“Oh wow.” Sephimara’s voice carried a tone I’d never heard before. No pretense, no calculation, just pure emotion.
I opened my eyes to view the sea of little rose-colored sparkles I’d created, dancing along the branch, bursting into tiny pops of light at the tips. “Nice, isn’t it? Magic doesn’t exactly flow with the wood’s grain, but it’s close.”
“It is… truly beautiful.” In the dim light, sparkles shimmered in her eyes, as if she were on the verge of tears.
I stepped in closer behind her, chest just a handsbreadth from her back, arms wide as I guided the flow of magic.
The colored sparkles shifted to oranges and ambers.
“The flow will shift slightly as the wood dries, so for something like yesterday’s project, green wood like this isn’t ideal.” I yearned to close my arms around her shoulders. To embrace her from behind. To hold her as if for a dance. Why did it feel right? She’d said nothing to me to encourage it. Yet beneath that exterior was a warmth so enticing.
The sparkles dimmed.
I redirected the flow. Concentrating on the magic, on my posture, on my words. We weren’t touching, yet I felt so close to her. We weren’t touching, yet we were in tune as if we were.
What was I saying? “Green wood. It’s difficult to predict the flow when it dries, but it’s an interesting exercise.”
“It is beyond fascinating.” As she followed a line ofsparkles along the crook of a twig with her index finger, my own hand trailed hers, as if pulled along by a marionette string.
I may not be beautiful, but creating something beautiful, something that so captivated her, the feeling was…
The sparkles dimmed as I pulled back again. “Let’s place a gem so you can see what that looks like.” I peeked into the satchel she carried her tools in, shoving an old notebook to the side as I—
“What are you doing!” Her voice cracked through the air, sharp as a whip.
I froze. “Your chisel. I was just going to—”
She stormed at me like a charging basilisk. “I did not give you permission to go snooping through my possessions!”
The sparkling lights died as I leaped half a step back, hands up, as if under arrest. “I just wanted to… I’m sorry. I wanted to…” My face tingled, like that shock when plunging into icy water. When your lungs just stop working.
She snapped the satchel shut and clasped it to her chest.
I stared in silence, unable to think what blunder I’d made. I’d really messed something up. But what? I stepped to the windows to raise the blinds. All I could do is say I was sorry.
“I thought it was just your tool bag. I didn’t know that there was something private…”
She gazed back at me, eyes on the verge of tears. “It is. And there is not. And…” She huffed. Paused a few more seconds. Continued. “Individuals at the palace have not been especially respectful of certain possessions of mine. I… was on edge and overreacted. My apologies, Mister Thistlewood.”
That brief vulnerability faded. No. It was still there. But the fortifications were back up.
I fought the urge to throw myself at her, to wrap my arms around her, to beg her to tell me what was going on. I knew she wanted it too. Or did I just want her to want it? I forced the warm feelings out of me like an unwanted flow of magic, extending my hands down, fingers stretched straight to form the opposite of fists. Calm. Composed. Polite.
“It is fine. But if I ever give you reason to doubt my intentions—”
“You have not. You never have.” Her words came sharp and quick. “Not since that first day when you insisted on following me into…” She sniffed. “You really should have stayed away, Mister Thistlewood.”
She needed a warm embrace so badly. Ifelt it.“Apparently so should you.”
“Perhaps I should have.” She straightened her posture. “I am afraid I have rather ruined your carefully orchestrated demonstration.”
As we continued the rest of the exercise, my body’s residual numb shock flowed out, replaced by that nasty fatigue you feel after exercising too long. I stayed awayfrom her bags. I stood just that little bit further from her. Her words were calm, cool, and entirely focused on the exercise.
“Doesn’t your cafeteria close soon?” She put her tools away.
“Quarter of an hour ago.” I swept bark and wood shavings off the crafting table. “I thought it was important to finish. I’m not really hungry anyway.”
She frowned at me. “I really am sorry for the overreaction. You had no way of knowing.”
