Chapter Twenty-Two
Isla sat across from Harold, his sharp eyes studying her. She was alone in his office now; the others had already left. Earlier that morning, he had met with her, Andrew, Juliette, and Edmund, listening intently as they gave their account of the night before.
Edmund, ever efficient despite the dark shadows beneath his eyes, had also shared his findings.
Somehow, between the chaos of the rescue and the early hours of dawn, he had managed to investigate the cottage where Isla had been held captive.
It turned out to be part of Lady Beatrice Hatherleigh’s estate.
How he’d found the time or energy, Isla couldn’t imagine.
According to Edmund, Lady Beatrice had been horrified to learn that one of her empty cottages had been used for such criminal purposes.
She’d assured the university that she would immediately notify them of any unusual activity on her land in the future.
A bouquet of hothouse flowers had already arrived at the college for Isla, accompanied by a delicate handwritten note expressing the lady’s “deep concern and sincerest wishes for a swift recovery.”
Harold drew in a slow breath, his expression suggesting he was about to raise a subject she wouldn’t like.
“Isla, I can’t tell you how sorry I am. It seems every time I say those words, matters only grow worse.”
Isla met his gaze. “I fear they may grow worse still if we can’t discover who’s behind all this.”
He nodded gravely. “Agreed. But if you’re determined to stay involved, I want you to improve your Aetheric skills. Your training—your control, your understanding—needs to be a priority.”
She exhaled, tension easing from her shoulders. “That I can do.”
“You know,” he said, his tone gentle, “it can be a beautiful thing—for Aqua Summoners to see the past lingering in the air, to have the ability to see old memories.”
Isla stiffened, the memory of the night before flashing through her mind: the violation of having someone pry through her private memories, twisting her past pain into a weapon.
Harold sensed her unease. “It was an unforgivable act, what they did,” he said quietly. “An intrusion no one should suffer. But don’t let that make you fear the gift itself—or others who share it.”
Did he think she would be hostile toward Aqua Summoners now? To Andrew? Or more hostile than she had been to him in the past? She thought of him then—his steadiness, the way he had shielded her with his own body. “I won’t,” she said softly. “Our gifts don’t define us—our actions do.”
Harold smiled. “A wise observation. You know, I met my wife through her abilities.”
Isla blinked, surprised. “Truly?”
“Oh yes,” he said, the corners of his mouth quirking. “We’re Fated, she and I—the love of many lifetimes. Though she insists on whipping me into shape in each one.”
Isla laughed. “This whole idea of Fated love still feels strange to me.”
He leaned back, eyes twinkling. “Strange? Perhaps. But so did it seem strange when the first Englishman experienced a hot beach for the first time. Imagine it—sand that burns your feet and water warm enough to swim in! The unfamiliar only feels strange until it becomes known. Love—true love—is much the same. We must never grow complacent about it, but we can allow it to feel like a gift rather than fear the unknown.”
It was oddly comforting, talking about love with her superior. Isla had always known Harold had a happy family life, but hearing him speak of it made him seem more human.
A thought struck her. “Do Fated Aetherians look the same each time they are reborn?” Was she really asking that question as if it was a possibility?
“They do not return as exact copies. They share subtle echoes—eye color, familiar gestures, the same elemental affinity, a feeling of déjà vu when they meet each other. As they get to know one another, it’s as though their souls recognize each other, despite the changes.”
“And their names?”
“Names shift with the ages,” he said. “Once, they may have been Auren and Lyra; centuries later, Orin and Lira. The essence remains even if the spellings change.”
She nodded slowly. “Juliette has shared her opinions about Fated couples, but don’t you find it odd that so many of my friends—and you—are Fated?”
“That does not surprise me at all,” Harold said warmly.
“If we are blessed to become Aetherians, and we have the heart to love with all our might, then it shouldn’t be limited to a handful of people.
There are many good people in the world, Isla, despite you unfortunately meeting a few who aren’t.
The fact that so many of your friends and others are Fated is evidence that goodness still exists in humanity and that you have a wonderful, loving group of friends. ”
Isla nodded slowly, taking in his words.
He paused, and his tone turned practical once more. “Now, as I said, I want you to focus on your training. But after what you’ve endured, I also want you to heal—not just physically, but here.” He tapped his temple.
She eyed him warily. “Heal ... how?”
“Through service, for one. I’d like you to spend some time at the hospital—to learn how to use your gifts to ease others’ pain. When we serve, we often find our own burdens lightened.”
That, she didn’t mind. She even liked the sound of it.
“And,” he continued, “I’d like you to receive some emotional help—for your mind.”
That, she liked less. Isla bristled. “I’ll be fine.”
“I’ve no doubt you will,” he said mildly. “But perhaps I can help you be more fine. And before you protest, you’re not the only one I’ve made the offer to. Juliette already sees a friend of mine weekly.”
“She does?”
He nodded. “I share this with you with her permission, as she knew you would resist my offer.”
Isla huffed. Her friend knew her too well.
“My friend Susan is a Ventus Summoner—a gifted listener who can offer counseling. Furthermore, with consent, she can also send gentle emotional echoes to help regulate feelings. It’s rather like easing a fever, but for the mind.”
Isla frowned. “I thought influencing emotions was illegal.”
“It is,” he agreed, “if done without consent, or for manipulation and without permission from the government. She is a registered therapist and often helps Aetherians who need support. With permission—and for healing—it’s an emerging branch of Aetheric practice that’s having great success.
The mind deserves care as much as the body.
I wish non-Aetherians would take up the practice.
Conversation, meditation, positive influences .
.. they all matter. Isla, I know you prefer to shoulder things alone.
You can, if you wish. But you don’t have to. ”
She wanted to refuse—to pull back, to go it alone. But last night had shown her she didn’t want to do things alone anymore. Leaning on others didn’t make her weak; it made her human. Leaning on Andrew had made her feel safe and wanted.
She took a deep breath and nodded. “All right. I’ll try it.”
Harold’s brows lifted. “You’ll try it? I was prepared to sit here and try to convince you.”
She smiled faintly. “I’m beginning to think opening up might be the healthier way forward.”
He regarded her fondly. “I’m proud of you, Isla.” The words were spoken not as her superior, but almost as a father.
“Can you ... show me what you mean?” she asked softly. “With your own abilities.”
He studied her a moment, then nodded. “Very well. I am authorized to do so, and with your permission I will. Do you trust me?”
“I do,” she said simply.
A subtle warmth spread through the air—not commanding or invasive, but gentle. It felt like a blanket being drawn around her shoulders, a hot cup of peppermint tea after a long night. The tightness in her chest eased. She felt less burdened, her mind more relaxed.
When he withdrew the sensation, the loss was like a cool breeze after sunlight, but her mind felt better for it.
“I think after that,” Isla murmured, “I could take a nap.”
Harold chuckled. “Then do so. And when you wake, get to work.”
She smiled. He always knew how to balance kindness with a nudge forward.