Vi paused, closing her eyes. She summoned the symbol in her mind, drawing every line with precision. When she opened them again, her hands continued to move through her hair, carefully weaving braids.
“Calt.”
She repeated the process, summoning a new symbol to her mind. Taavin had stressed how summoning the glyphs needed to be second nature. Not only did she need to know them as they appeared in her book. But she needed to know how they changed, slightly, to adapt to her own internal voice—that was where mastery came from. Or so he claimed.
“Mysst,” Taavin said from over her shoulder.
Vi paused, watching as circles formed and lines intersected them behind her eyelids.Mysst, to craft.
“That one you’ll find useful…” Her eyes flicked up, looking at him in the mirror. He hovered in his otherworldly way, not quite solid, not quite ghostly, right at the edge of her closet. “We should focus there more. You can use it to make shields and weapons of light. Now that you have a better handle onjuth,it’s a logical progression.”
“In theory,” she corrected for him. Taavin arched his eyebrows. “I have a better handle onjuthin theory. We haven’t been able to do much practice…”
“Yes, well, you said you’d find a training ground for that soon.”
“I’m trying,” Vi mumbled, tying off a braid. Luckily he didn’t press. Vi had a suspicion that Taavin didn’t doubt how hard it was for her to concoct reasons to do anything in her structured life.
“What is it you’re getting ready for?” Taavin’s voice audibly shifted when he was no longer asking as her tutor but her friend.
“Today is the winter solstice. It’s a big holiday here in Shaldan.”
“What do you do?” He walked over to her side.
“It starts with a ritual to Yargen at dawn… then merriment—singing, dancing, performances, shopping—until the final ritual of the day at dusk.”
“That sounds like heaven.” Taavin’s eyes fluttered closed as he spoke.
Vi’s hands stilled, falling from her hair. She turned to look at him. The room was dim, a few candles her only light to see by. He radiated light that couldn’t seem to touch her world. It didn’t reflect off her mirror or the shine of her wooden walls.
It was as though he only existed in her mind.
“Do you like to dance?” he asked, opening his eyes again.
Vi looked quickly back to her mirror, pretending she hadn’t been inspecting him in his moment of thoughtful longing. “I like it well enough, I suppose.”
“Is it difficult?”
“You don’t know how?” She turned back to him, surprised.
“I’ve never had a partner.”
“You don’t need a partner to dance.” Vi laughed softly. “You can do it alone.”
“No one has ever taught me.” He shrugged.
“You’ve never felt so merry at the sound of music that your feet just moved on their own?” She was hardly one to talk. Vi was not one to be swept away by a beat. But it had happened once or twice.
“I have not had many reasons—until lately—to feel merry, Vi.”
Until lately.The words stuck with her, shining like the light that surrounded him. Vi swallowed, facing him. They talked so much now, but it felt like even more was going unsaid. There was no logical explanation for the feeling, but it put a lump in her throat.
“Perhaps I can teach you some time?”
The tiniest of smiles crossed his mouth. His eyes were soft, tender almost. A welcome change from the hard-as-gemstones man she’d first met.
“I’d like that.” There was a soft knock on her bedroom door. Vi looked between Taavin and the source of the noise. “You should go.”
She should. But all she wanted to do was stay and teach a man made of light how to dance.
