Page 21 of A Healer's Wrath

“I’m afraid this is only the beginning,” Master Rist said with fatherly concern.

I looked up into his kind eyes and nodded but couldn’t find the strength to speak. The morrow would come too soon and would likely bring an even longer line.

“Sleep in tomorrow,” Rist said. “Before she left, Kelså warned me using magic would tax your body and mind. The others and I will take the first patients who arrive. If an urgent case beyond our skill arrives, we’ll wake you.” When I didn’t reply, he laid a hand on my shoulder. “Irina, are you all right?”

It took a moment to gather my thoughts. “I’m not supposed to be the one with the greater skill here—not yet. I had hoped to grow into that one day, but years from now.” My voice sounded small as I continued. “Master, what am I becoming? I mean . . . I’ve always wanted to be a physiker. It’s all I’ve ever wanted, but this is all so much bigger, so much more . . .”

“Irina, listen to me. You are becoming who you were meant to be.” He kneeled and gripped my hands, raising them to his lips for a gentle kiss. “Whether you become a good Healer or the greatest of our time, only the future can tell. Trust your training and trust your heart. Look into the eyes of each patient and know you are making a difference, one person at a time. If you do that, this might not feel so big anymore.”

I offered a weak smile. I wasn’t sure I felt any relief, but I knew he was right.

What else could I do?

I thought back to the patients I’d Healed that day: an old man with trouble breathing, a woman with stomach pain, small children with simple coughs and runny noses that wouldn’t stop. Patients and loved ones entered with fear, wonder, and a hint of hope in their eyes. They left whole, with gratitude and joy in their hearts.

I’d given them that. I’d Healed them. More than just Healing, I’d granted them relief from pain and a sense of peace.

It’s what I’d always dreamed Healing could be, what it should be.

Why does it frighten me so?

“Thank you.” I kissed the Master’s hands as he’d done mine, then stood and nodded. “I’m a little overwhelmed, and very tired. I think I’ll take you up on that extra rest.”

The months that followed were a blur.

Word spread far quicker than I expected, then exploded further when the local newsmen realized my story would sell papers. I became a staple of the front page, as they described in detail—often exaggerated detail—the latest patients saved by the “Miracle Healer.”

That was the nickname the papers chose. Others floating about included the “Living Spirit” and the “People’s Mage.”

I loathed them all.

“Healer” was the only title I sought.

I tried to shut out the noise and see only the person before me, but those around me wouldn’t do the same.

When the royal family became enamored, I knew life would never be simple again.

I was invited to the Palace for an audience with the King and Queen. Her Majesty insisted on throwing a ball in my honor, allowing the Kingdom’s nobility to meet their most prominent apprentice in person and help my efforts.

My efforts.

When had this become about me? As much as I tried to redirect the Queen’s favor onto Master Rist, she would have none of it. The Crown had a prize in its sights and would not be deterred.

Was I to become another jewel to them? Was my Healing?

I loved the gift magic had given; and yet, each day brought greater fame and felt more overwhelming than the last.

The Master took it all in stride. Never once did he show resentment or even a hint of annoyance that mine was now the sun and his was the shadow. While treating patients, I respected his role as my Master, and he treated me as he did the other apprentices. If anything, Master Rist and I grew closer. He was one of the few who saw . . . who understood.

Half a year passed before I saw another Mage. Kelså had left with a warm embrace, but with no timeline for her return. I had begun to think the Mages would let me finish my apprenticeship before shouldering me with more magical responsibilities.

How wrong I was.

I returned home for a weekend of escape with my parents. The public—even the newsmen—respected my boundaries when at home. Only the rare, serious case above my parents’ abilities called me into service while in my family’s house, and I cherished my time with them more than ever.

Father and I rocked in chairs on the porch and chatted quietly as three Mages in long blue robes approached. I felt them arrive before I ever saw them approach the porch.

Mages respected no boundaries.