she thought, extending brittle tendrils of thought toward his consciousness. Her mindspeaking ability was rusty from disuse. A dull ache surfaced in the center of her brain.
“Are you hearing anything I’m saying?” he asked. When Keriya shook her head, a faint frown darkened his features. “Try to imagine your thoughts as an arrow, and send that arrow toward my parietal lobe,” —he tapped the back left side of his skull— “which is the part of the brain that processes words and hearing.”
Keriya did as he instructed and her headache intensified. Had it always been this hard? She had once shared someone else’s thoughts, hadn’t she? And hadn’t they felt as familiar as her own?
Sorrow stabbed at her heart. To stave off the panic that gripped her whenever she strayed too close to a bad memory, sh
