[This post is from Marin’s point of view.]
Kellin stared steadily at me for longer than was comfortable. I looked away, swallowing against a lump in my throat. I didn’t like lying to anyone, least of all her. It always felt like she somehow deserved better than that.
“You haven’t seen anything,” she said softly. “Not about this fight. Have you?”
I shook my head. “No. Not about things. Things that I’m sure have to come after, though. Lots of that. Nothing about this. I’m not sure I want to.”
She snorted almost inaudibly and smiled, shaking her head. “Who the hell wants to see visions of fighting and death and shit like that? Not me. I don’t envy you and Thom. Not a damn bit.”
“No one should,” I murmured, staring at nothing. “It’s a gift and a curse and it depends on the day which one of those it is. The fact that everyone keeps looking to us for answers about how this is going to go is rough.”
“Who’s asked?”
“It’s not about people asking, it’s about the looks,” I said, then sighed. “I can see it when they look at us. They wonder if we know something we’re not telling and then they wonder why we might not be telling. It’s hard, Kel. It’s so damn hard. Even if I haven’t seen anything, the looks still come. Then we all wonder—me included—if now I’m going to see something. If now the visions are going to come. Sometimes I hate it. God, sometimes I hate it so much.”
