Page 34 of Tangled Sails

His face fell. “Why won’t you tell me?”

How could I explain it? “You won’t like it.”

“Of course I won’t. Whatever excuse your aunt came up with will—”

“Not her. Me.”

Two parallel creases appeared between his brows as they squished together. “You what?”

“I don’t want you to think less of me,” I admitted, realizing just how much I’d grown to cherish and depend on his friendship. “I’m afraid you won’t trust me.”

He went a bit pale. “Lyri, you’re making me think the worst. Please just tell me.”

“What would be the worst?” Would he say magic?

His lips pressed in frustration. “Did you hurt people?”

I almost laughed at that. “No.”

“Are you here to hurt or manipulate me or my family?”

“Of course not.”

He lifted his hands from his sides. “Then I can’t think of anything else.”

I studied him, confused that he hadn’t thought to mention magic. Every story I’d been told about the world outside of Branfrie was that they feared and hated magic and anyone who wielded it. Had that been lies? Or maybe things had changed over the years. He’d spoken of the mermaids without fear, and surely mermaids were synonymous with magic.

The sincerity in his eyes tugged at me, begging me to let him in, to give him the chance to actually know me. I took a deep breath—and told him the truth. “My aunt was protecting my gift.”

I could see his surprise. “What gift?”

There was no going back now, but even though I wanted him to know, my voice still trembled. “I could heal people.” The confession was barely a whisper as fear coiled tighter inside me.

He seemed bewildered by my confession, like it was of no consequence. “You had a talent for healing?”

I chewed on my lip a bit, frustrated that he wasn’t getting it. “It was more than that. I didn’t heal with herbs and knowledge.”

“Then what did you use?”

I licked my lips and tilted my chin up, gathering my courage. “Magic.”

A small breath hissed through his lips and I held my breath. “Magic?” He blinked, his mouth hanging open, looking at me with both skepticism and awe. “You have experience with real magic?”

His lack of anger or fear was a comfort, and I nodded.

He opened his mouth, but I’d left him speechless, apparently.

I hurried to explain, hoping that the more he knew, the more he’d understand. “When I was nine, I gained the ability to heal, but only through my hair, and only if it was never cut.”

“You can heal?”

“I could.” I looked down at my hair that hung only to my elbows and then back at him. “Not anymore.”

His eyes grazed over what remained of my hair. “I took your magic from you?” he asked in a raw whisper.

I nodded.

I thought perhaps this piece would make him feel better. Yes, I’d had magic, but I didn’t anymore. If he feared magic, that should have been a comfort. Instead he looked devastated as he said, “I’m so sorry.”