He was gone. It was startling that he wasn’t there, but I caught a glimpse of him—and a perfect backside in casual clothes—as he walked down the street that would lead to his house.
How had I never realized Elex harbored those feelings for me? I’d always held back what I really felt for him. At that moment, I was already grateful to the magic in the mountain. It pulled down a wall I didn’t know was there.
Without breaking into a run, which was very, very hard, I managed to get to my own apartment and slam the door. I leaned against the wood and looked around.
I could see the magiceverywherenow. Threads of light and colors danced through the air. Reaching out, I ran my finger along one small thread, and it sang for me, a crystal tone that trembled through all the threads nearby.
No one had ever described magic as alive. It was the only word I could think of that came close to capturing what I could I see.
Maybe…
Maybe, before the mountain cracked, no one had ever seen magic this way. Perhaps it hoarded the magic until the right time.
Or the right person.
I had to talk to the Temple Masters. Immediately.
Tearing through my apartment, the colors of magic faded a bit as though they were trying not to distract me. Yanking the closet doors open, I stood staring at my collection of clothes.
Gods and stars, I was boring.
Teaching tunic after teaching tunic, probably two weeks’ worth hung there. White, beige, taupe, cream, eggshell, off-white, and some variety of pale yellow. Several casual outfits were also there, in fascinating shades of grey, black, and charcoal. Two formal dresses, one in black, one in charcoal were tucked in the corner.
Was I really this terribly boring?
At the other end was the outfit I was looking for. A pale blue formal set, with a flowing skirt and modest bodice that sparkled in the light of the room.
This was the dress I had worn to every temple function.
While others went to spectacular ball after spectacular dance, each one with a new fantastic outfit, it was tradition at the temple to have just one dress. There was never any doubt who you were. Everyone knew what to wear. Everyone was expecting you to show up in that dress each time. It bordered on scandalous if someone dared to show up in something new.
A person was not a member of the temple to show off and dress up. There was always a solemn edge to all of the festivities.
The formal stature of the gown was what I needed tonight.
Glancing at the clock, I had to hurry. The Temple Masters gathered for dinner and had a small, private audience after. I could still make it.
The guards could not deny me entrance as an acolyte.
While I did walk through the streets quickly, I also took the time to think about what I was going to say, how I was going to approach those grumpy old buzzards.
Dorian would be the worst.
Oh, would Dorian be the worst, by a long shot. He was the oldest of the council, and…
Well, an asshole.
He had started pushing me to make my decision about being dedicated to the temple because he insisted I could not remain an acolyte.
Nothing in the Temple Texts said that. It was tradition for an acolyte to be dedicated to the temple or separate, but there was nothing anywhere that said I must decide. He’d badgered me for twenty years. I researched for twenty years. There was nothing. But he was the oldest and the most powerful of the council, and I had to explain that magic had called me to the mountain, and made me its servant. Far more than anything in the temple ever had.
How?
…and why me?
I dismissed the second question. There was no point in thinking about it at all. The first one—how?—was more important now.
How did I convince a council of twelve grumpy bastards—and I was including the five women in that bastard title because they were just as bad as the men—that the mountain called to me.
