It was decided that my cover story was that I was an only child to elderly parents that had died a few months prior. My magical ability was sporadic premonitions, and even those I couldn't control. Faolán had explained that while every human in this realm was magic to some degree, many only had the skill for basic spells, telepathy, or divination. Magic could be almost minuscule in a person, but it would never truly fade. Mind magic, like premonitions and divination, were the hardest to disprove without a full mental examination. Since I had no magic to prove, it was the most logical route to protect my identity.

Faolán had also been charged with finding me some sort of weapon that would not be as noticeable as my gun. Sword fighting was not my thing, and I did not have any skills with a bow. Crossbows, though, I could handle with decent skill. I wasn't an expert, but I was learning.

The shopping spree had secured me two traveling outfits, some lightweight leather armor enchanted to block basic arrows and daggers, traveling packs, a small sword, a crossbow and bolts, and a new sheath for the hunting knife I had brought. I had been against spending so much, but Faolán insisted that it would be extremely odd for me to not have at least that and blend in with their groups.

While I did enjoy exploring the ever-growing camp on my own, having one of my new acquaintances as company made it better. But… I was just too nervous to ask for company. Belenus did his best to be a good host to me, but his duty as leader meant he was often deep in strategy councils or conferring with other realms about the possibility of reinforcements. So, when I did see him, it was either at the tent for a meal or in the evenings when I was getting ready to sleep.

On the other hand, Faolán seemed to have plenty of time for me, and I wasn't sure if that made me feel more or less comfortable. In the mornings, when Belenus would leave, Faolán would wait for me to change and then walk with me to get breakfast. After that, he would offer to escort me around, and normally, I turned him down. Around noon, he would find me wherever I was eating and ask again if I would like company.

The first time resulted in the shopping trip, and the second time I had turned him away because I was feeling like a burden, almost a bother. I didn't want to annoy or irritate my companions so soon into my stay at their camp. The third time he walked me around and tried to teach me about the various crests on banners and armor before again trying to help me learn to fight with a sword.

Spoiler alert: I was a lost cause. I didn't have the strength or stamina to do much except get knocked on my butt.

On the fourth day, though, my sore muscles combined with the homesickness that had been building within me, and I found myself completely avoiding everyone. The same old thought patterns of "everyone is only being nice to me because they have to. I bet in private they talk bad about me" had resurfaced. It had been that way so often in my life from family to coworkers. Sometimes I wondered about Owen and Robert the same way too, though I'd never asked.

So, one afternoon with my journal in hand, I selected a spot between a tree and a bush that overlooked the archery field to watch the training while I tried to collect my thoughts and write the beginnings of my adventures. I thought I was in a good hiding spot, and it also served to block me from the chilly wind. However, I had only managed to write about two-pages worth of my experiences before a shadow fell over me. I didn't have to look up from my pages to see the leather boots before the scent of crushed pine needles and a forest storm filled the air disturbed by the newcomer's presence.

"You're blocking my view, Lord Faolán," I said primly. I closed my journal, using my pen as a bookmark, and he settled gracefully beside me in the shade.

"You were not at our normal tent for lunch," he stated softly, and I tried not to smile when he offered me what looked like a sandwich wrapped in a cloth. "I was worried about you." His normally even and polite voice had a tone of gentle concern to it that made me want to look fully into his face. He wasn't looking at me though. His emerald gaze scanned the archers below us, and I hurried to look down at my food before he could see me observing him. "Are you feeling ill?" he asked.

"Not really," I replied, unwrapping my sandwich, pleased that he'd remembered I preferred white meat. "I just didn't want to bother you or Belenus. I thought I'd stay out of the way and try to write in my journal." Wishing I had not already emptied my waterskin, I took a bite. I chewed slowly, but my discomfort must have been noticeable because Faolán passed me his.

"Have I given you reason to believe you are a bother, Lady Grace?" Faolán asked. He combed three strands of grass apart between us. "Because, if I have, I would like to apologize. I find your company refreshing and enjoyable." Finally, he turned his head to look at me. In all my years of reading fantasy books and watching the movies, I had never seen or imagined an expression on an elf like the one he wore. I didn't have a word for it. It looked like contrition mixed with anxiety and uncertainty.

"No, of course not. I just-" I paused and took a breath to find my words. "Sometimes I feel like I'm annoying to people, I guess," I said and tried to shrug as nonchalantly as possible before taking another bite. Attempts to explain this to people back home had always been so hard. I had basically given up trying to make people understand that felt like I was a burden.

You know he is only here out of duty. He doesn't actually enjoy your company, my inner voice sneered. If my anxiety wasn't already in control for the day, ignoring it would have been easier.

