Chapter 26
Yin
For the first time, they don’t take me back to my room. I’m expecting them to lock me in there for the rest of the day.
They take me to some… library instead.
I pass other soldiers, but they aren’t the usual surly guards I’m used to. They appear, well, smarter. Though I’m not really confident, I think from the insignia on their uniforms that they’re officers.
There are numerous wide tables dotted through the large room, and books and scrolls line the walls, long wooden ladders reaching up to the ceiling.
“Study,” one of my guards tells me as he points me roughly in the direction of a floor-to-ceiling bookcase.
“Study?” I repeat.
“Read,” the guard says slowly as if I’m too simple to understand what that means.
I roll my eyes and walk forward.
I’m intensely aware that the officers in the room pause what they’re doing to look up at me. They don’t exactly shoot me friendly glances as I walk amongst them, rubbing my arms as I do.
I’m still sopping wet, and I trail water everywhere until some bright spark says, “she’s too wet to be in here. She could damage the scrolls. Take her to dry off.”
Just as my guards move in, I shrug my shoulders, bring my arms out wide, and force the magical heat to rise on my skin. I don’t send it surging out, burning everything in my path. I pump out enough to dry my clothes and skin.
As the last wisps of steam cascade off me, I smile at the surly officer. “Is this dry enough for you, sir?”
He looks disgusted and moves away.
I smile as he does.
The last thing I want to do right now is go back to my room – which is no doubt where my guards would have taken me to dry off.
Though my room has become my only sanctuary in this god-forsaken place, I can’t spend another full day in there. I’d go mad.
I’d far rather spend it in this library.
While Castor had his own collection of ancient scrolls, they could only teach me so much. As I stand there and stare at all these books, I can’t help but smile.
I might be trapped, but I’m still determined to make the most of this. I will learn everything I can.
Apparently, I have a lot to learn. I had no idea those fans had a limit to how much energy could be pumped into them… even though it makes total sense.
Then again, I didn’t even know something like those fans existed until yesterday. So as I look around at those books, I excitedly wonder what else I don’t know.
“Don’t get into any trouble. We’re watching you,” my guards mumble as they take up position by the door, crossing their arms and looking surly.
I smile back and walk into the room.
I try to ignore all the judgmental looks the officers give me, but it’s hard. Out in the driving rain when I practiced with the fan, I didn’t care what people thought. I’d known they were watching me, and it hadn’t stopped me at all.
Now, however, without a veil of water and the distraction of the dance to distract me, it’s not as easy to ignore them.
Up in my village, people hadn’t really liked me. Apart from Castor, I’d had few friends. The villagers were mostly distrustful of a woman who didn’t, well, act like a woman.
While the villages hadn’t liked me, they hadn’t been so damn open with their hatred. These officers, however, look as though I’m insulting them with my mere presence.
One even mutters, “women should not be allowed here.”
“You better leave if I’m making you uncomfortable,” I mutter back.
The man looks powerfully indignant and snorts as he walks away.
I laugh softly. Then almost immediately feel guilty, wondering if my little act of rebellion will make it back to Garl.
Garl.
God… what does he want? Does he intend to use me as a soldier? Train me up and let me loose on the next person he wants to intimidate?
I shiver as I think about it. Tracing my hand up my arm, I stop as I realize it’s my left one.
Damn.
Yang knows it isn’t injured. He grabbed it and checked for himself before I could jerk away.
Damn that man.
Damn him.
Even more than Garl, he makes me angry. Because, unlike Garl who isn’t pretending to be nice – Captain Yang honestly seems to think he can be my friend.
Or at least he wants me to think he’s my friend.
“He’s so see-through,” I mutter as I walk amongst the bookshelves, picking out whatever interests me. Once I’ve gathered a massive pile, I shove them onto a table and sit. Everyone else at the table promptly leaves.
As I start to leaf through the books, I get an idea.
Though they mostly cover the various details of martial combat, I start to wonder what else this library has to offer.
Specifically, whether it has anything on the Savior and her legend.
While Castor has scrolls, and of course he taught me about the story and the part I will play in it, there’s still so much I don’t know.
Whenever I asked for more information, he always told me there were scrolls in the possession of the Royal Family that told more of the story. But as we had no way to get to them, it didn’t matter.
Now, just maybe, I have a way to get to them. Hey, who knows, some of those very books could be in this room. If not those exact tomes, then other ones that could help me.
Pushing my current pile of books to the side, I start a more thorough survey of the library. I climb up the ladders, leaning confidently as I snatch up even the hardest to reach books. I also lean down on my haunches as I pluck up tomes from the dusty bottom shelves.
