When we got to Tammad’s room we made use of the bathing facilities, then I smeared his wounds with the salve that did such a wonderful job of healing. He was cut just about all over by the leather of that whip, and from the depth of most of the cuts he probably wouldn’t have been walking at all if not for the salve. He made not a single sound as the salve went on, but the sheen of perspiration on his forehead when I was done told the story well enough. We shared a meal—which I insisted on feeding him—and then we shared a nap.
When I awoke Tammad was gone somewhere, but a green gown lay on the furs in his place, one like the silver gown Dallan had given me. I put it on with a great deal of pleasure, sure that it hadn’t been the white-dressed woman who had brought it. She seemed to know how I felt without asking, and wouldn’t have brought me clothing while my head still hurt. I was tired of having that constant headache, and couldn’t help wondering how long it would take to go away. I didn’t care for the thought of going through life with a permanent throb behind my eyes, but also had no intentions of simply lying still until it decided to abandon me. Now that I had clothing, I could divert my attention from it by wandering around the palace.
I was just about ready to concede defeat in my battle with the tie at my right wrist when the door to the room opened, ending the fight in a different way. Len came in with a broad stride that he managed to stop just short of running me down, causing me to jump back with a squeak of surprise before it was clear he did intend stopping. I looked at him with the confusion I felt, wondering why he was frowning, but just staring didn’t get me anywhere.
“If you intend making a habit of entering rooms like that, don’t be surprised when people stop inviting you over,” I said instead. “One more step and this gown would have become carpeting.”
“You really didn’t know I was there, did you?” he asked, staring down at me and sounding as though he were in the middle of a different conversation. “You also didn’t know I intended stopping just short of you. What’s making your head hurt like that?”
“Pain,” I answered suddenly understanding what was happening. “Did you really think I was faking, Len? Do you believe it’s that easy to just close your eyes and pretend to be blind? No, obviously you don’t believe it, or you wouldn’t have expected me to be peeking. Well, sorry to disappoint you, brother, but there’s nothing left to peek with. The only thing I do have left is this headache.”
“Terry, I’m sorry,” he said, and there was tragedy in his eyes as he put out his hand to me. “I guess I was hoping you were faking instead of being convinced of it. Maybe there’s something I can do.”
“You can, but not for me,” I smiled, taking his hand. “Dallan and Tammad are still hurting a lot more than I am, and could use a couple of sessions of pain control. I wish I could do it myself, but I—can’t. ”
“I’ll give it a try, but I’ve never been very good at pain control,” he said as he squeezed my hand. “But first I want a closer look at you and that headache of yours. I’d like to see for myself whether or not I can do anything.”
I briefly considered trying to talk him out of it, then changed my mind with a shrug. Len would not be happy until he’d poked and pried and satisfied himself that nothing could be done, and arguing would just be a waste of time. I led him over to the room’s nest of cushions, we both sat, and he looked down at me with a distracted expression. I knew he was thumbing through my emotions and feelings looking for the faintest hint of a response, but I couldn’t feel a thing. His touch was usually light but very masculine, but I couldn’t detect his presence even with my eyes closed and every nerve in my body straining. It seemed I’d been hoping at least as hard as he had, but sometimes hope is more reflexive than voluntary. I pushed the feeling aside with impatience, and made myself think about something else until Len was through.
“I think I understand now,” Len said at last, taking a deep breath as his eyes came back in focus.
“What do you understand?” I asked, faintly curious. “How the burnout broke the circuit?”
“No,” he answered, still looking sober. “There’s a—gap of sorts where I used to be able to detect your ability, but that’s not what I meant. I think I understand why you aren’t permanently hysterical and half insane.”
“I’ve made myself one hell of a reputation around here, haven’t I?” I sighed at the thought and shook my head. “People notice only when I don’t throw fits.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he repeated, gesturing impatiently. “If I ever suffer burnout, you can be damned well sure I won’t get over it. Not many of us would, but I think I know why you did. ”
“Well, I was a Prime,” I shrugged, feeling uncomfortable. “That has to count for something.”
“It doesn’t count for anything except that you’ve lost more than most other empaths would have,” he disagreed with a headshake. “Have you ever heard the ancient myth about the goddess who fell in love with a mortal? No? Well, the story tells that there was once a goddess who met a mortal man and fell in love with him. He loved her too, but he had a lot of trouble coping with a goddess, in understanding her needs and actions, and with suiting his own actions to hers. The goddess saw the trouble he was having, and knew that if something wasn’t done, their love would die. She couldn’t make him a god, so instead had herself turned into a mortal woman, one he had no trouble coping with. She paid a high price for his love, but afterward they did manage to live happily ever after.”
“Len, are you saying I did this on purpose?” I asked, feeling a tightening all over my body. “Because if you are . . . . ”
“No, no, I know you didn’t do it on purpose,” he interrupted, leaning forward to emphasize the intensity of his words. “I’m trying to say I think you’re glad it happened. It was your empathetic abilities that stood between you and Tammad, and now that they’re gone you’re ready to live happily ever after. I can’t really argue with a viewpoint that has let you keep your sanity, but Terry—Don’t you think you’re selling Tammad short? You’re the one who thinks he can’t cope with an empath, just as you were the only one who didn’t believe he really loved you. I think he could cope—if you ever gave him the chance.”
“Don’t you think this conversation is a waste of time under the current circumstances?” I asked, finding it impossible to lose the stiffness I’d developed. “It doesn’t matter whether Tammad could or couldn’t cope. There’s nothing left for him to cope with.”
“Terry, that’s part of the point I’m trying to make,” he answered gently, taking my hand even though I didn’t want him to. “I know almost nothing about burnout, and I doubt if you know much more. What if your abilities just need encouragement to come back? What if your denial is the only thing keeping them away? They might not be as strong as they once were, but . . . ”
“No!” I shouted, pulling my hand out of his grip. “They’re gone for good and I don’t want them back! Do you hear? I don’t want them back!”
He opened his mouth to say something else, but I didn’t want to hear it. I scrambled to my feet and ran to the door, threw it open, then looked wildly about. Tammad stood in the corridor only ten feet to the right, talking to some men, and he turned in surprise when I ran to him. His arms opened to make a safe place for me as they always did, and I clung to him in an effort to stop the shaking and shuddering that had for some reason descended on me. The throbbing in my head had become a pounding, but I didn’t care as long as I could stand with my cheek to his chest, held in those powerful arms.