Page 102 of Haunted

“Of course,” she says into my chest. “I just didn’t think you’d take advantage of it so soon and so readily. What impish ideas are in your head?”

“None, I assure you. I do have one question.” I have to ask.

“What?”

“Should I be jealous?”

She shoves out of my arms. “You. You!”

“I thought you should know how free your thoughts are.”

“Why should it matter if we’ve bonded? Don’t you want to hear my free thoughts?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” I say. “I actually love it. I haven’t been in the mind of a woman before.”

I try pulling her back into my arms, but she pushes on me again. “You’re still not opening up to me!”

I wince inside. “I will do so slowly. It’s hard. I don’t want to overwhelm you all at once.”

“Oh, and my simpleminded thoughts as a woman don’t overwhelm you?”

“I’d say I’m not overwhelmed. No. Not at all.”

She huffs. “I might not be as intellectual as you are, or have such deep-seated thoughts and as tormented a past as you, but I can assure you I’m not simpleminded.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“I will see you tonight. I have work to do.”

“As do I, Niawen dearest,” I say. “As do I.”

I watch her walk away and let her feel my contented sigh.

She glares at me before she turns the corner.

I send her pleasure, an emotion she could discern without any bond, but I don’t want her to miss it.

I’ll show you pleasure, she thinks.

I laugh and head toward my study. Please, Niawen, I think to myself, show me everything you have.

69

I head to a dreadfully boring meeting about the winter food storage. Niawen has been healing so many people that we don’t have the usual sick dying off during the cold winter. My counselors and I carefully adjust rations. We are well out of danger of starvation, but we need more food nonetheless.

I allow Niawen to hear my thoughts of the meeting. Nothing scintillating, but I want her to know that I am willing to let her in.

Baby steps.

Lord Eshlar is reading off the adjustments to the rations and adding notes about the spring planting to account for the added stores that will be needed for next winter when I suddenly get interference—

In my head.

From Niawen.

Her skin was the color of the milk she had squeezed into the bucket, I hear.

I freeze while Lord Eshlar drones on. I know those words. The Forlorn. A scandalous novel that Niawen read before. I know well the page. Niawen folded down the corner. I didn’t think much of it then, but I know what she’s up to now.

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