Guardian by Heather Burch

ball. What had once felt like a challenge had become complete frustration.
    Mace had told her over and over to think it through. Once again he was posted at the railing, sitting cross-legged as the ball mocked her. Though he’d basically made himself her personal coach, Mace wasn’t much help. He seemed to be growing more and more frustrated with her lack of ability—like the earth’s rotation depended on her. Which was a scary thought.
    It made her angry, his persistence. And it made her want to be with him all the more—which made no sense at all. But in the deepest part of her being she knew he felt an urgency to help her become … whatever it was she was supposed to become. He wanted to help her be a conqueror. And an infuriating part of her found that endearing.
    “You know it exists because you see it. Listen, you can even hear it,” Mace told her.
    It was true. The faith ball gave off a low humming sound.
    “Close your eyes. See it in your mind?” Mace said.
    “Yes.”
    “Hear it?”
    Its gentle song called to her. “Yes.”
    “Now reach out and touch it.”
    She reached, fingers hungry to hold the elusive orb. Her heart rate increased. Even with her eyes closed, she knew she was almost there. Seconds later she felt something against her skin, against her fingertips. Her eyes opened to find Mace’s hands. She’d reached right through the ball. For the fourth straight day.
    Mace gave her a pitiful smile. “We’ll work on it later.”
    “No! I need to do it again.” She forced her attention on the ball, but again she failed.
    “Nikki, it won’t do any good if you’re annoyed when you try. We’ll do it later.”
    Annoyed? She was far beyond annoyed, because with each passing day she felt everything slipping from her. Emotions gurgled up from the box she’d locked them in. “Why don’t we just say what we’re thinking and stop pretending everything’s going to be okay?”
    Evil was waiting to strike. She sensed it, and she worried Mace did too. It was likely the reason he was so intent on helping her master the faith ball.
    “What do you mean?”
    She threw her hands out. “All of it, Mace. You, me. We try not to act like a couple, but melt whenever we’re together. You want to help me, but it’s out of fear. I’m going to cost everyone their lives if I don’t get this stupid ball thing. And it’s impossible for me. I. Don’t. Believe.” She pushed up from the deck.
    After a long time, he stood. “It’s not impossible. You can do this, Nikki. It just takes …”
    “Faith?” she spat. “That’s the whole problem. I have none. I’m trying, but even as I reach out I’m thinking round, silvery glowing balls don’t exist.”
    Will had overwhelmed her with the little announcement she’d be called on by the Throne. The Throne. He’d also wrecked her emotional equilibrium when he told her, “This is no game.” Was the safety of the entire ship on her shoulders? It sure seemed so. And she, the chosen one, was unable to do a simple thing like touch the round, glowing sphere. To make things worse, Mace was losing his patience with her. Losing his patience with the whole thing. The most sickening part was his reaction seemed to be the catalyst that made her want to fall into Mace’s arms. Oh, she was one messed-up girl.
    Mace’s voice, soft and encouraging, cut through her thoughts. “Just because something is outside your realm of experience, that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. And you know that. Look how far you’ve come.”
    She became statue-still for a moment. “What do you mean?”
    “Well, six months ago you wouldn’t have believed half-angel beings roamed the earth. You wouldn’t have believed there were hell hounds or demons, right?”
    True. She had come a long way. Mace’s smile diffused a tiny margin of her frustration, but even that couldn’t erase the impending doom that colored every waking moment. She looked behind her, where Will was smearing lotion on