I run my fingers over the fabric. “Yes. It’s beautiful.”
Emerin haggles with the merchant, and after a moment, her persistence pays off, and she secures the brocade for a bargain with a triumphant smile.
The merchant, a man with lines of laughter etched deep into his skin, folds the fabric with care and hands it to her.
“Let’s go,” she says, tucking the brocade under her arm.
We weave our way through the market, dodging elbows and sidestepping errant children playing between stalls. Then, Emerin veers off the main thoroughfare and down an alley I’ve never set foot in. Narrower and cooler than the market street, it offers a reprieve from the sun’s relentless gaze. The sounds of the city grow fainter as we delve deeper into this hidden vein of Bakva.
“Where are we going?” I ask, my curiosity piqued by the unfamiliar surroundings.
“There’s someone I want you to meet,” Emerin says, her voice filled with excitement as she guides me around a huge dip in the street, careful to avoid the uneven cobblestones.
“Who?”
“You’ll see,” is all she says, before pressing on, her long, wavy copper hair swaying with each step she takes.
The alley twists and turns like a serpent winding through dry grass. Patches of sky peek through gaps between leaning buildings, the tall structures seeming to converse in whispers above our heads.
Eventually, her sure steps lead us to a stone cottage tucked between two bigger buildings. Vines crawl up the weathered walls, and a rounded arch frames the wooden door.
Emerin steps up and knocks. After a few moments, the door swings open, and a young man stands on the threshold. A grin spreads across his handsome face when he sees us, and he eagerly waves us inside.
“Come in. Come in,” he says.
I glance at Emerin, but she just smiles and walks into the cottage. After a moment, I follow her inside and look around. Wooden beams stretch across the ceiling, solid and dark against the whitewashed walls. A table, scarred from summers of use, sits in the center of the room, surrounded by chairs that invite long conversations over cups of steaming tea. In one corner, shelves overflow with books and scrolls, some leather-bound, others simply tied with string.
I turn my attention to the young man next. His hair is a warm blend of russet and gold, and his eyes remind me of polished amber. He meets my gaze with a smile that is both welcoming and a touch shy.
“This is Corvin,” Emerin says as she grins at the man. “He’s an old friend.”
He bows, offering me the respect my rank demands. “It’s an honor to meet you, Lady Annora.”
“Hello,” I say warmly.
They share a brief look that speaks volumes. It’s clear there’s more between them than she has mentioned. Perhaps even more than they’ve admitted to each other out loud.
“Corvin helps procure rare books for me,” Emerin explains, her eyes sparking with excitement as she picks up one such tome from the shelf and cradles it in her arms like a treasured possession. The leather-bound volume appears ancient, its spine cracked and pages yellowed with age. “He has access to many private libraries.”
Emerin has always shared my love of reading. It warms my heart to know she has found a friend who not only understands but actively supports her passion.
She holds out the book to me. “I found this one for you.”
My brow raises as I take the book from her and examine the worn leather cover and trace the embossed title with my fingertip.Understanding Silver Magic.
Nerves knot in my throat as I glance up at Emerin, catching the gentle curve of her smile.
“I read enough of the book to know that there is quite a bit of information about silver magic that requires runes in there,” she says. “You don’t have to wait for our mother to give you a rune. You just need to know what kind to use.”
“Oh, Em.” Her thoughtfulness never ceases to amaze me. “That would be fantastic.”
With an elegant sweep of her long gown, Emerin turns toward the table. “Now, let’s sit and enjoy some tea. Corvin makes an excellent chamomile tea.”
I follow Emerin’s lead and settle into the chair opposite her, the book nestled securely against my lap. I can’t bring myself to set it down, not even for a moment. Not when it might hold the answers I’ve been seeking about my silver magic.
As Corvin strides to a small stove tucked in the corner, I allow my fingers to caress the spine of the book. Maybe, just maybe, if I could unravel the secrets held within these pages, I could find a way to learn about my silver magic. Then, I could know myself in ways I have never understood it before.
Since Grandfather died, I have tried to make my own decisions, and I have tried to discover things I didn’t know about myself.
