Free A Templar's Gifts by Kat Black Page A

asked.
    â€œI’ve killed as well, Tormod. An’ it was people who did no’ deserve to die.” She wouldn’t meet my eye. She did not speak for a long moment, and I concentrated on the drip of the rain and the shift and sway of the trees. I let the pulse of the forest’s life calm me. Her voice was so soft and low that when she began again, I had to fight to hear. “I killed them, Tormod. My family is gone an’ it’s my fault.”
    I was confused. I knew her memories even if she was unaware of it. Her family had died of illness. “Ye didn’t, Aine. I saw what happened. Illness took yer family. Ye canno’ take responsibility for that.”
    She shook her head. “I begged them to go to market, Tormod. We didn’t go every year, an’ we weren’t set to yet. I talked them into it. An’ on the way we passedthrough a village whose memories lay strong enough for me to see.”
    Her hands were wringing the plaid and her face was pale with the remembering. “I read the place. I saw the illness, but I was caught up in wanting to get to market an’ I didn’t heed the signs. I didn’t tell anyone. They never knew.” She choked on the last.
    â€œThere was naught ye could have done about it, lass. I know what yer feeling. I’ve faced like situations. It’s no’ yer fault, ye didn’t recognize the danger. An’ truly, could ye have told them? Would they have listened?”
    She took a deep breath. “Yer the first one I’ve ever talked to about it, the first who might understand. No. I guess they wouldn’t have believed me even if I insisted.” She rolled over and sat up. “It doesn’t make me feel any better. I lived an’ they died.”
    I didn’t argue. I felt as she did and it got me nowhere. We had both survived when others hadn’t. I didn’t know why any more than she did.
    â€œSo ye too can read the past o’ a place?” she asked.
    â€œNot like I think ye can. I have visions, bits an’ pieces of both the past an’ the future come to me, but they’re never complete. I only see a little at a time, like I’m looking through a hole.”
    She nodded. “I see it all an’ I’d much rather no’ most times. It’s rare strange to speak about it at all.” She paused, in thought. Then she stood and offered me ahand up. “I’m starving. An’ stayin’ here is no’ an option. Let’s eat and go.”
    I nodded and accepted her hand. A gentle hum of vibration slid through me all the way to my shields when my fingers touched hers. I didn’t know what to make of, or do, about it.
    She misinterpreted my quiet. “Are ye feelin’ badly?”
    â€œNo. I am fairly well just now.” The horse was grazing beyond the overhang and I took a long drink of water from the skin. Aine drew two apples from the pack and gave me one.
    â€œSo, where
are
we goin’?” she asked.
    â€œTo seek a healer o’ our kind, Bertrand Beaton by name.” I stood and tied my pack to the saddle, then climbed astride and offered her a hand up.
    â€œThere are more? Like us, I mean?” she asked. The surprise in her voice was familiar. I had been just as shocked by the notion when it was first suggested to me.
    â€œAye. From what I’m told, there are many. I was supposed to apprentice with them.” I could feel her curiosity peak.
    â€œYe were to be a healer’s apprentice?” she asked.
    â€œA Templar’s apprentice,” I replied. Even now the words felt good on my tongue, and the look of wonder that passed over her features pleased me.
    â€œI would give anything to be one!” she exclaimed.
    â€œYou? A lass?” A sharp laugh escaped before I could rein it in.
    Her legs firmed on the ground and with a strong jerk on my arm she toppled me off the horse before I knew what happened. My