"You haven't done anything to make me feel that way, I promise," I said after swallowing my food. He didn't look convinced. "And I've told you, already. Call me Grace."

"I've told you to call me Faolán," he said with a slight smirk. The smirk dissolved into a soft smile again. "What if I swore to tell you if you were bothering me? Would that help?"

"What if you dropped the proper grammar and spoke to me like you speak to Belenus when you think I'm asleep?" I teased, not wanting to guilt him into a promise just to ease my own self-doubt. "I'm not some foreign dignitary or something. You can be casual around me."

"What I'm hearing is that you wish for me to treat you as I would anyone whom I consider a close friend," he said. A guilty grin pulled at his lips when he looked back out over the archers below.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," I said before taking another bite of my sandwich.

"I can do that," Faolán said. He fell back, reclining half on his side, propped up by an elbow. "I would have before, but every time I touched you, you would break the contact within seconds. I assumed you didn't want to be so casual." I continued to chew my last bite of sandwich in hopes that my confused expression would prompt him to explain further. "Well, you already know everyone in Aranthem has some level of telepathy." I nodded and uncapped the wine skin again. I had been assured it was illegal for non-consensual telepathy to occur, and Faolán himself had taught me the sensation of my mind being breached. It felt like a tickle between and behind my eyes. I took a drink as he continued.

"Well, we can also sense emotions when we're touching, even through gloves or clothes," Faolán said and lifted a hand to hold it over my knee. "Close friends, lovers, and family members almost always have some form of physical touch occuring when in public or in small groups. It helps us better respond to those we care about." He pulled his hand away without touching me. 

My ears burned in understanding that I had unintentionally created my own conundrum in our friendship. So I said, "I wasn't trying to break contact." I recapped the wine skin, setting it aside to turn and face him fully. "I just," I said and sighed at my own stupidity. "You and Belenus were being so free with your, um, touching. I'm not used to that being a platonic thing." My smile was meant to be apologetic, but I doubted it was. My mind had already gone on a question tangent. "I'm not telepathic. I won't be able to sense you."

"You can if I establish a connection when we touch, just like you were able to read my thoughts when I initiated contact to teach you to detect telepathy," Faolán explained. He pushed himself up and extended a hand. "I won't be able to read your thoughts, promise." I have to admit now, that I more than preferred how his voice relaxed when he dropped into his casual tone. I took his hand, not lacing our fingers. "Just feel," he said gently.

"'Kay," I said and relaxed as much as I could. Like the sensation of a breeze on my mind, I felt Faolán. Just to test if he was really reading my emotions and not my thoughts, I imagined him in a clown wig. He didn't laugh or make a face.

"You're sarcastically amused," he said, his voice a bit curious but pleased. Those green eyes flicked between mine, and a giggle escaped from my mouth. "Now your turn."

I tried to relax my mind, which honestly didn't make sense no matter how much I tried when he was teaching me how to feel others in my thoughts. Then, I felt something foreign touch me with a breezy sensation, and I knew it was his inner being. It was like the sense of curious affection I felt when I began connecting with a character in a new book. I released his hand not sure I wanted him to know that what I sensed made me anxious.

"You do find me interesting and enjoy my company," I said, and I knew I sounded as surprised as I felt.

"I told you I did," he said. Faolán dropped once again to recline on his elbows and tilted his head back, letting the sun that had just broken through the branches overhead light up his face. "We don't have to always share our emotions if it unsettles you."

"It takes some getting used to," I said and turned my attention back out to the archery field.

Just wait until you're emotion sharing and he figures out how insignificant your emotions are, my snide inner voice huffed. I shoved it aside to focus on the cloth in my lap. I folded it, intending to pass it back to him.

"It doesn't take an empathic bond to see that your thoughts are troubling you." Faolán spoke gently, and he wasn't even looking at me when I snapped my gaze to him. He was still basking in the beam of sunlight.

"The stories all said elves are emotionally reserved and keep their thoughts and opinions guarded," I snorted in response. Then I dropped the cloth on his face to show my annoyance at his perceptiveness.

"If you ask to be treated as a close friend or family, you will get it," he chuckled and blew the cloth from his face. "Would you like to talk about-" He cut himself off, and I found my already forming insult silenced by his squint into the distance. "We're about to be interrupted," he said. He rose gracefully, taking me off guard at how quick he got to his feet. "Look."

"Belenus," I said, spotting the prince coming out of the tent line. Faolán offered me his hand. I took it, and he helped me to my feet. "He does not look happy."

"His mind is most definitely troubled," Faolán replied, and he didn't release my hand as he led me down the hill towards his nephew. He wasn't initiating the emotional sharing, though, and I was glad. I did not want him to feel how anxious I was.