Magic Lessons 16

Raleth was in no hurry to get up. Lali had gone already, most likely to the park to practice, though worry did gnaw at the back of his mind. What if she’d run away again? She’d seemed happy, but one could never be entirely sure with women, especially young ones. It hadn’t gone exactly as he had hoped — Raleth was not quite as assured and smooth as Rathel, the tall and handsome battlemage, but still he’d taken his time and been careful. No matter what might happen between them in the future, she would always remember last night. Or he hoped she would. He remembered his own, though the circumstances were quite different. It was here in Dalaran, when he’d come to study as a young apprentice. And things happened between apprentices, inevitably as the rise of the sun and the pull of the tides. The young elf whom had invited him into the closet was much more worldly than Lali, and Raleth barely knew what was happening before it was all over. There had been others of course, mostly in those magic-hazed days in Silvermoon, but that wasn’t the same either.

She was the first of the tall, curvy, exotic kaldorei who had returned his interest. There had been others he’d pursued, most recently the cool Highborne mage who had so intrigued him. But she’d shown little interest in him other than his research into her strange book, and eventually she’d stopped returning his letters altogether. He wondered if he saw her the same way that Andarthir saw Lali; a foolish child playing at grown-up things. None of that mattered now, though. She had accepted him, fully at last, and even if she never completed her mage training, she had promised she’d stay with him.

He thought he’d work on the story he had started, but he frowned at the page he’d written so far. Why should it bother him to write those things about her now? It wasn’t as if anyone else would read it — but what if they should? He didn’t want anyone whispering rumors about her. Raleth decided he’d start the story over. It would still be romantic, but an adventure rather than the more lurid sort. An adventure story needed a villain, but Lali had already used the evil sorceror in hers. Perhaps a dragon. A blue dragon would be ideal, he thought, touching the quill to the page.

Lali, the Flower of Kalimdor, her beauty famed throughout all of Azeroth. On the blanket, Sir Pounce raised his head and gave Raleth a look. Sir Pounce was a cat. Perhaps he might have known lady cats in his time, but surely he’d never held them close while they stroked his ears. He couldn’t possibly understand. A little exaggeration was necessary for a good adventure story, anyway. He finished the next few pages, mostly describing the beautiful apprentice and her extensive wardrobe, when he finally rose and went out into the sitting room. Perhaps Lali had left him something to eat–

He felt his blood chill in his veins, the frost spreading out from his fingers to creep up his arms. On the terrace, Lali must have had her breakfast. One of the chairs was tipped over, a teacup shattered beside it. A dagger lay beside it, its edge shiny with blood. He had never prayed before, but he prayed now, to the Light, to Elune, to anyone that might listen. Let her be all right.