Page 163 of Esperance

She made her choice.

She took a slow breath. “I don’t understand how I healed everyone. I was only trying to healyou.”

He stared at her. “How?”

Words she’d never uttered were slow to come. “I . . . I’m an empath.”

His emotions stirred—then scrambled. “You’re an empath?”

“Yes.”

His shoulders tensed, but he didn’t draw back. She did feel a flicker of fear, though.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” she said. “I healed you, remember?”

Confusion etched his face. “But that’s impossible. Empaths can’thealpeople.”

“I can. So could my mother.”

He shook his head slowly. “How did I not know that?”

“There are a lot of things the church has hidden about empaths.”

Carver shoved a hand through his dark hair, his thoughts clearly racing. “This is . . .impossible. I can’t . . .”

She set a hand on his bent knee. “I know this is a lot to process. And I’ll answer your questions, but I need to know if you told anyone about what I did.”

“No.” There was a hint of humor in the word, though it felt desperate. “Who would believe me? Everyone thinks we just got lucky. That the poison was too diluted to kill us.”

Despite her best efforts, she trembled a little as she asked, “Are you going to report me to the high cleric?”

Carver’s eyes slid to her, and his emotions narrowed into one determined wall. “No.”

She was frozen, unable to find her voice.

Carver misread her silence. “I’m not going to betray you.” His gaze narrowed and he braced his shoulders, his expression resolved. “Go ahead—delve into my mind and see for yourself.”

Despite everything, her mouth twitched. “Empaths aren’t mind-readers. I can’t read your thoughts or know your intentions. I only feel your present emotions.”

Slowly, his body loosened. “All right. What do you feel from me, then?”

He relaxed his tight hold on his emotions, and without those defenses, she felt everything fully. Desperation. Sincerity. A little uncertainty and apprehension. Burning curiosity. Gratitude. A quiet grief, but that was muted—it had nothing to do with this moment.

Protectiveness. Loyalty. Affection. Friendship. Trust.

Love.

The sheer intensity of that single emotion stole her breath, and tears filled her eyes.

Carver cursed. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Her throat was too tight for words, so she threw her arms around him and buried her face in the curve of his neck.

His arms banded around her, confusion and concern billowing.

“Thank you,” she managed to whisper.

His grip on her only tightened.

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