Amryn cringed, clearly following his thoughts. “I don’t see how the knights could be empaths, but . . . I suppose anything is possible. Empathy runs in families, and being a knight is often a family legacy, isn’t it?”
Carver nodded, immediately thinking of Rivard, a man who had once been his friend—and who had died in Esperance at Tam’s hand. Rivard’s father and two older brothers were all knights. Rivard had trained hard and dreamed of following in their footsteps, but he’d ultimately been denied entry into the Order. That rejection had driven Rivard tosonne, the drug he’d later introduced to Berron.
“Can empaths sense other empaths?” he asked Amryn.
“No.” She frowned. “At least, not every empath can. My mother said some empaths have that particular gift.”
Determination to understand her world made him lean forward. “Empaths have different gifts, then. Like your healing. And there are various degrees of strength, right?” he asked, thinking of her brother.
“Yes.” Amryn hesitated, as if trying to find the right words. “There are many things I don’t know about empaths. I only really know what my mother shared with me. But I know some empaths can barely discern the emotions of those around them, while others are immensely powerful. I think I’m somewhere in the middle.”
His eyes widened. Amryn, who could physically feel the emotions of those around her—and heal grievous wounds—wassomewhere in the middle?
Her head tipped to the side as she studied him. “That surprises you.”
“Yes,” he said, though it hadn’t really been a question. She’dfelthis surprise, after all. It was still a little unsettling to know she could feel everything he felt. It put him at a bit of a disadvantage, and that wasn’t something he was comfortable with. Still, honesty was in every word as he said, “The power you wield is incredible, Amryn.Youare incredible.”
Color suffused her cheeks. Since he didn’t have her gifts, he didn’t know if she flushed due to pleasure, or if she was just self-conscious. Maybe it was a mixture of both, because she whispered, “Thank you.” She scratched a spot on her cheek, her eyes falling from his. “There’s a lot I don’t know about empaths, but my mother explained it this way: every person has the ability to be empathic. Even you, Carver.”
He snorted. “Pretty sure I’m not an empath.”
The corner of her mouth lifted. “Not in the way that I am, no. You might call it intuition. Haven’t you ever walked into a room andfeltthe energy of it? Whether the people standing there were happy, or sad, or mad?”
He frowned, leaning back in his chair. “Yes, but it’s not like I’m truly sensing their emotions. Their expression or demeanor might give them away. That’s not empathy, it’s observation.”
“Perhaps. But why couldn’t there be an element of both?”
He shrugged, then said, “Maybe that’s what the knights have. Just a small amount of empathic intuition.” And maybe Rivard hadn’t had it, and that’s why he’d failed his trial to become a knight. He certainly hadn’t been able to sense the danger in Tam when his wife had decided to kill him.
“Maybe,” Amryn allowed. “But while everyone has some empathic ability, the people gifted with actual empathic magic fall into three main types. The first arethose who can discern the emotions of others. The second are those who actually feel those emotions.”
“Like you.”
“Yes. Empaths who can actually experience the emotions of others often manifest other abilities as well. It’s tied to what we feel, I think; when we feel someone’s pain, it connects us somehow. That’s why we can often do more than the lower-level empaths, since they don’t have that same level of connection.”
“Like your healing ability.”
“Yes.”
It still bothered him that he’d never known empaths could heal. Amryn had alluded to the fact that the church and the emperor had hidden many things over the years because they needed people to fear empaths.
“I have the ability to heal,” Amryn said, “But other empaths like me possess other abilities.”
Curiosity filled him. “What sorts of abilities?”
“Some empaths can sense the emotions of animals. Some, according to my mother, can even communicate with them.”
Carver stared. “They can . . . talk to animals?”
The corner of her mouth twitched up. “After everything you know now,thatseems hard to believe?”
She had a point. Saints, she could put her hand on someone and heal a wound that would otherwise kill them. Communicating with animals certainly seemed less impossible. He thought of the dogs his family had had through the years, including the little mutt his youngest brother Fowler loved so much, and the horses Carver had personally trained and ridden into battle. They were all intelligent creatures, and though he’d neverspokento them, he had to admit they’d communicated on some level.
“If it helps,” Amryn said, amusement threading in her voice, “I don’t think they have actual conversations with the animals. My mother knew one such gifted empath, and apparently it’s more about impressions than actual words.”
“It’s all rather fantastical.”
“It is.” She lifted her glass of wine and took a sip.
