Eleonore’s POV
“She’s asking what you mean,” Michael relayed my message to the Priestess, who only shook her head with a light laugh. She turned away as she reached for a wet cloth at the sink closest to us, wrapping it around her hand now. There was nothing physically wrong with the skin there, but she was treating it as though she had been burned.
“Nothing she’s ready to know now,” the Priestess said as she looked at me. “Nothing she’s meant to know just yet.”
The answer spurred a feeling of anger inside of me.
Nothing I’m ready to know!?
Nothing I’m meant to know!?
I’ve been dragged to Hell and back, visited plains I barely knew existed, and fought literally demons, mages, vampires and wolves with magic, up until a year ago, I would never have even conceived of having and… and I can’t know this? Now? I can’t know what I am? What did that even mean?