In a world torn from its Creator, a cranky Seer must survive long enough to save her clan from the grasp of a telepath who would have her gift for himself, no matter who or what stands in his way.
“He is some sort of Mecalle nobility, yes?”
Stunned by the question, Teryk stopped and looked at her. “How could you possibly know that?”
“I am a Seer.” Normally, Chavali said this and people left it be, taking her to be what she said she was. This time, the statement felt a little flat, like she was trying to convince herself as much as him. Really, how could she rightfully call herself that when she hadn’t seen the attack on her clan coming? Why didn’t the spirits tell her it was going to happen? They were supposed to help her protect the clan.
He grabbed her arm where it was covered by her sleeve, not accepting the answer. “No, really. How did you know that?”
Like this, she was actually afraid of him.
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