The Terrible Gift (Empath Found Book 1) Page 3

  “Your ears are pointed. You look like a fae. Congratulations.”

  Bryn spun on his heel and marched through the grass without a backward glance, stomping to the edge of the meadow where a horse and carriage were waiting. The driver appeared to be napping on the ground but jumped up like he’d been electrocuted when Bryn’s furious footsteps got closer.

  I felt the driver’s nerves skittering along the back of my neck, but none of the strange tugging feeling my chest. Apparently, feeling the emotions on my body was a fae-specific thing, but the magnetic pull was just a Bryn-specific thing. I didn’t know how to make heads or tails of all of these new developments in my life in the past couple of hours.

  I wasn’t totally sure what Bryn’s issue was now, but I could feel an increase in his lust that was really not helping out my own lust situation, as well as a healthy dose of his embarrassment burning in my cheeks that wasn’t there before. I suspected it had to do with the whole ear-touching thing. I desperately wanted to see his fae ears, but it felt too personal to ask.

  Bryn must have been wearing a glamour too. His hair wasn’t black like it had been back in London, it was more like an incredibly dark, midnight blue. The kind of color girls back home would pay good money to achieve. His eyes were different too, the blue was more intense, and they were as bright as sapphires. He was still half a foot taller than me at least, but we were definitely much closer in height than we were in London. The thought didn’t excite me, my limbs felt long and gawky. Hopefully I’d get used to them? I must be about 6ft tall now.

  Bryn muttered a few words to the driver while indicating the carriage I assumed we were traveling in. I climbed in and attempted to get comfortable on the thinly padded bench with Bryn following not long after, sitting opposite me and staring resolutely out the window. His emotions were all anger now, but it felt a bit forced, and I wondered if he was trying to mask his other feelings by using rage as a cover. It was a good tactic.

  “Get comfortable, scout. Sleep if you like. It’s about an hour's journey from here to the Academy.” He didn’t look at me at all, and I decided not to push it.

  Sleep probably wasn’t the worst way to handle an hour enclosed in a tiny space with a man who inspired more lust in me than I had ever experienced. Since he inconveniently seemed to despise me and all.

  ◆◆◆

  I didn’t sleep. As soon as the carriage had started moving, I hadn’t been able to take my eyes off the majestic scenery outside the window. Avalon was nothing like London. The carriage traveled along a dirt path that wound through miles of forest, occasionally broken up by a meadow or rolling fields. The foliage was far more vibrant than anything I’d ever seen back home. Each flower was perfectly formed and had an iridescent sheen to it. There were also fruit trees everywhere. Particularly apples. They didn’t grow in an orchard, the fruit trees just seemed to sprout up naturally in the middle of the forest.

  When we arrived, everything was bathed in gold from the low sun. Now it seemed like the sky was darkening, which was weird since we’d left London in the wee hours of the morning. Was there a time difference in realm travel? I had so many burning questions, but Bryn didn’t seem in the mood for chit-chat.

  My feet were squished uncomfortably in my now too-small shoes. Bryn had kicked off his boots already and I noticed the driver didn’t wear shoes either so I pulled mine off as discreetly as I could and shoved them in my bag. Probably not the best first impression but I think my feet had grown an extra couple of inches when I came through the portal. The shoes were a write-off.

  Either the route we were traveling was quite remote or Avalon was less populated than the human realm. The only emotions I could pick up on the ride were Bryn’s sickly unease and the driver’s warm contentedness that wrapped around me like a familiar blanket. The contrasting emotions clashed uncomfortably. If this was what life here would always be like, I’m not sure I would be able to handle it here.

  Bryn was still staring resolutely out of his window. I wondered idly if he’d moved at all the entire journey.

  The carriage pulled to a stop and I was stunned to see an enormous treehouse above me that extended up to three stories into the uppermost branches. I gaped at it in awe. Is this where the dean lived? Do all fae live in trees? I’d always had an obsession with tree climbing, as far back as I could remember, maybe that was my fae showing?

  We climbed out of the carriage and I slung my backpack over my shoulders as Bryn started up the rough-hewn log staircase that winded around the tree trunk without a word to me. I guess his brief helpful stint of explaining things to me was over. It had been nice while it lasted.

