“I went to the Tower entrance, a Tower entrance? I don’t even know the names of the people who answered. I simply said your name and they knew, they came without question, and I gave you to them. I didn’t even know their names.” His voice cracked. “And then they were frantic, and they took you. Vhalla, you didn’t move, you were hardly breathing. And they took you and I-I didn’t know if you were alive, so I waited.” He sounded so hopeless and pathetic that Vhalla couldn’t help but put her arms lightly around her friend’s waist and pat his back in a friendly manner.
They stood together as he slowly regained his composure. Eventually he released her and wiped his face with his palms.
“Sorry about that,” Sareem tried to laugh.
Vhalla shook her head. “I appreciate it, Sareem. Obviously, they did help. You did the right thing,” she tried to reassure him, and it looked like it worked. “Did any of the others ask?”
“Yeah, but I told them I found a cleric, and that it was the heat getting to your head. I stayed also to kick anyone out, saying you were here but needed rest,” Sareem added with a small nod.
Vhalla felt guilty for putting her friend through all this, no matter how unkind he had been to her about her magic.
“I’m sorry that you have to keep lying for someone like me.” She took a step away from him.
“Someone like you?” He looked honestly confused, which annoyed her slightly.
“A sorcerer,” she said directly, watching him hold back a wince at the word.
“I tried to tell you earlier. Even if you are a-a, someone with magic, you are still Vhalla.” He took a step closer to her. “You’re still the girl I met when I first came here. The girl who is always so lost in her books that she can never spare a boy like me a glance.” Vhalla took another small step to avoid his encroaching presence. Her back found the door. “The girl who I never had the courage to ask anywhere because I always thought I was too daft, too boring, too plain for her.”
“I’m nothing better than you, Sareem,” she whispered as he took another step forward.
“To me you always will be. I was frightened,” he whispered as he placed his hand beside her face, palm against the door. “I was frightened that your... development would take you away from me.” He looked away for only a brief moment before staring her down with his gray-blue eyes. “And then, today, I thought I really had lost you. As I sat here waiting, I realized I can’t keep waiting, or else I really will lose you.”
Frantically trying to think of a way to divert the conversation, Vhalla didn’t even have time to close her eyes before his lips were pressed against hers.
SAREEM WAS KISSING her.
It seemed the most improbable, impossible, farfetched thought, but as Vhalla stood pressed against her door—his right hand beside her face, his left having found her hip—it was an undeniable truth. His lips were soft, and his breath hot against her cheek. As time stretched, something seemed odd.
Vhalla tried to close her eyes; she tried to enjoy the kiss. But her mouth refused to move, and in the end, as he pulled away she leaned against the door feeling rather stupid. It had been some time since she had last kissed. Perhaps that was it, her awkwardness came from being out of practice. It wasn’t as though she ever considered herself an adept kisser in the first place.
She stared at him. He had a nice build; while not overly muscular, he was not portly either. He was tall and handsome with long hair. Logic forced Vhalla to admit that he really was one of the best matches someone like her could hope for.
It was frustrating that logic couldn’t force her to feel any chemistry with him. Perhaps it would grow in time. His devotion had been heart-warming and charming, in spite of his blatant issues with her magic. Vhalla knew plenty of people in long-term, happy relationships without fiery passion.
“Sareem...” she finally managed, breaking the silence.
“Vhalla, I-I hope I wasn’t too forward.” He straightened and looked away.
She felt like she could breathe again. “I-your-I am moved by your compassion.” Vhalla hoped she was off to a good start. He looked at her hopefully. She tried to swallow the odd guilt that sprung up at his hopeful stare. She wanted to refuse him, but she had no logical reason to. It wasn’t as though she was spoken for, and time was ticking for her if she were to assume the natural roles of womanhood.
“If you can accept me, even as a sorcerer, then I’m sure we could find some time to do something, just the two of us.” She forced her tongue to form words.
“I would very much like that,” Sareem beamed. “How about tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” she repeated. He was certainly eager.
“It’s the start of the festival. Everyone will be in the streets for the events. I would love to be there with you.” Be it from nerves or excitement, he spoke faster than she had ever heard.
Vhalla’s head spun. “Tomorrow.” She tried to shake away the dizzying feeling. “Sure, tomorrow.”
“If you’re up to it,” he said suddenly. “I know of your complications right now.”
“It’s fine.” Vhalla was eager to show him the door.
“Excellent. I’ll stop by in the morning.” He paused in the doorframe. “Are you sure you’re well? I could stay tonight.”
“I will be fine,” Vhalla said firmly, allowing the comment to pass as genuine concern.
“All right.” He placed a hand at the top of her neck and kissed her forehead. Vhalla tried to smile nicely. “Take care, dear Vhalla,” he said gently. “I will dream of you.” With that he departed.
Vhalla stood in a daze for a long time, trying to take in everything that happened. Sareem had kissed her. It had to go up on her not-so-short list of the most impossible things to have happened to her lately. She had also agreed to a date of some variety. Vhalla rubbed her eyes. This will all work out, she told herself.
As she lay in bed, Vhalla gave herself to the darkness. I will dream of you, Sareem had said. Vhalla wasn’t sure what she would dream about. But were it to be anyone in the whole world, something told her that person would not be Sareem.
Vhalla woke the next day and again felt exhausted first thing in the morning. She had a suspicion that it was not entirely from the previous day’s magical exertion. Rolling into a ball, Vhalla did not even try to bite back a groan. She had actually agreed to a date of sorts with Sareem. Sareem! But what else was she to do when he kissed her?
Staring at the ceiling was no more interesting than staring at the wall. Stone and more stone, she existed in her small, insignificant little box. Vhalla took a slow breath—it was suffocating. Her world was nothing, and she was nothing in it.
A strange feeling surged in the tips of her fingers, like a beat of her heart. There was one place she wasn’t insignificant, one place were the rooms were not tiny for even someone of her rank.
The Tower.
The thought was a breath of fresh air. Suddenly, the shutter over her window slit threw back and let in the crisp autumn breeze.
Startled by the sound, she was up and gripping the window sill in a heartbeat, staring out into the vast expanse that was the Empire’s capital. Timidly, she extended a hand into the sunlight. With a pulse of magic from core to fingertip she felt the wind respond to her command, slipping around her open palm.
Vhalla stared in awe. The wind bent to her will. She spun in place, starting for the door. She had to find Aldrik and tell him. This was not little pockets of air she created to push or levitate things. This was the very wind. There had to be something new they could try, something he would teach her. Vhalla grinned like a fool, the expression on his face when she told him would be worth an artist’s rendering.