“Yes.” She half-smiled, “Don’t worry yourself, Freylinda. Come now, let’s study.”
I hesitated. Evelyn had mentioned me, but not accusingly? Surely Junnie would have more to say. She placed a gentle hand on my shoulder and led me in. “What shall we do today?”
I went back over our conversation, trying to find some meaning. Inspiration, or maybe distraction, hit me as I recalled the dark-headed stranger. “Lineages.”
Junnie raised an eyebrow as I sped to the study. I’d find out more about Evelyn later. This was my chance to learn of Chevelle Vattier.
I pored over a dozen volumes with determination. There were so many lineages but I needed something on the northern clans, something on Vattier. I’d need a library, maybe even the council library. I shivered. Okay, I wasn’t sure about that. Even if I worked up the nerve to sneak in, I didn’t have the magic to search so many documents to quickly find what I was after like the council members did. Stick to the library.
I made a short excuse to Junnie and headed out the door and around back. After I rounded a few houses, I cut back toward the village center. I wasn’t doing anything wrong but I didn’t want to advertise. I had no good reason for researching Chevelle Vattier, except I had been thinking about him all day. You just met him this morning. Not even met. Stared at. I flushed again. I glanced around constantly and walked quickly, shoulders hunched, looking like a criminal on my way to the old tree housing the library. Yeah, this wasn’t obvious.
Twice I imagined a set of dark eyes on me.
When I walked in, I remembered why I didn’t go to the library to study lineages. There must have been a thousand volumes and tenfold more scrolls in the main level alone. And no magic to lead me in the right direction. I went to the section which would most likely house the desired information, and then closed my eyes and concentrated. Maybe it wouldn’t work but I could try. I wasn’t sure I felt anything, but after a few minutes I started to feel stupid and opened my eyes, reaching out my right hand because I imagined it might have tingled a little. I grabbed a close volume and leafed through it.
It was a legacy of the Viridian Forest clan. Well, so much for the magic. I pulled another volume down. A diary of Momar the Ancient. This was going to be like greasing a monkey.
I sat for hours exploring the early texts, stories of the river clans and their battles with the Imps of Long Forgotten, firsthand accounts of the Trials of Istanna, and the long lineages of the eldest families. A whisper roused me from my studies. I realized it was late so I decided to retire and start again the next day. I rose unsteadily and heard the whisper again. No, not a whisper… wind. I glanced behind me to see paper falling to scatter on the floor. I looked around, but the library was practically empty. Someone on a higher level must have accidentally knocked the pages down. I bent over and read the closest document. It was an account from the northern clans. I was stunned but somehow managed to act quickly, stashing the papers in my shirt before attempting a casual exit to read them at home.
I made it out of the library and almost to the gate when I noticed a dark figure behind Virden Day’s tree. Chevelle. It looked like he was speaking with Virden. He turned his head slowly toward me… and I was staring into his eyes again. Oh give me a break; he’s half way across the village from you. But I was staring. I flushed, yet again, and turned away. The pages stuffed in my shirt felt like they were burning. I quickened my pace, caught my toe on a root, and stumbled. As soon as I righted myself, I wasn’t able to stop myself from peeking back to see if he had noticed, but he was gone. I didn’t know if I was relieved. My mind went over the encounter again as I made my way home. Did he always wear such a stern expression? Why was he looking at me so intensely? I had my answer: because you were staring at him, idiot.
It seemed to me Fannie always knew when I didn’t want to be bothered and went out of her way to ensure I was. I quietly entered the house, hoping to slip right into my room, but there she was, smack in the center of the sitting area, drunk as a two-day jamboree. She stopped me on my way through and forced me to sit, her audience. I watched her as she rambled. She wasn’t much of a looker. Dull blond hair with muddy brown eyes, and she was heavy, which was unusual for an elf. After a long evening ducking her verbal jabs and listening to her theory on the council’s secret underground conspiracies, I finally made it to my room.