“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.