  We were greeted at the entrance by an imposing, stately looking woman who could only be Gwyneira. She looked to be in her 60s, with some fine lines defining her face and silver hair pulled back into a long braid all the way down her back. Her floor-length dark green dress was the same kind of linen-fabric that Bryn was wearing. However, she also wore a thick wool cape with a high collar, held together by a silver brooch that looked like the Celtic knots I’d seen guys tattoo on themselves back home. Gwyneira had an air of authority and confidence rolling off her in waves. Still, I sensed genuine compassion like a comforting arm wrapped around my shoulders that immediately put me at ease.

  “Welcome to the Academy of Avalon. I am Master Gwyneira, the dean. You may call me Gwyneira.”

  “Hello,” I said, feeling a little awkward at her formality. “I’m Ffion Smith.”

  “Ffion, a beautiful name. Mr. Edan, thank you for your assistance. Come sit, both of you. Let us have tea.” Bryn looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, but it seemed he couldn’t turn down a direct request from the dean.

  We sat in a simple sitting room, with two comfortable dark blue armchairs, a glossy wooden coffee table and a small emerald green couch. Bryn and I sat on the couch, leaning as far away from each other as possible, as Gwyneira took one of the armchairs opposite. Almost everything in the room was wood as far as the eye could see. Wooden floors, wooden walls, wooden ceiling, wooden furniture. There were candles scattered throughout the room, housed in little glass orbs. They should really consider getting electricity here, all of those candles were a major fire hazard.

  The focal point of Gwyneira's sitting room was a large tapestry that covered most of one wall. It looked ancient, the colors had mostly faded but some threads looked like they were spun gold and glinted in the light. In the middle of the tapestry, six figures were depicted in a circle, holding hands. They were indistinguishable from each other, all wore long white robes that covered their faces. In the middle of the circle was a glowing orb where most of the gold thread was concentrated.

  Each corner of the tapestry depicted one of the elements. The top left had waves that looked like they were coming from the corner of the tapestry and crashing on the circle of figures. The top right depicted fire, licking flames and curling smoke creeping towards the center of the image. The bottom left showed earth with long, twisting vines covered in blooming flowers. Finally, the bottom right of the tapestry showed air, a furious, twisting tornado spiraling towards the six serene-looking beings in the center.

  It was fascinating — not particularly beautiful — but whatever it was portraying resonated deeply in my soul.

  A dignified-looking man entered the room with a tray of tea and fruit. Both Gwyneira and the man were barefoot too, I guess that was the style here? I was feeling pretty self-conscience in my denim mini, cropped hoodie, and bare feet. With my sudden growth spurt, my outfit was bordering on indecent.

  “Ffion, will you tell me about yourself?” Gwyneira asked as she poured tea, and the man quietly excused himself. I felt his affection for her, must be her husband.

  While Bryn and Gwyneira's emotions weren't currently raising any alarm bells, I didn’t feel ready to tell them all my secrets. I decided to keep it pretty vague. “I was raised in foster care. I don’t know my parents. I had some strange abilities and a lot of medical is
sues that put families off adopting me, so I stayed in care until I aged out. I've been working as a cleaner for the past three years in London.”

  “How old are you now?”

  “I recently turned 20.”

  I left out the part about being found wandering around outside the orphanage as a three-year-old, dressed in oversized rags and no shoes, with ‘Ffion’ written on my arm. A conversation for another day. I didn't Gwyneira to think I was in any rush to track down the parents who had abandoned me.

  “Can you tell me more about these strange abilities and the medical issues you mentioned?” Gwyneira asked.

  “I guess I’m good at reading people,” I said vaguely, “it gives me migraines if there are a lot of people around.”

  “She’s an empath, I’m pretty sure,” Gwyneira sucked in a breath at Bryn’s words. “She read my emotions. And by the sounds of it, she has an air affinity.” It could have been a compliment, but Bryn’s tone was completely unaffected.