I search, and I search.
I start to find things. Mentions, here and there. Snippets of the story.
I even find a book dedicated to the guardians of the Savior.
That’s when I get excited. The book itself is on one of the hardest to reach shelves, but I don’t let that stop me. When I hold it in my hands, I can’t help but smile. A smile warmer and more genuine than any I have given in days.
I can do this, I suddenly think. I can use my imprisonment to my advantage.
Opening the book, I get a surge of power as my fingers track over the old, yellowed pages.
It’s written in an old dialect, but one I can read thanks to Castor’s tutelage.
Pressing my finger into the print, I scan the words, my lips crumpling in with concentration.
The guardians, I read, are chosen by destiny. Men and women ordained to train the Savior. They use their own magical skills to strengthen her own.
.…
Castor doesn’t have magic, or at least not the obvious kind. His determination and knowledge, however, are more magical than flame bursting from one’s fingertips.
I continue to read, becoming thoroughly immersed in what I’m looking at.
I shift around on the spot, then I take a step backward as I’m still reading.
Someone jostles into me, and I drop the book, watching it skid across the ground, its pages fluttering.
“Hey,” I snap as I turn.
Captain Yang.
He looks startled as he blinks quickly. “What are you doing here?”
“I was told by my eloquent guards to read,” I say, mimicking their gruff tones. “So I’m reading,” I place my hands on my hips.
I shouldn’t be sassing him, but I can’t help it.
There’s something about his face. No, about him.
I blame him. Everything is his fault.
He raises an eyebrow, then quickly shakes his head. “Study is virtuous,” he mumbles as an afterthought.
I can tell it’s not what he wanted to say – it feels like something he just blurted out. In fact, after he says it, he winces a little.
“Anyhow, please move, I need to access that ladder,” he says as he points to the ladder behind me.
“Why do you need a book? Do
es the Princess want you to recite poetry to her?” I ask, hardly thinking as I speak.
My irritation at Captain Yang gets the better of me.
“No,” Yang answers as he races up the ladder, his poise perfect. He searches the shelves, clearly looking for something.
“Why do you need a book then? Is it so you can stand on it and impress her highness with your mighty height?” I ask, laughing at my own truly dumb joke.
“No,” he answers. He huffs. “Where is that book?”
“I’ll leave you to it,” I say as I walk over to pick up my own book.
Yang jumps down from the ladder. He doesn’t climb down – he lets go, landing with hardly any weight. He doesn’t shake the bookcases, causing scrolls to come tumbling down around him. He lets go and falls like a single droplet of water, landing with just as much force.
I look at him startled, before continuing to lean down for my book.
He gets there first. He ducks in and picks it up. Turning it over, he looks at the title.
He looks right at me.
I want to say something trite and defensive, but I can’t.
Suddenly I’m terrified.
I thought it would be a smart use of my time to look up the Savior myth. Now, however, I realize it has left me exposed.
“It’s just a book,” I swallow. “It looked interesting. No, it fell from the bookcase,” I suddenly change my mind in the most obvious lie ever.
Captain Yang narrows his gaze.
“It’s just a book. It’s a… myth,” I add in a weak voice.
“Aren’t you meant to be studying combat?” he asks carefully.
I swallow again. If I’m trying to look calm, I’m not managing it. Even a blind man would be able to see how nervous and flustered I am.
“They just pointed at the books and said study. And, well, I got bored so I… looked at that book. It’s just a harmless myth,” I add quickly. “Nobody believes in the Savior anymore,” I practically whisper.
Yang nods.
I catch him staring at my left hand again. He almost looks like he wants to grab it up and inspect it once more. So I tuck it firmly behind my back. “Are we done here?” I instinctively ask.
He doesn’t answer. He dusts the jacket of the book carefully with his palm, then walks away. As he does, he stares at me from over his shoulder. In fact, he doesn’t turn around until he makes it out of the door.
I’m left… terrified.
Of course I am.
He looked suspicious.
Could he… have guessed what I am?
While Castor told me that there are few who still seriously believe in the legend of the Savior, it would take little to rekindle their belief.
Especially when coupled with my power.
I place a hand on my stomach and try to breathe. It’s hard, though. All I imagine is Captain Yang racing back to Garl and telling him what he suspects.
Feeling weak, and hating myself for it, I walk behind a row of books, finding a little nook where I can be on my own. Then I lean my back into the hard wood and close my eyes.
“You have to be more careful,” I whisper to myself. Without Castor, I’m on my own.