Chapter Two
Chevelle
I was usually a late sleeper, but the next morning I was out of the house early. I wanted to get away before I had to face Fannie in the middle of her wine hangover, and I knew Junnie could tell me if Evelyn had turned the town or Council against me.
I rushed up the path and through the village gate, keeping my head down. No one generally went out of their way to speak to me, but I didn’t want to take any chances. The other elves didn’t have much use for one who wasn’t able to contribute. My lack of magic and skill had put me far from their minds. Except in the case of Evelyn, who sought to raise herself by lowering me, but always with such a thick coating of sweetness. And it didn’t help that I couldn’t pull off the polish or cheer of the other elves.
I slipped around the village and through Junnie’s back yard, darting past a trellis toward the door. As I ducked under the hanging ivy, I caught my foot on a vine and stumbled forward, cursing as I nearly ran into a boulder.
A boulder wearing a shirt.
Gradually, my head tilted upward, and I blew my too-long bangs aside to peer up first at a strong chin, stern mouth, and then the darkest, deepest sapphire eyes I’d ever seen. Sure, lots of elves had blue eyes, but bright and shimmery. These were of the deepest blue. They must appear black in the shadows.
The thought made me flush. I was staring into someone’s eyes.
But as quickly as I had come upon him, he was gone. He turned from me without a word and disappeared in a few long strides. I watched him go. Short dark hair, dark eyes, and a large, strong build. He certainly wasn’t from this clan.
Junnie cleared her throat. “Freya?”
I hadn’t realized she was watching me from the open door. I flushed again. “Who…” I trailed off.
“You needn’t bother yourself with him.” She could see I would. “Chevelle Vattier. He’s from a northern clan. He’ll be here only a short while. Council business.”
That brought me back to my mission. “Fannie said there was some trouble with Evelyn?” I asked.
“Yes.” There was something in her tone I didn’t recognize. “She’s fine now.”
“I was… yesterday, I saw her.”
“Yes.” She half-smiled. “Don’t worry yourself, Freylinda. Come now, let’s study.”
I hesitated. Evelyn had mentioned me, but not accusingly? Surely Junnie would have more to say. She placed a gentle hand on my shoulder and led me in. “What shall we do today?”
I went back over our conversation, trying to find some meaning. Inspiration, or maybe distraction, hit me as I recalled the dark-headed stranger. “Lineages.”
Junnie raised an eyebrow as I sped to the study, but I’d worry about Evelyn later. This was my chance to find out about this Chevelle Vattier.
After a dozen or so volumes, my determination began to falter. There were so many lineages, but I needed something on the northern clans, something on Vattier, and Junnie didn’t have that. I’d need a library, maybe even the Council library. I shivered; I definitely wasn’t sure about that. Even if I worked up the nerve to sneak in, I didn’t have the magic to search documents to quickly find what I was after like the Council members did. I would have to stick to the village library.
I made a short excuse to Junnie and headed out the door and around back. After I rounded a few houses, I cut back toward the village center. I wasn’t doing anything wrong, but I didn’t want to flaunt it. I had no good reason for researching Chevelle Vattier, except I had been thinking about him all day.
You just met him this morning. Not even met. Stared at.
Heat crept into my cheeks for no good reason, and I picked up my pace to the old tree that housed the library. I knew my shoulders were drawn in and I was glancing around too often, but I couldn’t seem to help it. It felt illicit. Twice I imagined a set of dark eyes on me, a pricking sensation running over my spine.
I was going to have to pull myself together. I was being ridiculous. At this rate, I’d be fawning and flipping my hair like Evelyn by sundown.
When I finally walked into the library, I remembered why I didn’t go there to study lineages. There must have been a thousand volumes and tenfold more scrolls in the main level alone. And I had no magic to lead me in the right direction. I went to the section which would most likely house the desired information, and then closed my eyes and concentrated. Maybe it wouldn’t work, but I could try. I wasn’t sure I felt anything, but after a few minutes I imagined my right hand might have tingled a little. I grabbed a close volume and leafed through it.
It was a legacy of the Viridian Forest clan. I pulled another volume down. A diary of Momar the Ancient. I sighed. This was going to be like trapping a greased pixie.
I sat for hours exploring the early texts, stories of the river clans and their battles with the Imps of Long Forgotten, firsthand accounts of the Trials of Istanna, and the long lineages of the eldest families. A whisper roused me from my studies and I realized it was late, so I decided to give up and start again the next day. Rising unsteadily, I heard the whisper again. But it wasn’t a whisper—it was the wind.
