“Oh, god,” Iain gasped, “please don’t smite me.”
Nathan tried not to laugh. He’d never looked at Walter in fear of being smote—or was it smited? Smitten? Nathan coughed and shook his head. “Iain…” he said tentatively.
“Nathan.” Walter looked to him warmly before turning back to Iain. “It’s quite alright, Iain. You exaggerate your sins. You are a good man. I can see that only too easily.”
Nathan didn’t miss that Walter avoided explaining that changelings didn’t have Spirit Guides—or so Nathan had always been told.
Iain’s eyes were about ready to pop out of his head. “You can see that?”
“One of the many gifts I have retained in solid form. I can’t see everything, but I can see your…I suppose you might call it your aura, the presence that hangs about you from the choices you’ve made and the purity in your heart. That you are a good man is bright and beautiful.”