Bright Flame, Deep Shadow (lesbian story)

Flick

There's a light on in Tanvik's office and the door is unlocked. I open it as quietly as I can, but the hinges squeal anyway.

He looks up in surprise when I enter, but his features quickly smooth back into a blank mask. He lays his quill down on the desk and rises in one fluid motion.

I hover by the open door, wondering if I've already fucked up too much to leg it. I don't know what I'd hoped to do here—stab the headmaster?

He stands on the other side of the room, observing me silently, the desk between us. The only light is from the lamp on his desk, and his bald head gleams in its light. I don't think I've ever really noticed how short he is—even from here, I'm looking down at him.

"Miss Domneva," he says finally. "I wondered when you would return to us." His accent is clipped, every word as stiff as his pressed shirt. I never noticed that either. This man killed my girlfriend, and would probably kill me too if he knew about us, yet I know nothing about him.

"I..." I falter, struggling to think of a reply. I feel nine years old again, when Tanvik still towered over me as he conducted the first test of my powers.

"As it happens, I was just writing up the official report of your crimes." He gestures to the paper on the desk. "I received a carrier pigeon from Grumach just an hour ago. You've saved everyone a lot of trouble by coming back. Did you have a guilty conscience?"

The thought of Bella dying in the Shadows because of him makes me brave. "I do not think I am the one who should have a guilty conscience, sir."

For a moment, I could swear Tanvik looks confused, but he recovers quickly. "You refer to your friend, Arabella Saethryth."

I chew my lip. Do I dare...? Yes, I decide. I do. "She was more than my friend." I regard him carefully, watch his mouth twist when he understands. The words hover in the air between us, but I know telling him was the right thing to do. If they catch me it will mean my life, and I want him to know who really I am before I die.

Slowly, he starts to slink towards me. His shoes are silent on the thick carpet, but his hands are at his sides and I don't see a blade. Keeping my eyes on his, I shift my cloak on my shoulder a little. If he sees the dagger at my belt, I won't have a chance.

"You let me kill her," he says softly.

I take a tiny step backwards. I can't run, but I know I can't stay either. He is trying to manipulate me; Tanvik does not care about Arabella. There was nothing I could have done to save her. I know that, so I won't let him use it against me.

"You disappoint me, Freya," he says with a sigh, but he doesn't look disappointed. "First you desert, and now I find that you are just like her." His eyes narrow as he studies me, like he's trying to see my secrets in my face, so I work to keep it as blank as his. "Was Ardyan just someone for you to hide behind, I wonder?"

The rage that simmers inside me feels like a pot that's been left to boil for too long, and it's tempting to empty it all over Tanvik's bald head, right now, but I force myself to ignore the boiling water and focus on the steam instead. Quieter, gentler, but just as capable of giving you a blister. "I loved Ardyan as much as I love Arabella," I say coolly. "And I'm not ashamed of loving either of them, no matter what you do."

That's when he makes a grab for me.

I sidestep. He lunges again. I dodge, but every move takes me deeper into the dragon's cave. Then his knife is there, flashing in the amber light, and I have no reason not to draw my own. We're caught in a dance of steel, and time and space shrink until nothing else exists but us, our blades, and the Shadows.

People have called me Flick ever since I joined this academy, and I had to perform my first duel in front of the rest of the school. It's not a formal thing, but it's an Academy tradition. New students always have to duel a bigger, older one in their first week. It puts them in their place, people say, as some of them are no more than jumped-up peasants, or at least they are to those from ancient lines of Shadows. I lost my first duel—they always do—but afterwards a boy called Ardyan Rybur came up to me and told me I was so fast he could scarce see me move. That's how Freya became Flick—it rhymes with quick.

For a time, quick is enough. I duck and dodge and spin away from Tanvik's hands and his blade, in and out of the Shadows, making not a sound, because I know if someone hears us it will all be over. Tanvik doesn't shout for help either, which is strange, until I realise that it's probably because he wants to be the one to arrest me himself.

He reaches for a strand once more, and I go to do the same, but once he's caught one he doesn't tear it. Instead, he throws it at me and it wraps around my head almost of its own accord. The strand is thin, but it's enough to blind me for a second.

And a second is all Tanvik needs to stab me.