I glanced backward. Paper fell to scatter on the floor. I surveyed the library, but it was practically empty. Someone on a higher level must have knocked the pages down. I bent over and read the closest document. It was an account from the northern clans. Despite my disbelief, I somehow managed to act quickly, stashing the papers in my shirt before attempting a casual exit to read them at home.
I made it out of the library and almost to the gate when I noticed a dark figure behind Virden Day’s tree. It was Chevelle. He was speaking with Virden when he turned his head slowly toward me… and I was staring into his eyes again.
Oh, give me a break; he’s halfway across the village from you.
But I was staring. Despite my resolve, color rose to my cheeks once more as I turned away. I couldn’t understand why he was affecting me this way. The pages stuffed in my shirt felt like fire against my skin. I quickened my pace, caught my toe on a root, and stumbled. As soon as I righted myself, I wasn’t able to stop myself from peeking back to see if he had noticed, but he was gone. I didn’t know if I was relieved.
My mind went over the encounter again as I made my way home. Did he always wear such a stern expression? Why was he looking at me so intensely? But I had my answer: Because you keep staring at him, fool.
It seemed to me Fannie always knew when I didn’t want to be bothered and went out of her way to ensure I was. I quietly entered the house, hoping to slip right into my room, but there she was, smack in the center of the sitting area, drunk as a two-day jamboree. She stopped me on my way through and forced me to sit, her audience. I watched her as she rambled. She had the same dull blonde hair and muddy-brown eyes as me, though my eyes were specked with green. After a long evening ducking her verbal jabs and listening to her theories on the Council’s secret conspiracies, I finally made it to my room.
A flick of my fingers and light flooded the tiny space. I took a quick inventory: the seal on my wardrobe was intact, my drawings were still scattered across the floor, and the stash of cheese remained on the table beside my bed. My mother’s pendant hung from a woven leather chain above my pillow, shooting refracted beams across the bed, and I smiled as I sat beneath it.
Scanning the pages I’d brought home from the library, I tried to find some order. I hadn’t even considered there might be missing pages, but I sorted what I had as best I could onto the worn comforter. I sat rigid while reading through, unable to fathom why it had me so anxious.
The first pages contained a detailed description of the writer, including his lineages and how he’d come upon the information. He was apparently a record-keeper for Grand Council and was responsible for copying scrolls and adding new information for each of the northern clans from their various local libraries.
Some of the information was sketchy: gossip from the neighboring fairy guild about strange activities and reports fr
om travelers about deserted villages. Or maybe not deserted. One description seemed to imply the village was empty not only of elves, but all evidence it had ever been inhabited. There were maps of the mountains and forests, showing each village and town. Curved lines of azure cut through the page, rivers and streams, and I had a pang of regret for not studying maps with Junnie.
The next pages were a copy of the record-keeper’s report to Grand Council about his findings. And his conclusion. There were definitely missing pages here, but something dreadful had happened for certain. His official report should have been factual and serious, but the description was loaded with fear. Even his script became shaky as it reached the final word… Extinction. All the northern clans were gone, according to his account. Something had wiped out an entire region.
The last pages were lists of clan members in order of family names. There must have been thousands, but still pages were missing… F… G… L… N… V…
As I reached the end, I took a deep breath. I had gotten so involved in the terrified man’s story and page after page of family names, I had forgotten why I was reading in the first place. I sighed. Of course, the pages with the V names were missing.
I felt a stab of guilt for the selfishness of the thought while looking over such loss, but I waved it away and tucked the pages under my mattress. Lying back on the bed as I looked up at my mother’s pendant, I closed my eyes, trying to remember…
I could see her face. Her straight nose, her gentle smile. Her long hair waved around her shoulders, stray locks caught by the wind. She wore a white dress with bell sleeves and a low-cut neck. Her pendant hung there. It started to refract light, but there was only darkness around my vision of her. The wind picked up and her dark hair began to whip back and away from her face. She was smiling, glorious now, her arms outstretched. The pendant started to glow and the darkness cracked. The wind was howling. I could barely see. Or maybe something was covering my face. When I screamed the sound was lost. I tried again, but suddenly I was mute. Blind, mute and still. And yet I knew everyone was dying. Running and screaming and dying.
I jerked upright in bed, gasping. My ears were ringing. There was something wet on my face. Tears? No, blood. My nose was bleeding.
It took a moment to get my bearings. My bed sheets were a tangle and my clothes were disheveled. It must have been a dream. I had fallen asleep looking at my mother’s pendant, trying to remember her, and somehow combined it with the disaster I had read of the northern clans. It was only a dream.
Shaken, I sat up, struggling to collect myself. I reached up to remove the pendant from the hook and squeezed it tight in my fist. It felt good, like a connection, and I slid the leather chain over my head, pulling the pendant down to rest on my chest. It felt right there and I knew I should have been wearing it all along.
