Page 4 of Enchantment of Silver and Sea
I stared through the glass doors at the courtyard and the path we had just walked. I scanned the faces of the people passing through the doors, headed to their work assignments.
Some were waving as they parted ways. Others were walking by themselves, a few at a quick pace that told me they were running late. No one was looking at me.
“Is everything okay?” Brielle asked, and it took me a second to process that she was still standing there.
“Oh, yeah, sorry,” I said with a dismissive wave of my hand.
“Are you sure? You looked a little pale earlier. When we first met up, I mean.”
Her hazel eyes were full of concern as she searched my face. All the lingering humor and cheer from our conversation about Zander was gone, replaced with something more serious.
I couldn’t remember the last time she had looked at me that earnestly. As if for once, her walls were truly down, and she was ready to tackle whatever I threw at her.
Somewhere far away, a little voice told me that I didn’t deserve a friend like her.
“I didn’t sleep well for some reason. But I’m fine. I’ll probably just take a long nap after work.” I instantly hated myself for the lie. But I hoped she would accept it and not push any further.
She stared at me for a few seconds more.
“Got it,” she said finally, and a wave of guilt and relief washed over me. “Someone was being super noisy on my floor last night, so I can relate. See you at lunch!”
“See you at lunch,” I echoed.
She hurried off to the kitchen, and I headed for the Library.
This time, although I didn’t turn around, I was certain that someone’s eyes were boring holes in my back as I walked away.
This was my happy place.
Breathing in that comforting scent of paper. Feeling the rays of sunshine gently warm my skin as they poured through the windows on the sixth floor. Knowing that with only a handful of us assigned to the Library, I was probably the only person even on this floor at the moment. If there was anywhere that felt like home to me, this was surely it.
The Library was safe. It was silent. It existed outside of the day-to-day, outside of the Knowledge Center and Cyllene. It existed outside of the nightmares that plagued me, and the events that caused them.
As I sat tucked into an overstuffed armchair, alternately leafing through the stack of books on the wooden end table beside me and gazing at the view of the courtyard below, I wished for the millionth time that I could always be here.
It was normal in Cyllene for The Council to choose your work assignment for you. On a citizen’s thirteenth birthday, they were told where their assignment would be, and what specifically they would be doing within that department. However, The Council was proud of the fact that in this process, they “took each individual’s interests and strengths into consideration.” Hopefully, a person would be pleased with their assignment, considering they would be spending most every day of their life there.
My situation was rare in that I not only began my work assignment at ten years old, but also got to choose where I worked. The understanding was that I would be provided with work that I found meaningful and the basic necessities I needed to survive, as long as I kept my mouth shut about what happened to Irene and to our home.
The story told to our fellow citizens was that Irene had tragically perished in a grease fire that incinerated our home. An unfortunate accident.
Except in a Post-Awakening world where magic was rampant outside the safety of Cyllene’s walls, you could never be too careful. Instead of pitying the orphaned girl who had lost her only remaining relative, the people of Cyllene saw two Enforcer parents killed years ago in the line of duty, and an Enforcer sister lost in a freak accident, and drew their own conclusions.
My personal favorite rumor was—that an enchantress cursed our family during one of my parents’ team’s supply runs outside the walls, and we were all doomed to die tragically.
I knew the truth of Irene’s death. But both things could be true. Maybe our familywascursed.
Rubbing my eyes as though I could physically rub the exhaustion right out of them, I examined the thick book in my hand. A collection of crumpled notes, handwritten musings, and pencil sketches that together made a guide to the habits of marsh wolves. As I skimmed each line, my attention occasionally catching on the drawings of the scaly beasts, I wondered for probably the millionth time what Pre-Awakening people would think of our attempts at books. In comparison to the hundred-year-old hardcover reference guide on normal, Pre-Awakening wolves that I was using for comparison…well, I could compare the two species of wolves all I wanted, but there was no comparison between the books.
After I finished skimming through the guide, I jotted down a few notes in my spiral notebook and moved on to the next one.My assignment today was to gather information on the mating habits of marsh wolves, and I was relishing it.
The only thing better than a day spent reading was a day spent reading about magic.
As my eyes flitted over page after page on the wolves, I questioned if this project was in preparation for one of the Enforcers’ supply runs. It only made sense that they would request this research from the Library because they were venturing beyond the walls and were concerned about a potential marsh wolf encounter.
Just like that, the thought had those dreaded connections snapping into place. Expeditions beyond the wall. Enforcers. My parents. Irene.
A spike of dread tried to claw its way from my stomach into my throat.
