vhalla pointedly ignored Sareem standing at the edge of the shelves, watching silently as she strode out of the library.
Her feet battered against the stone floor as she marched back to her room. Balling and uncurling her hands, Vhalla struggled to keep a fresh wave of anger at bay. He was supposed to be her friend; how could he react like she was suddenly less than human?
Vhalla stopped and a nearby candle flickered out, then the next—all at once she was standing in the darkness. She swallowed a cry of surprise, all but running to her room.
Slamming the door behind her, Vhalla dug her nails into the grain of the wood and caught her breath. She was already treading lightly. Any rogue and wild emotions could force her decision, and she felt so close to making it on her own. A scent tickled her nose, and Vhalla opened her eyes, her heart slowing.
Laid upon her pillow was a long stemmed red rose. Tied around it was a length of black ribbon by which a note was held to it. Everything melted away, and her hands were soon devouring the token.
Vhalla,
I am sorry I could not steal you away this day. You have my word that tomorrow I shall make every effort.
Sincerely,
A.C.S.
P.S.
When will I see you in black?
Laughing softly, Vhalla curled up in bed holding the flower’s head to her face, inhaling its rich scent. Perhaps she could request he steal her back to that rose garden? Vhalla laughed lightly, imagining her ordering a prince. Somehow, it didn’t seem so far-fetched.
A.C.S. she pondered as her lids grew heavy. Aldrik was the A, and Solaris—the Imperial Family’s name— was the S. But, what was the C? Vhalla shook her head, closing her eyes and giving herself to the relaxing scent, a mystery for a later time perhaps. It was barely dark but all she wanted to do was lie there, and stretch her mind as far as she could to find that place that smelled of roses.
MOONLIGHT STREAMED THROUGH the glass overhead, and Vhalla tilted her chin to the sky, watching the moon float by. The rose garden was no different at night then it had been during the day. The darkness didn’t bother her; she saw everything brilliantly clear around her. There was a mysterious fuzziness to it if she moved her head too quickly, which was easily explained away as the moonlight playing tricks on her.
She stood and walked to the gazebo door, attempting to open it. It wouldn’t budge. She tried the handle again but found it unwilling to move. Vhalla wanted to be outside.