Page 7 of Trivium

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AHMINA

Ahmina’s eyes dragged over the curvature of his crossed arms as he leaned against the doorframe. His golden skin glowed and his tawny blonde hair was windblown, as if he had been out in the sun all day fighting creatures.

He probably had.

“We’re closed.” She swallowed, taking a step back. “You’ll have to come back again tomor⁠—”

“Your door is still open…” The start of a smile crept up on his lips, testing her. For a moment she was transfixed by his eyes, a kaleidoscope of chestnut, sage, and cyan as they narrowed in on her. Jarrah was home to all sorts of eye colors, but she had never seen eyes like his.

She took in the entirety of him, before forcing herself to look away. His all-black Academy uniform was a dead giveaway. But it was the extra weapons strapped to his back and thighs that told her he was the deadliest of the specialties. A Slayer.

Her heart beat wildly, still unsteady from what transpired in the garden, and she sucked in a sharp breath.

“I need a book that you have,” he demanded, more quietly this time.

The evening air snuck in through the still open door, sending a shiver down her arms. She tucked her hands behind her back to hide the tremble. She could feel the faint breeze swaying her pale golden dress just above her ankles, rooted in thin, tattered socks and scruffy leather boots. “Which book?” She tried to sound confident, but her voice came out all high pitched and squeaky. She cleared her throat.

The man stepped toward her and the door closed behind him. Click. It was only a door, but it felt like a seal of fate.

Is that how long it would take to die if he attacked her? She squeezed her eyes shut to try and wash away the image of it. No, it would take longer, she reasoned. Especially if she fought back. Wouldn’t it? Her eyes lingered on his dagger.

“I’m not here on any official Academy business,” he reassured her, as if sensing her discomfort. “Just looking for a book: The Ancient, Untold History of Magic.” His voice was deep and determined. She corralled her thoughts and searched her mind, but she had never heard of it.

“Who’s the author?”

“Audora Wilde.”

“Wilde…” She rolled the unfamiliar name over on her tongue.

“Stay here, I’ll look,” she promised, desperate to escape him. She needed to collect her thoughts and catch her breath.

It was not unusual for Defenders to crawl through the streets, patrolling for traitors, but they never entered the library.

Academy recruits were put through three years of study before graduating as a Defender and making a home in the esteemed Defender Village: a place tucked behind the Academy where no commoner could go. Students and graduate Defenders only received a few days, once or twice a year, to venture into Jarrah for personal time, usually to visit family. If Defenders were in Jarrah, they were on patrol. Even Academy students didn’t go popping into libraries to check out a book.

And only moments ago, she was face-to-face with a Soul Snatcher in the garden. She shook her head at the oddity of it all.

Soon she would be among them. She reminded herself to be confident, as if that would offer her some bravery to handle the current situation. It backfired, and her anxiety spiked.

Maybe he was in the area looking for the Soul Snatcher, she reasoned. She should say something to him, let him know so he could track it down. But the thought quickly disappeared as she passed through the shelves to the back of the library where the w’s were. Wa, Waji, Walkeria…The list went on but there was no Wilde.

Returning to the front, she found him leaning against the door, eyeing her, as if he was both completely unbothered and ready to kill at any moment. It was unsettling and intriguing all at once. Is that what she would be like once she was a Defender?

“We don’t have it.”

He glared, as if assessing her honesty. “You’re sure?”

“Yes. I know every Author in Jarrah, every book in this Library. I double checked, just in case, but no.”

“Every book?”

“Yes.”

“Impressive.”

Time stretched as they stood, staring at each other like assailants. She fidgeted with her skirt. She thought to tell him about the Soul Snatcher, but something stopped her. “Are you a Slayer?” she asked instead.