“You should let Havil look at you,” Torran said, his voice quiet.
“I’m fine, I just did too much this afternoon, and I don’t bounce back as easily as I once did. There’s nothing he can do about that.” I paused and dropped my arms. “Is it possible for me to shield pain so he can’t sense it?”
Torran stared at me for long enough that I figured he wasn’t going to answer. I mentally shrugged. It was worth a shot.
“It’s possible,” he said at last.
I leaned against the counter and waited, but he didn’t elaborate. “Will you tell me how to do it? I don’t want Havil to have to suffer just because I’ve overdone it.”
“Havil’s job is to monitor the team, but if he needs to, he can shield far more easily than you.”
“When he was working on my knee, he told me it would take more energy to shield from the pain than it would to fix it.”
Torran smiled faintly. “I believe he may have stretched the truth in order to secure your cooperation. Empaths have some of the strongest and most complex shields I’ve ever seen. They have to or they don’t survive long.”
“But if his job is to monitor the team—which is a subject we will definitely be returning to—then he’s not going to shield, so I should still learn how.”
Torran stepped closer and his gaze swept across my face. My stomach clenched with a combination of desire and wariness, but he merely said, “You want me to make you a more dangerous enemy.”
“I want you to make me a more dangerous ally,” I corrected. “We’re only a few hours away from Valovian space. On the off chance that your offer is real and not just a thin ruse to lure me and my team to our untimely ends, it would be better if every Valoff we meet can’t read my thoughts and tell when I’m hurt. You said my shields are shit. Help me make them better. Or at least let Havil do it.”
I’d already approached the other Valoffs over the past few days, but they’d all gently demurred when I’d tried to broach the subject with them. Torran was my last chance. I probably should’ve started with him, but I hated showing him my soft underbelly.
Still, it would be far better to learn what I could before we landed.
Torran continued to stare at me for a long moment, then he dipped his chin. “Very well. But I will have to touch your mind to help you. Will you allow it?”
I couldn’t help the grimace that wrinkled my nose. Admitting my shields were shit was far different from having him poke at them—and my thoughts. “Can’t you just explain what I need to do?”
“Could you explain how to fly Starlight to a civilian who had never seen a ship before?”
I tilted my head and considered it. “Well, maybe with autopilot and a wide-open space. But I understand what you’re saying, even if I don’t like it. Will you give me your word that you’ll stay out of my thoughts?”
“I will likely hear your surface thoughts while I’m examining your shield, but I won’t try to delve deeper than that, and I will give you warning before I begin. When I do, start mentally naming everything you can see in the room. The more specific, the better.”
“Is that effective?”
“Effective enough.”
I filed that away for future reference. I wasn’t sure how thrilled the others would be to have a Valovian general poking around in their heads, so I would have to teach them what I learned.
Torran gestured at the table. “Shall we sit?”
My stomach tied itself in knots. This had seemed like a much better idea a few seconds ago when it was just theoretical. Maybe Torran’s plan all along had been to get me to lower my guard so he could pry into my thoughts.
Bitter fear coated the back of my tongue.
“We don’t have to do this today,” Torran said, his tone surprisingly gentle.
“I’m okay,” I lied. I moved to my normal seat at the table before I could talk myself out of it. This was likely the only time in my life that a Valoff would help me learn how to defend against other Valoffs, and my team counted on me to keep them safe. I couldn’t chicken out.
Torran sat across from me, his expression serious. The colorful streaks in his dark eyes glinted in the overhead lights. The silver had expanded when he’d threatened me because of Luna. Would the colors shift when he used his ability this time or was it driven by emotion?
“Are you ready?” he asked. When I nodded, he continued, “Build your shield as you usually do.”
“Done.”
“Start naming things. If you want me to stop, just say so.”
I pressed my fingers against the table and started mentally naming things. Table. Table with a scratched black composite top. Chair— The cool brush of Torran’s mind distracted me, and I faltered. Torran. A dozen thoughts flashed through my head.
I curled my fingers into a fist until my knuckles turned white. Pale hands on a composite table. Lightweight composite chair. Walk-in cooler with a silver door.
“I am finished,” Torran said a few seconds later.
I’d been so busy ignoring him that I’d forgotten to check his eyes. A peek revealed that they looked normal now.
“Your shield is decent for a human,” he said. “I caught only a few thoughts. But it won’t stand up to someone determined.”
I tried not to worry about what thoughts he might have glimpsed. “How do I make it stronger?”
“Valovian children learn to shield instinctively. Your shield reminds me of a child’s. Did someone teach you or did you learn on your own?”
I’d learned during the war because it was that or die. Without shields, a mediocre telepath could make you see things that weren’t there. A strong telepath could make you turn your weapon on yourself or your allies, all while thinking your behavior was completely normal.
I’d watched more than one soldier fall to friendly fire while the shooter smiled.
I focused on the pressure of my fist against the table so the memories would stay dormant. Command had produced dozens of training videos, but none of them had worked as well as brutal experience.
“I learned on my own,” I said, my tone flat and distant.
Torran nodded, as if he’d expected that answer. “How do you construct your shield?”
Heat bloomed in my cheeks. I had no idea how Valoffs protected their minds, but I doubted it would be as silly as how I did it. I swallowed my pride and said, “I imagine donning an armored helmet.” I’d tried imagining many things—walls, bubbles, shiny shields, mountains—and the helmet was the only thing that reliably worked for me.
Torran’s mouth quirked, but he was smart enough not to laugh.
“What do you do?” I asked. If I was going to open myself up to ridicule, it was only fair that he did the same.
“It’s different for me, because my brain works differently. But at a simple level, I build overlapping nets, with each layer allowing certain things through and blocking specific threats.”
“So you can communicate telepathically without others being able to read your thoughts?”