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?
“How can I find out if any still live?”
“It would not be wise of you to ask,” Winnie said.
Bria’s brow wrinkled. “Why is that?”
Winnie lowered her voice after glancing quickly at the door. “King Halric ordered the death of those he called the Intruders. Most died, a few, if rumors are to be believed, went into hiding. Where? No one knows. But having met you, I would guess that some dared to hide under King Halric’s nose, among the healers in Leighfeld.”
“Why did King Halric order their deaths?”
“He claimed they turned against him, against Scotara, and were responsible for his son’s death.” Winnie kept her voice low. “Let no one know who you are, for there is a good chance that King Dravic will see you dead since your kind is still marked for death.”
Bria sat staring until a whisper fell from her lips. “My kind, who are they?”
