12
A Face of the Past
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E
wan jumped up from the chair and hurriedly wiped the sleep from his eyes. He could hear cries outside and every so often, the loud thud and crash of the trebuchets. He saw Áinle was awake. The boy was sitting up in the bed with his back against the wall. His book was open, and he was slowly flipping through the pages.
“Are you all right?” Ewan asked as he put on his armor.
“I’m fine,” Áinle answered.
“You had me worried last night.”
“The spell was stronger than I anticipated,” Áinle said with a shrug. “It’s not the first time.”
“Well … I’m glad you’re in good health. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”
“Why?” Áinle asked, looking up from his book.
Ewan didn’t really know what to say. He couldn’t tell the boy the truth. No, that would hur
