Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 229266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1146(@200wpm)___ 917(@250wpm)___ 764(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 229266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1146(@200wpm)___ 917(@250wpm)___ 764(@300wpm)
Casteel’s hand flattened against my back as he glanced down at me.
“I’m okay,” I whispered as I cut off the connections, focusing only on the two women in front of me.
The older woman, her eyes a spun gold and brown, looked up at me, watched me as I shifted toward the all-too-still woman on the cot. I knew she was mortal, or at least partially. An Atlantian like Casteel would be healing, but she…
She couldn’t have been all that much older than me, her skin free of lines and untouched by age. I lowered myself, even though I sensed…nothing from the woman.
“You don’t have to do that,” the older woman said.
Hand halting inches from the waxy, limp hand of the wounded woman, I looked across her.
“I know.” She swallowed. “Your gifts would be wasted on my daughter.”
“I…” I didn’t know what to say.
She gazed down at the woman, touching her cheek and then her brow. “I heard of you before I came here. I lived in Masadonia for a time, a few years ago,” she said, surprising me. “They whispered about you—the families of those you attended, that is.”
I pulled back my hand, aware of how intently Casteel was listening.
“They said you gave dignity to those cursed.” Her skin creased as she smiled at her daughter. “Ended their pain before you ended their suffering. I didn’t believe them.” A tear dropped onto the woman’s chest. “I didn’t believe anything raised by the Ascended could give something of such worth. I didn’t believe.” She lifted her gaze to mine.
My breath caught. Her eyes… Flecks of gold seemed to burn brighter as she stared at me, stared straight into me.
“You are a second daughter,” she whispered, sending a chill through me. “Not a Maiden but Chosen nonetheless.”
Unsettled by the emotions of those in the room and the shadow of death waiting to claim the young woman, I wished to go outside where a downpour could wash away the coating on my skin.
“Some of them were afraid of me,” I blurted after Alastir had closed the door behind us. “That guy—the one who wouldn’t let me touch him? He didn’t trust me at all, and I could feel their fear.”
Casteel’s gaze narrowed on the door. “They don’t understand what you can do.”
“They’ve never seen anything like that.” Alastir joined us by an empty table, his skin still pale. “I haven’t seen anything like that in...”
“Not since there were empath warriors?” Casteel surmised. “I think that’s the line Penellaphe is descended from. A few of them must’ve remained in Solis.”
Alastir nodded as he eyed me. “When did your parents learn of your abilities?” Or when did you first know of them?”
“I don’t know the exact age, but it was before we left the capital. I don’t know if the Ascended knew what I could do at that time.”
“And you have a brother?” Alastir asked, and Casteel’s head swiveled toward him. “Was he your full-blooded brother?”
“I believe so,” I said, realizing that someone must’ve told him about Ian or that he’d learned of him when he first heard of me. “But if he’s like me—half-Atlantian—then why would they have allowed him to become an Ascended?”
Alastir glanced back at Casteel. “You sure he is?”
“As sure as I can be without having seen the Ascension myself.”
A thoughtful look crossed Alastir’s face. “It’s unlikely they would’ve turned him if he was of Atlantian descent, but…stranger things have happened.” He looked over at me and then turned to Casteel. “Has she displayed any more of the empath traits?”
Casteel shook his head, and I assumed that Alastir referred to how the empath warriors could somehow use what they sensed against people.
“But why would they be afraid?” I asked. “They saw me help the first person.”
“The people, even those who have lived in Solis, can be wary of things they haven’t seen before and don’t understand,” Casteel explained, and it struck me then that maybe their reaction was why he hadn’t wanted me to help in the first place.
“Some in Atlantia, our oldest who survived the war, would remember the empaths.” Alastir touched the back of a chair, silent for a moment. “And that could be a problem. I’m sure you’ve seen that damn tree out there. The gods have sent a warning.”
“Come now, Alastir, when did you become such a fatalist?” Irritation flashed across Casteel’s features. “The omen is not necessarily a warning. Change can be good just as much as it can be bad. And either way, it has nothing to do with her.”
Damn straight, that omen had nothing to do with me. The mere idea that it did was ridiculous. I crossed my arms. “Why would the oldest of the Atlantians remembering the warriors be a problem?”
“You don’t have anything to do with that omen. A great change coming doesn’t necessarily mean something bad.” Casteel’s stance widened. “And the empath warriors’ abilities were sometimes feared, mainly because very little could be hidden from them. And out of all the bloodlines, they were the closest to the deities.”