Page 31 of The Lost Guard's Healer

I shake my head in defeat. We step through a narrow gap between the rocks and come out onto the other side to find more open pathways and high walls. I don’t like that we’re going higher instead of lower.

“Can’t you let it go?”

“Can’t you put a little trust in me?” he retorts.

“No,” I snap.

“Then no,” Tarin murmurs.

I sigh, then say, “I was one of the few who discovered their magical abilities when the world changed,” I admit. “I’ve hardly tested what I can do, but… When I concentrate, I can summon light from my hands. Sometimes it happens without me thinking about it.”

“Your father has the same gift?”

I nod. “Similar. Maybe it’s the same. I don’t know. I never asked for it, anyway.”

“What you did back there,” Tarin says, watching me carefully. “That was more than just light.”

“I know. The light… hardened. It became solid.”

“Very solid,” he says. “It didn’t even jar you, did it?”

I shake my head and shift some muddy hair from my face. I’m beginning to notice how bad I smell.

“You can probably do a lot more than that if you explore your powers,” Tarin says.

“No thanks. Not interested,” I say, but hate how stubborn I sound. “My father keeps telling me I should master my powers. I just want to stay the person I was before.”

“You still are that same person,” he says, and watches for my response. Why does his gaze feel so heavy and powerful?

“You don’t know me,” I say, then turn sharply away. “Oh.”

I spot a pool of water on the rock. My guess is it’s collected rainwater, but it’ll do me just fine. I drop the bag of supplies and bend down to wash some of the mud from my arms and hair. My skirt is ruined and my blouse has fared little better, but it feels good to clear some of the mud away. Tarin looks around us while I clean myself.

I feel somewhat better with my arms and legs cleared of the mud, and some of the larger chunks removed from my clothes. My blouse is soaking now though, and I notice Tarin’s eyes roaming my body, though he tries to hide it. I dismiss him and finish cleaning myself as best I can.

“I might know you better than you think,” he finally responds.

I feel myself flushing with annoyance and turn to face him. “Oh, really? Go on, then. Tell me who I am, if you know so much.”

His face tenses with something earnest, like he’s stripped away his arrogant mask and showing his true self. His true self that startles me.

“I know you have a big heart,” he says, “and care too much for others. You are one of the most selfless people I’ve ever met. But you hide your kindness and care behind a tough, stubborn exterior because you’re afraid of getting your sensitive heart hurt.”

That leaves me speechless for a second before I compose myself. “Generic,” I simply say, and fold my arms over my chest. I can feel the cold air seeping into my wet skin, but I fight back the urge to shiver.

“I can see what kind of child you were,” Tarin says. “I can see it clearly. Full of life, and very cheeky. Too smart for your own good. I bet you were a girl who played with dolls and made sure each one was happy. Because you have to make sure that everyone is happy.”

A chill washes over me. My mouth has fallen open. How could he have known that? My voice is low when I admit, “My favorite dolls were called Mave and Socks. Socks was the scared one, and Mave would always cheer her up.”

“It was you cheering Socks up, not Mave. You used them both to process your own emotions of fear and confidence.”

I cannot fathom how he could possibly know this about me. It feels like he’s seeing right into me and I don’t like it.

“Above all,” he says, “you just want to be accepted for who you are. You want comfort and safety, and someone who accepts you for everything you are.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Generic again.” But he is right. Everything he said was right.

Is he reading me? Does he also have that ability? I focus on him and try to connect to that feeling of a spark within me.

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