Page 36 of Cursed Dreams
Vaelith.
He stood at the far end of the tavern, half-shadowed, watching her with that unreadable, bored-yet-not-bored expression of his.
Their eyes locked.
The room around her blurred, the music, the laughter, the heat of the tavern, all of it faded into the background.
Her stomach flipped, her pulse skipping against her throat.
Of all the people in this city, of all the people in this room, why was he here, why was he staring at her like that? And why, despite the alcohol buzzing in her veins, did she suddenly feel sober under the weight of his gaze?
Thalia stumbled back to their table, her breath still uneven as she plopped into her chair, fingers tightening around her cup. Her mind whirred, struggling to process the weight of Vaelith’s stare. She hadn’t seen him since arriving at the temple, not once. Hadn’t even thought of him all that much, well, perhaps in passing, but that didn’t count.
Yet, there he was, standing in a seedy backstreet tavern, staring at her like she was something he intended to consume.
"Alright," Marand plopped down beside her, sharp-eyed despite the amount of mead she’d consumed. "What just happened?"
"Nothing," Thalia said quickly, too quickly.
Marand arched a brow, clearly not buying it. "Liar."
Nyla maneuverer her dance partner closer to their table.
Thalia sighed, rubbing her temples. "It’s just…" she hesitated, looking between them before exhaling and giving in. "I saw Vaelith."
That got both Nyla and Marand’s attention. Nyla, who had been deep in conversation with her dance partner, turned in interest.
Cellen, who had just returned to the table, sliding in like he owned the place, blinked in confusion. "Who?"
"Vaelith," Marand repeated, her voice dropping slightly.
Cellen’s brow furrowed before recognition dawned. "Ahh, the scowling Lord Commander himself. And here I was, thinking we were having a good night."
Thalia groaned, tipping back the last of her drink. "I don’t understand him, or me or ... I don’t know."
"Oh?" Nyla leaned in, propping her chin on her hand. "Explain."
Thalia hesitated for only a moment before the alcohol loosened her tongue. "Back before I left for the temple, there was my magic assessment. He was there, to test my ability, when he did. it hurt, it felt like he was pulling something from me “ Nyla's brow creased “ What do you mean pulling something from you “ “ It’s hard to explain it was like he was trying to reach something deeper inside me, like my well of magic wasn’t quite what he expected and after wards he looked at me like he was surprised, ever since I've been left feeling like there’s something wrong with me, you've all seen how my magic is a white light yet most healers are golden “ she sighed
“Tell me I'm mad please, tell me your assessment was the same “she looked expectantly to Cellen and Nyla who both shared a sad expression, Thalias heart dipped.
“I'm sorry Thalia but mine wasn't like that, I’m sure there is nothing wrong with your magic” Nyla said with a sympathetic tone “You wouldn't have been accepted to train in the temple if there was “Thalia knew she was trying to be reassuring but it wasn't working.
“And now he’s sitting over there and it’s all so confusing !!“she barked bitterly
“Confusing how ?” Cellen asked surprisingly serious for once.
Thalia waved a hand. "Hot and cold. One moment, he’s distant and unreadable, the next, he’s… looking at me like that."
"Like what?" Marand prompted.
"Like I’m prey."
Silence settled over the table for a beat. Then—
Cellen slammed his cup down. "Right. This calls for stronger drinks."
Thalia barely had time to protest before he was shoving a small, dark purple drink into her hands. "Down it," he ordered. "For courage."
