We Were Right About Magic

Odelia {lgbtq+} [in progress]

Her voice rang like delicate silver bells on a crisp winter's morning, where lovers embraced to keep warm. I could only think that my ears deceived me.

"Me?" I asked, unsure of myself.

She gave me a subtle nod and a budding smile. "Yes, you. I shall have you as my escort to the Yule ball."

I would've never expected her to choose me. There were lords and men of fine standing littering the room, all expressing their interest in her hand. Then there was me. A humble tailor from the commons. I shouldn't have even been there, but the event was open to any suitors and my dull-witted assistant wouldn't take no for an answer.

The young aristocrat's father had grown weary of her failure to establish any sort of romantic connections, despite her overwhelming popularity—or at least, that's what the rumors had said. However, rumors were fickle things by nature, in my opinion.

My heart wasn't so elated that I didn't catch the thick disapproval that coated the room. Some were even so bold as to gasp at her choice. Irritated eyes pierced through me at every turn. I did my best to keep focused ahead on Madam Rosalind. After all, she was the only important one in the place as far as I was concerned.

"W-why me?" I stammered. My cowardice was met with many whispered remarks and clicking of tongues. However, she never wavered. Her warm eyes melted through me, even in that frigid season.

"Roderick, was it? We will have more than enough time to learn of each other during the ball," she said with a honeyed smile.

A flame lit in my stomach as I heard my name dance from her lips.

"Yes, Madam. I will eagerly await the end of the week." My mouth was so dry I was surprised I was able to produce a comprehensible sentence.

The aristocrat dismissed the could-have-been suitors and, with steps as delicate as her voice, she made her leave. I watched—awestruck.

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"I can't believe Madam Rosalind chose you!" my assistant gushed. "Who would've ever guessed it? Oh, the gods are good!"

"And cruel," I added. "I feel this would be a great way to make a mockery of me."

"Oh hush!" She slapped my shoulder. "You're not important enough for anybody to want to do that. Think of the business it will bring to the shop. The man who seduced the woman who refused romance for so long! People all across Wendell will know your name."

I tried to fight the heat that threatened to rise in my cheeks. "I don't care for such things, Amala."

"Well, you should," the woman chaffed. "Wendell's hottest designer, Roderick Vogt... and his assistant, Amala Engelbert!"

The shop was as empty as ever and littered with fabric and tape measures. Amala delicately needled away at a lilac gown. She was always busy and an expert multitasker. One of the many reasons I hired her as my assistant. We got on like old siblings, bickering included.

"Please take this seriously," I moaned, holding a hand to my forehead. "I need to know what to do, what to wear. I don't even know where to start. My mind has been spiraling since noon."

"Don't you worry," Amala said with a smile. "I've got it all under control."

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to be continued.