  “I thought you must be powerful to draw my attention all the way from Albion,” Gwyneira said, smiling kindly. “Once upon a time, most fae had powerful elemental magic but it is increasingly rare these days.

  “It is also difficult to use magic in Albion, where there is none in the atmosphere to draw from. Though, of course, there is always magic inside you that can be called upon. It is an essential part of what makes us fae.”

  “So, I have magic inside me? But there’s also more magic in this, er, realm? And not on Earth?” I questioned, my curiosity burning hot. Bryn bristled with irritation, but I felt Gwyneira’s satisfaction with my questions.

  “All fae have magic in their blood, even those who do not have an elemental affinity. While the fae’s magic weakens with each generation, the magic of Avalon is constant, and it helps us harness our abilities. Albion, or Earth as you called it, was once filled with magic too. Humans used to be able to channel it. We called them sorcerors many centuries ago,” Gwyneira explained before turning to Bryn.

  “An empath, you say? I do not mean to alarm you, Ffion, but I think it would be best to keep that information between the three of us for now. There were many empaths, once upon a time. Their abilities were coveted and they were often hunted.”

  A cold trickle of fear ran down my spine. “Once you fully come into your gift, you will be able to use it to defend yourself. Until then, it would be safer for you to have mentoring sessions with me privately to learn more about your gift.”

  Bryn’s surge of surprise shot acutely through my gut and I got the feeling that it was quite an honor to be mentored personally by the dean.

  “Unfortunately, although you are the same age as our third-year students, you will be in the first-year classes,” she looked at me sympathetically. “I will arrange tutors for you where possible to get you caught up. Meet me at the arena tomorrow at 9 am. We will do a simple test to confirm that you have an affinity for air magic and finalize your class schedule then.”

  “I’m not actually sure yet if I want to attend the Academy. It’s kind of a lot just upping and leaving my whole life, you know? Even if I’m not human, that’s all I’ve ever known…”

  Not that I really had anything to go back to. I was curious about this supposedly strong air magic I had, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to explore my empath ability. I hadn’t forgotten Bryn’s words about influencing people and that idea was terrifying.

  Gwyneira smiled, and her emotions mostly read as respect rather than the irritation I expected. “Indeed, I imagine we have given you much to think about. Perhaps you could commit to a two week trial period? You can leave at any time. You are not a prisoner here. I think it would be beneficial for you to really get involved and get to know the Academy before you make any decisions. What do you think?”

  “I have your word that I can leave?” I was pretty confident that this was a significant fae custom. It had worked to get the second token from Bryn anyway, it still sat heavily in the pocket of my skirt.

  “You have my word that you can leave at any time. We will never detain you here.” Gwyneira reached out her hand, and we shook on it, sincerity striking at my chest as it had with Bryn.

  “You must be exhausted from your journey. Bryn, would you kindly walk Ffion to the dorms? Cabin 47 has been cleared for her use.”

  His irritation chafed my arms again as he reluctantly agreed, staring resolutely at the floor. As we walked out the door, Gwyneira added, “You two are a strong match, highly compatible I’m sure.”

  Bryn’s panic spiked as he stormed off ahead of me into the forest.

  Fi

  Now we were walking, I had a much better view of the campus than I’d had from the carriage. It looked nothing like the large, stately universities I’d often walked past in London. The Academy of Avalon appeared to have been built in the middle of a forest, with as little clearing of trees done as possible. Almost every large tree in sight had a treehouse or two built onto it, connected by swinging rope bridges.

  ‘Treehouse’ was definitely underselling it. They were more like little houses built around the trunks, with branches passing through the walls and ceilings. Please, fairy gods, let me be living in a treehouse.

  There were lanterns dotted along the bridges and on the stoop of each treehouse. The whole forest canopy twinkled, it was really hitting me at that moment that I was somewhere magical.

  On the ground were a collection of small buildings and open-air structures that I assumed were classrooms. They were made of a collection of materials, some wood, some stone, others looked sort of like clay. I could see other paths leading into the forest and I was desperately curious to explore them.

