“You were in that coach when the bomb erupted,” I blurt. “I know you were.” Every bit of my stifled confusion comes spilling out. “Now you’re here, and I get this tightening in my chest.” My skepticism is met with silence. “I can feel you.” My tone grows urgent. “Like a… like a pair of eyes on me from across a room or a cool breeze on the back of my neck. So tell me who you really are, Mara.” I stand slowly from my seat with palms braced against the desk. “Because you’re not a Healer.”
