A few minutes of silence passed in which Leanna internally oscillated between questioning every single moment of interaction she had had with Penlyn up until this point, helplessly replaying the feeling of the woman’s skin warming underneath her fingers, and berating herself for both. Until Penlyn broke the silence.

“So how does that work?”

“What?”

“Your magic. When you summoned the portal earlier you used some kind of blood spell, but just now and with the orbs you only spoke words.”

Leanna considered her response for a moment. She’d never explained this to anyone before. People just expected results, they never asked how or why. It was...refreshing. 

“Spell work is a kind of…balancing act. Despite appearances, the results of spells don’t just happen automatically when summoned. Nothing in the universe works that way. You need to exert something, or give something up, to get something in return.”

Penlyn considered this for a moment. “If you gave up some blood and whatever that powder stuff was for the portal, then what did you exchange for the orb and to warm me up?”

“A few strands of hair and some energy, partially from the act of saying the incantation. Lower-energy spells don’t require much.”

Penlyn slicked back her chin-length hair from where it had fallen in front of her eyes and nodded, seeming genuinely interested. Unable to resist, Leanna dug in her pockets for her spellbook.

“This is a list of incantations that I’ve accumulated over the years, or the ones I haven’t managed to memorize, at least." 

These spells often came from libraries or were passed down through families. However, the familial spells were much harder to get a hold of, especially with a reputation like hers, because the families coveted them with such a personal sense of ancestral pride. But Leanna had, on occasion, been known to eavesdrop in order to obtain them. Only ever on accident, mind you; it wasn’t her fault that people didn’t close doors all the way. Or check underneath their windowsills.

“The differences between family sorcery and professional, academically recorded sorcery are quite fascinating.” Leanna tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and flipped quickly through some pages. 

She began relaying to Penlyn one of her more interesting journeys across the continent to learn about the latest academic spellwork, flipping through her notes and holding up her hastily drawn maps and diagrams. "Apparently, this small-town family's spell work, which was much more effective than the convoluted gibberish those Trimane Academy dolts were able to scrounge up, had already been in the family for generations, and—why are you looking at me like that?”

Penlyn’s face was all twisted up, like she was losing a battle with her emerging smirk. “Sorry, it’s just, I did not expect you to be so deeply nerdy.”

Leanna’s mouth opened and closed a few times before she was able to form words. She was the Scourge of the Veil for spirits’ sake. Sorcerers who were feared throughout entire kingdoms for their ability to mobilize the dead as their own personal army, something that no sorcerer had had the skill to accomplish in the last century, should not be accused of nerdiness. 

Not that Leanna particularly enjoyed her ridiculous titles or the fear they evoked, nor did she ever actually form that rumored army of the undead. But she could have if she had wanted to. Anyway, it was the principle of the thing. She did have some pride. 

Leanna shut her spell book with a sharp snap and shoved it into a pocket of her cloak. “That’s ridiculous,” she said, then strode forward with so much purpose (certainly not to be confused with fleeing) that the hood of her cloak flew back off of her head.

“Not so ridiculous, considering you just ranted to me about spellwork origins for the last twenty minutes,” Penlyn said, jogging a little to catch up and not be left in the dark.

“It was not twenty minutes,” Leanna huffed, “and if you didn’t want to know, you shouldn’t have asked.”

“Well, I didn’t really ask about that specifically, so—”

Leanna walked faster.

“Whoa there, I’m sorry, okay?” Penlyn said. “I was just teasing. Didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

Leanna scoffed. “I am not embarrassed. I was just pointing out the inaccuracy of your statement.”

Penlyn wisely decided not to comment on the pink flush Leanna could feel making its way up her neck. “Alright, fine. You’re not embarrassed.” There were a few beats of silence, then, “So, totally random thought completely unrelated to any past points of conversation, but I was just considering how nice it must be to be passionate about what you do to earn your livelihood.”

Leanna continued to avoid Penlyn’s gaze.

“Take me for example,” Penlyn said. “I’ve got no passion like that. I mean, I like plants and bugs and things, but it’s a bit difficult to do anything financially viable with that while not in possession of actual plants. I travel, but the jobs I pick up along the way are just whatever I can find in the moment I need it. Let me tell you, helping out a midwife is not nearly as lovely or glamorous as it sounds.” Penlyn shivered dramatically. “So many fluids.”

Leanna could feel Penlyn's gaze prickling her skin. She still refused to look at her, the flush on her skin far too noticeable for her comfort, but her pace had slowed down from breakneck to only mildly-strained-neck.

Penlyn continued, “So, you know, when I hear someone—any person really, no one in particular—talk about how much they are interested in the job that they do, which is indeed deeply nerdy no matter what they may tell you…well, I think it’s quite impressive.”

Leanna and Penlyn's gazes met for a moment.

Just then, a faint glimmer of light appeared far ahead of them in the cave's passageway.