And I guess he didn't tell you that I'm not used to being talked about as if I'm not here.'
The man raised a brow. 'I see that you have more in common with Magda Merton than it seems.' His frown, edged with weariness, deepened. 'Darius-you did not choose someone with a child that young?'
'No,' she said flatly. 'He waited until all mine were dead.'
The Herald had the grace to look shocked, and she regretted the words almost instantly. Such a grief, such a loss, was never meant to be used as a weapon; it was wrong.
It was just wrong. She slid off the back of her Companion, gently extricating herself from Daniel's arms. 'My pardon, Herald,' she said, to the chest of the man in Whites. 'I woke the child from a...from a deep sleep. It was safest to bring him here.'
'There is no safety here, if the child was affected by the-' He grimaced. 'The Kings'
Own has been waiting for you, if you are Kayla; please, follow me.'
She hesitated a moment, and then Daniel said, 'It's all right, Kayla.' His words were thin and shaky; she could see the fear in his eyes. But he drew himself up to his full height, as if he were adult; as if he could bear the weight of her absence. 'Darius says that he'll take care of me.'
'Darius says-' Her eyes widened. 'You can hear him?'
'Sometimes. When he's talking to me.'
She pondered that as she followed the Herald. He led her down the hall into a very finely appointed room-a room that was the size of the gathering hall in the Hold of Riverend.
There, a woman was standing by the great window that ran from floor to ceiling, an ostentatious display of glass.
Kayla had the ridiculous urge to kneel; she fought it carefully, although she did bow deeply.
'I am Gisel,' the woman said.
'I'm Kayla.'
'Kayla Grayson, Margaret Merton's daughter.'
'Her youngest, yes.'
'Arlen says that you've been through Evandale.'
'Arlen?'
'Ah. My Companion. She has been speaking with Darius. It appears that you...met with...the victims of the shadow plague. And that you saved two.'
Kayla nodded hesitantly.
'I guess that means that Magda took it upon herself to teach you.'
'T-teach me?'
Gisel frowned. 'Yes, teach you. Your Gift.' When silence prevailed, the unpleasant frown deepened. 'You must understand your Gift?'
'W-what Gift would that be?'
Gisel raised a hand to her gray hair and yanked it out of her face. 'I wish I had time, child. I don't. Your mother was one of the most gifted Empaths the kingdom of Valdemar has ever known.'
'E-empath?'
'I really do not have the patience for this.'
It was true. Kayla could feel the older woman's anger, but it was mixed with a terrible sorrow and a deep guilt. Guilt, in her experience, had always been a double-edged sword; it could drive men mad. In the hold, it had.
'Empathy is a Gift that is deeper than words, and more subtle. You have that Gift. And if your mother didn't teach you how to use it, and you've survived the passage through Evandale...then you are more than just her daughter.' Gisel walked away from the window and the light in the room grew. It was a cold light. 'There are people who are born with other talents; you must have heard their stories. Some can summon fire; some can work great magic; some can heal with a touch; some can hear the words that men don't speak aloud.
Any of these, untrained, are a danger to themselves, or to others. But Empaths can exist without such training; they are often sympathetic, or perhaps skittish, because of what they can sense. Feelings often run deeper than words; most men and women never really learn how to adequately speak of what they feel.
'I have wine here, and water; would you care for either?'
Kayla shook her head.
'As you wish. I intend to have a great deal of the former before this is over.' True to her word, she poured herself a glass of a liquid that was a deep crimson, and stared at its surface as if she could glean information from it.
'An Empath can do these things. It is why empaths have often made better diplomats than those whose Gift it is to read the thoughts, the unspoken words of others.'
Kayla had only barely heard of people like that, and she had always feared them. She said nothing.
'You'll be given your grays, and settled in, but you won't have the chance to train and learn with the newest of the Chosen. Your work is already waiting, and-I'm sorry child-but we don't have the time it would take to prepare you.
'This is a risk. I apologize for forcing you to take it. You know that the King has three sons, yes?'
'And two daughters. Which is more children than-'
'Yes, yes.'
'And they've all survived,' Kayla added, unable to keep the bitterness out of the words.
'It depends. The youngest of his sons was a...difficult lad. He doted on his mother, the Queen. When she passed away, he drifted, and his father was not a sensitive man; the running of the Kingdom during the border skirmishes kept him away from the capital for much of the year.
'But Gregori was Chosen, in spite of his black moods and his despondency. His Companion-' and here, she did flinch, 'was Rodri. Rodri was as sensitive as Gregori, and gentle in a way Gregori was not, and when Rodri did Choose him, we rejoiced.' Again the words were bitter.
'We rejoiced anew when we discovered that Gregori was Gifted; that he was an Empath of exceptional power. It was part of the reason he was so withdrawn and so moody as a child; he could not bear the constant anger, fear, and hatred that he felt around him.
The court...is not a suitable place for a child of such sensitivity.'
'It's not just those things.'
'What isn't?'
'That you feel. That I feel. There's more. There's joy. There's silliness.'
'Magda did teach you, even if she didn't tell you what it was she was teaching.'
'Rodri did teach Gregori to listen to those things, and Gregori-flourished. We were grateful. The King was grateful.'
She knew that the story was going someplace bad, and she almost raised a hand to stem the flow of this autocratic woman's words. But she knew that would be a mistake.
'Rodri died, didn't he?'
Gisel raised a brow. Lifted her glass. 'Yes. He died.'
'And Gregori?'
Gisel closed her eyes. Set the glass down and filled it again. 'There are Empaths among the Heralds,' she said, when she chose to speak again. 'I am not one of them.
'If I were, I would not be here to speak to you now.'
And Kayla knew, as the words left the lips of the King's Own, that she was angry; that had it been up to this woman, Gregori would be dead.
She took a step back, a step away, and lifted her hand.
Gisel's dark eyes became narrowed edges into a harsh expression. 'Yes, Kayla, you're right. If it had been up to me, I would have killed the boy. If it were up to me, he would be dead now.'
'But the King-'
'Yes. The King feels guilt. Even though he sees the cost of Gregori's continued...existence, he feels that if he had somehow been present, he could have prevented what did happen. What is happening even as we speak. And he has summoned every Healer in the kingdom to the side of his son's bed in an attempt to revive him, to bring him back.
