This stranger did not look at Alethea the way most men looked at her. She was puzzled by it – the mix of what looked like surprise (or confusion?) and hesitance – and studied his face a little longer than was strictly proper. Perhaps, in his world, she would not have been considered beautiful. The idea was a bit staggering, to one whose entire life had been framed around this single quality. It made her frightened, and also curious. She stole a glance at him as they walked.
“Your name is on everyone’s lips,” she clarified pointlessly, misreading the question in his voice. “They are grateful to you, though they seem to show it badly. Your gift is…considered very unusual, here.” The remaining onlookers ducked away, shamefaced and frightened of something he had said in a voice too quiet for her to understand. But from the squeak, it was not difficult to deduce the theme. “If you don’t mind my asking…is that how it works? Do you see how everyone will die?”
They turned a corner, strange light streaming through latticed windows, then ducked down a darker, stony hallway with a peaked wooden door at the end. This, Anapa would soon discover, led to a rose garden, which in turn, if you followed the hedges, lead out into the main courtyard. The fragrance seemed to seep through the walls.
Alethea held the door for him, smiling, then followed him out onto the manicured grass. Tall hedges framed three sides of the garden, like walls, providing some privacy from he training yard and other outdoor spaces. Alethea moved toward a stone table, then carefully removed each book from her satchel, placing them in a neat stack. Their titles ranged from accessible to hopelessly obtuse. One of them, she was sure, would prove completely useless, but the Librarian had insisted she peruse the chapter on aquatic magics, just in case. Thea supposed, at her age, that everyone feared her first foray into her powers would result in death or dismemberment.
“I only recently came into my magic, myself…I’m still learning how to control it.” Her smile turned shy as she retrieved a small mirror from the pouch and held it out in her hand, catching the light. It glinted and shimmered, then began emitting a bright, pinkish glow. Then it flashed violently, dazzling, and the mirror cracked into slivers. Thea winced, then laughed. She brushed the shards off her palm.
“Please be careful,” a low, velvety voice suggested from the nearest archway. Leto inclined her head, taking in the tower of books, and the tiny bead of blood on her fairy’s thumb, and her somber new friend. “My lord,” she greeted him delicately, ever the gentlewolf. Alethea smirked. “Leto worries too much. I am always careful," she said lightly, and winked. The wolf's expression suggested this was far from the case, but Thea didn't see it; she was occupied by retrieving a notebook and writing on a blank page about halfway through, in a neat hand, need stronger mirrors.
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