A shadow passed across Aislinâs expression; beside her, Anders stiffened. âShe⌠doesnât talk-â he began, but Aislin cut him off with a gesture.
âNo, itâs fine,â she said quietly. Turning, she looked Beth straight in the eyes. âI trained at Kinloch Hold,â she said, âbut my specialty is fire. Anything I know of healing magic, Iâve learned here, from Anders.â
Anders stared at Bethany for a moment, then at Aislin. âSo youâll tell a cute girl about your past, but not your mentor?â
âMaybe Iâm just not into blondes,â Aislin shot back dryly. She shook her head. âYouâre a teacher, and a very good one. I wouldnât call you my mentor. Also, your sense of humorâs abysmal.â
âAnd yet, you answered to it,â Anders grinned. âThatâs⌠I do believe thatâs a first.â He turned to Beth. âStick around more often, wonât you? Youâve made more progress on her in five minutes than I have in months.â
Any response Bethany might have given was cut off before it started. Heâd said - cute? Maker have mercy, she must have been at least five shades of red in the face. Not that sheâd ever thought of him that way, what with probably ten years between them, but...oh.
Utterly lost for words, all she could do was nod blankly and turn to focus on Aislin again. There. Thatâs simpler. Not as much to think about, or make sense of...right? Right.
âI canât blame you for not wanting to share,â she managed, feeling stupid. âPeople like us, um, we get used to hiding it. Itâs normal, I think.â
She risked a quick glance and smile in Andersâs direction. âKinloch? In Ferelden? I grew up there - in Lothering. My father taught me at home.â A vague hand gesture accompanied the explanation. âHe trained in the Gallows, but he got away.â