Not For You

“Is what true?” Brenna’s hands stilled.

Ciaran met her gaze tentatively. “That you can see people who are...dead.”

“It’s true if you’ve the power,” Brenna said. “Who is it that you want to see?”

Ciaran glanced over his shoulder; the other lads were busy flirting with the girls who’d come to buy wool. He turned back to Brenna; she had to be foreign, with that skin and those eyes. “My mother,” he said. “She died when I was just a baby.”

Something unreadable crossed Brenna’s face. “I’m sorry - I cannot help you.”

“Then it’s not true.”

“Not for you.”