Of Thorn and Thread (Daughters of Eville #4) - Chanda Hahn Page 0,22

against every single fiber of my being. I was the chatty one, I could hardly keep a secret, and I loved pulling conversations from my sister’s thoughts.

It wasn’t the same with Liam. He had a strong mental wall, and he hid his emotions and thoughts well. When a thought did escape his mental grasp, it jarred me or made me uncomfortable, like getting pricked by a cactus.

The transport’s wheels bounced over gravel, but soon the road turned to brick, and the horses’ hooves clipped gracefully along. I leaned forward and looked out the window and worried.

We were heading into a small city.

“What city is this?” I asked warily.

“It’s Hinsburg.”

“I don’t understand. I don’t want to stop in Hinsburg. I asked to go to Thressia.” My voice rose, as did my panic. The closer we came to the city, the louder the thoughts of the people became. First like gnats that annoyed me, then the pressure became greater, like a constant buzz. I grimaced and covered my ears as if to keep out the thoughts, but they only became more painful. The population was far greater than Nihill.

The pain became unbearable, and I ground my teeth.

“Aura, what’s the matter?”

I struggled to breathe as I heard the cries of the children that were hungry. A woman being beaten by her husband. A lost child, a thief accosting an old woman. It wasn’t the few hundred of my town, but thousands of people.

“Aura.” Liam grasped my elbow.

Lorn was right. I wasn’t strong enough. I shouldn’t have left home. “I’m fine,” I groaned, trying to retreat further into my mind to block them out.

“No, you’re not.”

“I am.” I shook and sweat beaded across my brow. The transport stopped in front of a shop, but I dared not leave. I collapsed on my bench seat and buried my head in the thin padded cushion.

“Tell me what’s going on?” Liam begged. Flashes of blue signaled his worry.

“There’s too many. It’s too overwhelming. I can’t shut them out,” I cried.

He reached for me, but I pushed him away. I couldn’t stand to be touched when overcome with an empathetic state. My sisters learned that lesson long ago, and usually would tuck me in with a blanket and give me tea. “Don’t touch me,” I commanded.

“No,” he growled and pulled me into a hug. His arms wrapped around me, and he pressed my forehead into his chest. I waited for the onslaught of his emotions to hit me like a hammer coupled with the thousand-voice orchestra of the city, but they were slowly fading away.

I stopped struggling. Somehow Liam was canceling out my empathy. The ringing in my ears disappeared. I listened to the sound of his breathing, even and calm. He was an anchor in a storm of mental anguish.

“How d’you do that?” I breathed out.

“Do what?” His soulful eyes searched my face.

“Make the voices stop?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know what was happening to you. My only thought was to protect you.” He pulled back and brushed a stray hair from my face.

And that’s when I saw how beautiful and bright he was. Blinding white with his need to protect. It was his own magic that showed up and protected me. He became a shield when I needed it most.

“Your magic is beautiful,” I whispered.

He frowned and shook his head. “I don’t have magic.”

“You’re wrong. You have defensive magic. By touching me, you shielded me and made”—I waved my hand in the air dismissively—“the bad stuff disappear. You do have powerful magic. Untrained, but strong. I think it’s your determination of will, that desire to protect, that strengthens your magic.”

He cleared his throat and looked away. “That’s what I swore to do. Protect you until you get to Rya.”

I nodded and turned in my seat to glance out the window to see where we stopped. It was a dress shop. My brows furrowed, and I looked at Liam in confusion. “What are we doing?”

“Getting you clothes. I don’t assume you want to continue traveling to Rya in your nightgown.”

My cheeks burned. “No.”

“Then let’s go.” He pulled away and stepped out of the transport. He extended his hand to help me down. When he released my hand, the buzzing of the voices returned. He took his red cloak and wrapped it around my shoulders, covering my dirty dress. Thankfully, his own thoughts were shielded as we stepped through the door into Cora’s Fine Clothing.

A chipper woman with red curls piled on her head and wearing a