Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
The older woman’s gaze softened in a way that suddenly made Bria uneasy.
Then Winnie smiled gently. “Welcome home, Bria.”
Chapter Eleven
A Magical Village
Unexpected Discovery
Bria stared at Winnie, certain she had somehow misunderstood what the woman meant.
“Home?” she repeated softly. “This is not my home.”
Winnie said nothing at first. She merely sliced the warm loaf of bread and placed several pieces upon the table as though the quiet task deserved more attention than the confusion tightening steadily inside Bria.
Finally, the older woman looked at her. “Perhaps not the home you were raised in, but your beginnings likely rest here all the same.”
The words unsettled Bria more than she wished to admit.
“Nay,” she said quickly, almost too quickly. “You are mistaken.”
Winnie’s gaze remained calm. “Am I?”
Bria folded her arms tightly across herself, suddenly feeling exposed beneath the woman’s quiet scrutiny. “I was born in Leighfeld. I have lived there my whole life.”
“That does not mean your blood began there.”
The strange certainty in Winnie’s voice irritated her.
“You speak as though you know me.”
“I know enough.”
Bria shook her head sharply. “Because you felt warmth through a touch of my hand? I am a comfort healer. That is all.”
Winnie’s expression changed slightly then, something between sympathy and disbelief.
“All?” she repeated softly.
Bria bristled. “There are many comfort healers in Leighfeld.”
“Perhaps it is as you say,” Winnie said, “but not many with the power of your birthright.”
The words struck Bria wrong instantly, and yet she could not help but think of what her touch had been revealing to her lately. How she knew or sensed things, like how she knew an item had been stolen or how she knew Tibby feared the man and missed home as soon as he pressed against her leg.
Her shoulders stiffened, frightened yet intrigued at the thought. “I possess no power.”
Winnie tilted her head slightly, studying her with increasing interest now rather than argument. “You truly believe that?”
“I don’t believe it, I know it.”
“And yet I felt it as soon as we touched and for that to happen, you must be powerful, but then you are in Driochmor now. No doubt that increased your powers.”
Bria opened her mouth to protest but found no words waiting.
Winnie continued more quietly. “Tibby must have sensed it as well, which is why he trusted you and sought your help. He fears most strangers. And what about the trees? They speak to you.”
Bria’s breath caught softly.
“The trees?” she whispered before she could stop herself.
Winnie nodded once. “You touched one and the old trees do not offer comfort freely.”
A chill slid slowly through Bria. She had told no one of that. “How could you possibly know that?”
“You forget magic lives in Driochmor. Many here possess the sight or sense things, and then there are the ones whose touch goes deeper; they see more, feel more.”
The cottage suddenly felt too warm around her.
Bria rose from the table abruptly and turned away, trying unsuccessfully to steady the confusion building inside her.
“I comfort people when ill or in need,” she said firmly. “That is all I have ever done. I ease pain. Fear. Grief.” She shook her head. “There is nothing unusual in that.”
“There is when it flows beyond simple touch.”
Bria spun back toward her. “You speak of me as though I am something unnatural.”
Winnie’s brow furrowed at once. “Nay. Never unnatural.”
“Then what?”
The older woman regarded her quietly a long moment before answering. “One of us. One of Driochmor’s own.”
The words struck harder than Bria expected. Impossible. Everything about this was impossible.
She laughed faintly, though no amusement touched it. “You cannot truly expect me to believe such nonsense.”
Winnie neither argued nor appeared offended. “It is not my task to convince you.”
“Good,” Bria snapped softly. “Because I would not believe it regardless.”
The older woman took no offense. She simply moved slowly toward the hearth, adjusting the kettle hanging above the flames as though giving Bria time to digest the news before she spoke again.
Winnie turned toward her once more. “You have spent your life in Leighfeld among healers who understand little of your power. It was a safe place for you.” Her gaze sharpened gently. “Until your gift blossomed and began to grow more powerful.”
“I do not want to be powerful.”
Winnie smiled sadly then. “Few worthy of it ever do.”
Bria looked away, her thoughts twisting painfully now. Part of her wanted to dismiss everything the woman said and walk from the cottage entirely. Yet another part of her knew there was truth to her words and the thought tightened something painfully inside her chest.
“Where can I find those who you believe I am like, whose skill you believe I inherited?” Bria asked.
Winnie glanced away for a moment and when she turned, Bria saw a sadness in her eyes. “I do not know if any of your kind still live.”
Bria found it strange that a sense of sorrow drifted over her. Why would she feel for those she had never met?