He looks up from where he sits at a round table. “Hello.”
“Hello,” I say as I cross the room.
It’s every bit as grand as the rest of the palace. Someone hand crafted the furniture—carving into the wood with fine attention to detail. They hung silk tapestries and built an elaborate fireplace made of marble and walnut.
With a smile, Alden points to the chair opposite him. “Please sit.”
I do as he requested, sitting and folding my hands in my lap.
He looks the same as when I last saw him. He has the same raven-colored hair. The same vibrant blue eyes. The same short beard. The same lines across his brow, hinting that he’s at least fifty summers.
“Tell me about yourself, Sol.”
My breath hitches at that question. A reaction I’m sure he doesn’t miss.
Breathe.
Just breathe.
You can do this.
I inhale and slowly exhale.“I’m Sol of the Kyanite tribe. I am…” The words stick in my throat. I force them out anyway. “…a healer.”
“Is that all you are?”
What more does he want from me?
“Yes.”
“I have been doing a little research into your background,” he admits.
My heart falls to my feet.
Olah, help me.
“Would you like to know what I have discovered?”
No.“Yes.”
“Youaren’ta healer. Your mother is dead. Your father owns a brothel.” Assurance and frankness bleeds from his words as he continues. “And you ran away from home when you were sixteen.”
My mouth falls open before I snap it closed.
The room grows hotter, more confining, as though it reaches in, suffocating me.
Breathe.
“Would you like to know the most troubling part of all of that?” When I fail to answer, he continues anyway. “There are about four summers unaccounted for. Four summers where you could have been anything. Done anything.” He leans forward, locking his eyes with mine. “Tell me about those summers.”
I lace my fingers together and draw on my inner calm. “I traveled across Tarrobane, and I worked at different taverns as I discovered a world beyond Kyanite land.”
“Why?”
“I craved adventure.” It’s true. I did crave adventure. I craved a life beyond being incapable of casting magic.
“I see.” Slowly, Alden drums his fingers against the table. “Why do you lie about healing?”
I lift my hand to the kyanite stone tucked into my surcoat. “It’s easier to lie about not being able to heal with magic, than to admit that I cannot.” I adjust positions and take a deep breath before continuing. “I am a healer, just not in the traditional sense of Kyanite healing.”