  Bryn marched ahead of me until we approached a cluster of treehouses with a beautiful wooden staircase winding around a tree trunk to the ground. As we neared it, Bryn snagged the arm of a pretty, dainty girl with dusty pink hair who was walking past with a basket of dirty plates and napkins. I clamped down on the urge to grab his hand and either stake my claim or take a swipe at him to punish him for touching her. What the hell is happening to me? Maybe it’s the air here in Avalon? I’d never felt this kind of jealousy and possessiveness. I didn’t even like Bryn.

  “Briallen, this is Ffion,” he said, letting go of her arm now he had her attention and easing the wave of violent anger that had just surged through me. “She’s a new student, just arrived from Albion a couple of hours ago. Assume she knows nothing about anything. Cabin 47. I’ll let you take over from here. See you around, scout.” And with that charming introduction, he stormed off into the night without a look backward. He really was such an asshole.

  Briallen laughed, a musical sound that reminded me of wind chimes. There was something very pixie-like about her. Now my irrational jealousy had passed, I thought we may actually end up getting along. Briallen’s emotions were so warm and fuzzy, I was getting a contact high. Her happiness was potent. It felt like warm sun on my skin, and soft, tingly vibrations that ran over my skin to the tips of my fingers and toes. I resisted the urge to rub against her like a cat.

  “I should have known Bryn would fight the mating pull. Never mind him; he’ll come around. Eventually. As he said, my name is Briallen, Briallen Edan.”

  She smiled brightly, and I couldn’t help but return it even though I was confused as hell about what she’d said about Bryn. I almost asked her to explain — Gwyneira had said something similar — but I suddenly wasn’t sure if I wanted to know. I have enough on my plate what with moving worlds and all, adding in boy complications seemed like a recipe for disaster.

  “Another Edan?” I asked. “My name is Ffion, but most people call me Fi. Nice to meet you, uh, sorry about all this. I hope I didn’t disrupt your evening.”

  “Not to worry, my mate, Leigh, is on guard duty tonight; I just brought him dinner,” she said in her pretty lilting voice, hoisting the basket further up her arm. “And yes, another Edan. Bryn and I are cousins.” Poor girl.

  “So you were visiting Alb
ion? Why would Bryn tell me to assume you know nothing?” she pondered.

  “Not visiting,” I told her. “I grew up there. Bryn showed up a few hours ago and told me I’m a fae and that I can do magic?”

  “You didn’t know you were fae? How is that possible?” Briallen blinked slowly at me, and I felt her shock surging through my gut.

  “I guess I thought I was a strange human?” I laughed. How was this my life?

  “Right, then.” Briallen laughed and clapped her hands together. “Shall I show you to your room to wash up? I can go find you some food from the commons in the meantime. I’ve never traveled between realms, but I imagine it would make you work up an appetite.”

  “That would be amazing,” I said as my stomach grumbled embarrassingly loudly. “Also, perhaps you could help me find some clothes? I don’t want everyone to realize right away that I’m not from around here.” Briallen was wearing a pale blue linen wrap dress that was loose and hung to her knees. Over the top was a bulky, brown woolen cardigan. Like everyone else I’d met in Avalon, she didn’t have shoes. Her blush-colored hair was french braided across her crown and down over one shoulder.

  Briallen smiled kindly. “Of course, your room will be stocked with some basic clothes; I’ll show you.”

  ◆◆◆

  Cabin 47 was a small but beautiful treehouse built above someone else’s. Briallen let me in before disappearing to find me some food and let me explore.

  Apparently, I had the cabin to myself, which was a pleasant surprise. There was a platform either side of the room in the rafters accessible by ladders, that each had a double bed on them. On the main floor, there was a washbasin in the main room and a separate little closet with a toilet and a rain shower head in it, accessible by a couple of stairs.

  The room was comfortably furnished with an antique wardrobe, two cozy armchairs, a wooden desk and some shelves, and a small square table with two chairs. Next to the wardrobe was a heavy wooden chest, which I peeked in and found spare linen and thick woolen blankets. A potbelly stove sat against one wall, next to the armchairs, with an ancient-looking kettle resting on top. There were heavy rugs, gauzy curtains, and pastel-colored patchwork quilts on the beds. The whole place felt homey and perfect.