Chapter 28

"We?"

"Right." Wil sighed. "Fine. Me. The Aisling." He couldn't suppress a shudder. He hadn't said that word in reference to himself for longer than he could remember. "And when you do meddle and change, it... it *hurts*."

"Hurts how?"

Wil looked away. "I can't explain it--it hurts your *mind* like a bruise inside your Self, like... like a tear in your soul...." He closed his eyes, pressed his fingers into them, realized too late that it was a mistake and pulled them back with a hiss. "Siofra--he discovered that he could...." Wil peered up at Brayden, pleading. "I was too young and I was *sick*, and, and *drugged* and I didn't... couldn't--"

"You were six years old, you were sick and full of dreamleaf," Brayden offered evenly. "Don't apologize before you've even confessed--it wasn't your fault. Just go on, get it done."