Contained.
The surface still as a looking glass, the sky above clear blue. I concentrate on it until the clouds are a distant rumble, until the wind gentles to a breeze, then drops off completely. Until the sea around me feels like cool bathwater.
“I’m there,” I breathe, floating. “I’m at the center.”
“Reach out with your senses. Beneath the storm. Beyond the chaos. What else do you feel?”
“Nothing. There’s nothing.”
“Not nothing. Look harder.”
“There’s…” I search the calm waters, not knowing what I am supposed to be seeking until I see it. Feel it. A faint ripple, disturbing the serenity. “Wait. There’s…something else.”
And there is. Like an invisible current, tugging me forward. Warm as an underground hot spring amid the cool waves of my mind’s eye. Beckoning like the smell of burning chestnuts on an autumn wind. I glide toward it, following my senses. Pushing past the confines of my consciousness, I open my eyes and stare at the source.
“It’s you,” I murmur in surprise. “I feel…you.”
He is startlingly close. His eyes are a living flame, burning into mine. “What do I feel like?”
“Like…a hot swallow of tea after a day out in the chill.” I test the current between us, exploring it, running my mind across it like hands over a precious object. “Like the faint char of a bonfire in the air from somewhere far away. A hint of flame and heat.”
He does not say a word. He does not move a muscle. He does not even appear to be breathing.
“Is that what I feel like to you?” I ask.
“No. You…” A muscle leaps in his cheek as his jaw tightens. “You are like a crisp trickle of water down the back of a sun-scorched neck. Like cold aloe on a burn.”
“Oh” is all I can manage to say.
We stare at each other for a long time. Drinking each other in with this newfound sense of awareness. He’s right: it is like having a sixth sense. A second sight. Just as I can see him, smell him, touch him…I can now actuallyfeelhim standing there. Even with my eyes closed, I know I would be able to pinpoint his exact location. It is akin to looking through a glamour, but instead of seeing his true likeness, I see straight to his soul.
“You will be able to sense when I’m nearby,” he tells me in a gruff voice. “Even sense some of my emotions, if I do not guard against it.”
My eyes are wide with sudden horror. “Can you sense mine?”
“Sometimes.”
“Sometimes?”
“Only the very strong ones.” He glances away from me. “As with any connection, the more you hone it, the stronger it becomes. The more time we spend together, the deeper the bond will grow and the keener my perception will be.” His throat bobs on a swallow. “That’s how it has been for me in the past, anyway.”
With Soren.
With Enid.
A flash of something unpleasant flares through me. “Right. Of course.”
He stares at the tree line for a long while in silence. “We should be getting back. It’s dark. The men will be looking for us.”
“But—”
He turns and walks away before I can ask him anything else.Mind reeling, I wait until he is almost out of sight before I follow him back to camp.
It isn’t until later, when I’ve burrowed into my bedroll by the fire, that I realize he did not ask me a single question about Soren or my time at the Acrine Hold.
Chapter
Nineteen