As I let go, I realized I’d gotten blood on my hands, so I headed to the hall and poured water from the pitcher into a ceramic basin. Staring into the mirror was not my favorite pastime. It mostly made my head hurt. But I had to clean the blood from my face and straighten the nest of hair on my head.
When I leaned forward, a flash caught my eye. For a moment I thought the pendant was reflecting light from somewhere in the dark hallway, but my brain must have been still muddled from sleep. I examined the stone closer and saw blood had gotten smudged there as well, so I rinsed it clean.
I lingered there, clutching it tight in my hand. It was a comfort to hold. It seemed to warm something deep within me. I vowed to keep it on as I shook away a thought from the dream coming back to me and headed for the door.
It was a gloomy day and I didn’t miss having to squint away the bright sunlight. Early as it was, I decided to take the long way to town, meandering through the fields and thinking of all that had passed in the last days, until I reached a patch of weeds that reminded me of Evelyn’s taunting. I felt a momentary spasm in the pit of my stomach at the thought of her choking. And then I remembered growing the weeds in the garden and I was suddenly in a rush to get to Junnie’s.
I rapped our special knock, and in a heartbeat, Junnie was opening the door. “Morning, Freylina. Early start today?”
My voice was determined. “Yes, I want to practice growing.”
She glanced at the pendant against my chest. She was silent for a moment as she looked into my eyes, almost searching. She was probably worried I was sad or missing my mother. “Not today. It seems I have business with the Council this morning.” Her mouth turned down in a grimace.
“Oh.” All right, it wasn’t like I didn’t have plenty to do. I’d just head to the library and try to find the missing pages to the northern clan documents. “Well, I’ll see you then.” I smiled at her and headed around back again to cut through the village.
I took my time to allow her to make her way to the Council building. As my feet scuffed along the path, I heard angry whispers and glanced up to find their source. Virden Day was leaning toward a dark figure, wearing a harsh expression and pointing out fingers on his other hand. Counting reasons for his argument?
The figure turned his head as if scanning for an audience. He found one—me. As his eyes hit mine, I had the feeling I was intruding, that I should look away, but something kept me staring.
It was him again. Chevelle Vattier. I swallowed hard and forced myself to continue walking, this time determined not to trip. Following the path as it wound closer to them, I became excruciatingly aware it was going to split, heading to either the gate or to the library. I hadn’t decided how to make my escape when Chevelle turned back toward Virden and spoke something low, cutting the conversation off. Virden shot me one quick look and stormed into his tree.
Chevelle remained standing where he was, his back to me. I had to decide. Walk within feet of him going to the library to research him or run home and hide. My stomach churned. It was ridiculous. I took a deep breath and kept walking, approaching the split.
He turned to me, scarcely a few feet away. “Good morning.” He nodded as he spoke, his voice as smooth as velvet.
I managed to snap my slack jaw shut at the same moment I realized I had angled my body toward him when he’d addressed me. I mentally cursed, but I could recover this; I would just keep going in the same direction as if I were on my way to town, because I was on my way to town. There was no need for him to know it was to research someone associated with the Council. Someone like him.
I tried to respond to his greeting, but felt choked and instead only nodded back, my mouth tight as I endeavored to grin with a now clenched jaw. I groaned internally, keeping on the path, not daring to look back in case he was behind me. I was convinced he was. He wouldn’t be taking the back way to Junnie’s as I had come, and he wouldn’t be leaving the village without a pack; he was likely going to a Council meeting. Yes, he was certainly right behind me, following me into town.
Somehow I made it to the library without tripping or looking back, though I was nearly overcome with the temptation to turn at the door to see him one more time.
The library steps curled around the interior of the tree, shelves cut into every space above and below, tables and racks and patrons scattered about the remaining areas. I found a dark, empty corner on the third level and relaxed onto a seat, leaning against the inside wall of the old tree and taking in the scent of ancient paper and binding. After a momentary pause to blot out the latest incident of poor self-control, I decided to attempt to locate the missing pages by magic. I had, after all, succeeded in growing only days ago. I concentrated as hard as I could and, though nothing flitted out of the shelves and onto my desk, I had a strong feeling I knew where the documents were.
It also could have been that I knew where they had fallen from the day before. Regardless, I made my way over and took a few volumes and scrolls back to my secluded table. I was able to find several documents on the northern clans and even one of the missing pages of names—L.
I had spread them out on the table and was studiously exami
ning them when a shadow crossed my desk. I realized someone was standing there and distractedly glanced up to see who.
My instinct to breathe deserted me.
It was Chevelle Vattier.