I slipped through the tent, wraith-quiet and trying not to draw anyone’s attention. For once, no one waylaid me. I emerged into the winter sunshine, clutching my journal against my chest. The wind was still cold, but I was starting to be able to feel the very barest hints of spring. It would come eventually.
The wards pulsed faintly, comfortingly, still strong. I could feel them the same way I could feel the sunshine or the breeze. I leaned against the wall for a moment, closing my eyes and letting their power wash over me, power I’d infused into them myself.
One hand strayed toward my belly, still mostly flat even though I could sense the spark that was my son. Someday, Phelan and I would teach him to tend these wards, and he’d acquit that responsibility admirably.
Someday after I’m gone, it’ll be his duty.
I squeezed my eyes shut and swallowed a sigh. It wasn’t a question of if. It was only a matter of when.
“Are you all right?”
I winced slightly at the sound of Neve’s voice, opening my eyes and turning to look at her. “You know that I’m not.”
“Yeah,” she said softly. “But it seemed polite to ask first before I just jumped straight to what’s wrong.”
“You say that like you know.”
“I can suspect, anyway. You saw something and it wasn’t good. Was it about Thordin?”
I choked on a laugh. “You’re way too good at this.”
Her shoulders rose and fell in a shrug as she joined me in leaning against the wall. “I’ve had a lot of time to perfect my technique and a lot of family to practice it on. Teague and Phelan and Seamus…they all liked to be closed-lipped about it all at the same time.”
“I saw him with Sif,” I whispered. “I think she was dead. There was a man in white and he was laughing. He didn’t seem to notice or care when Thordin came after him. It just…Neve, what good are my visions if I can’t stop some of the worst things from happening?”
“You know that it’s not all set in stone,” she said.
“I know.” I squeezed my eyes shut and swallowed against a lump in my throat. “It’s just so damned hard, Neve. It’s too damned hard to know what choices not to make and what chances to take. What if I make the wrong call and cause that to happen? What if by trying to prevent it—”
She squeezed my arm. “Stop,” she whispered. “Just stop, Marin. Don’t walk that path. That way lies madness. Just trust yourself. Trust us.”
I stared at her for a long moment before I burst into tears.
I do mysterious things that very few would understand or probably wouldn’t even recognize. It is my blood, my ancestry. I don’t want to have such a burden of seeing a future event.
Thank you for another great addition.
Awww I wanna give Marin a biiiiig hug! 🙁
Love this story 🙂 well done!