The Memory Thief

by Lauren Mansy

  His face hardens as he steps toward me once again. “You’re quite pale, child. You’re going to hurt yourself—”

  My laugh sounds hysterical even to my own ears. “You’re worried about me getting hurt? That’s rich coming from someone like you!”

  I lunge toward my pack and rifle through it for my knives. I clench my hands into fists when I realize the man who was in here before must’ve taken them. Now all I’ve got to defend myself are a few extra shirts and my mother’s auction notice, all of which I shove back in before throwing my pack on the floor.

  “You’re safe now,” Porter says. “There’s no reason to be frightened. Please just tell me what you remember.”

  The memory I’m supposed to give him flashes through my mind, my lone bartering chip to secure my release. But I’m too afraid to give it up before I know Reid is safe . . . or even still alive. I squeeze my eyes shut, imagining Porter beside Madame when he agreed to imprison Greer in the Maze. He must know endless ways to torture a Sifter.

  I whip around to face him. “Where’s Reid? You better not have hurt him.”

  Porter puts one hand up. “He won’t be hurt, only questioned. He’s said very little, but perhaps you can shed light on this situation.” In my silence he adds, “If you’ll only calm down, I’ll explain everything.”

  “I’ve been warned about you. You manipulate people! You’re a liar.” I jab the pen toward the portrait hanging over the fireplace. “That can’t be me!”

  “You’re right,” he says simply. “Sometimes people hope for something so badly that it comes true, if only in their own mind. And that isn’t you, Julietta.”

  “How do you know my name?” My head spins as the floor rolls like the waves of the Blarien Sea. The pen drops out of my hand, clattering onto the marble, and I can’t feel my legs.

  But before I fall, Porter’s beside me, his arms surprisingly strong.

  I struggle against him, but I’m too weak to push him away. Tears stream down my cheeks as he helps me sit in the chair beside the fireplace, and I stare up at the portrait.

  “Shall I tell you who she is?” Porter asks quietly.

  All I can do is nod.

  He clears his throat and the faintest of smiles appears on his lips. “It’s your mother.”

  CHAPTER

  13

  I once knew a girl named Fynn who pledged to Greer alongside her little sister. When we first met, she was bruised all over with deep, angry purple scars on her wrists and ankles. One night, I overheard Bray and Greer discussing who’d hurt her.

  Fynn had been kidnapped and sold to a family of Hollows whose daughter had been deathly ill. Just before their daughter died, they planted all her memories inside Fynn. Then they dyed her hair and painted her face, and Fynn lived as another person for years before her sister found her and showed her the truth through their childhood memories. When Fynn tried to escape, the Hollows put her in chains until she found a way to break them.

  Back then, I couldn’t imagine what it must feel like to learn your entire past is a lie.

  I can’t speak as I take in this vast, opulent bedroom, the opposite of our airy white-washed cottage. In my mind’s eye, I see my mother darting around this room and sleeping in that bed. She’s standing beside the wardrobe and reading in front of the fireplace . . . I shake my head, refusing to believe Porter’s words.

  My mother never spoke about her family, always claiming her mother had died long ago and she’d lost her father soon after. She’s never given me any reason to suspect otherwise.

  I dig my fingernails into the armchair as bitter rage pours into me. “Liar,” I scream.

  “I’m not lying, Julietta. Your mother left Aravid at about your age, and with your face so swollen and bruised, Commander Averett mistook you for her.” He glances down and lowers his voice, speaking to himself. “My blood runs through her veins, and I wouldn’t take my word for it either.” He lifts his head and reaches his hand out. “May I see your cloak?”

  I’m sitting on most of it and make no move to hand it over. The thought of Porter using something of my mother’s to further manipulate me makes me furious.

  “Please, child, just look at the clasp. Your mother’s name will be engraved on it.”

  I can’t help but glance down at the clasp and lift it up, running my finger around the crest of the Woodland Realm. My heart jerks as I feel another marking along the edge. It’s the smallest script I’ve ever seen, but it clearly reads Emilia.

  Clutching a fistful of the cloak, I fight back tears. “You replaced it with another cloak. This one doesn’t belong to me,” I say through my teeth. “My mother’s name is Gwendolyn Lark.”

  “Gwendolyn was her middle name, and I used to call her my little lark as she was always flitting about,” Porter says quietly. “Your mother has never been anything like me. I saw her goodness as weakness, and all throughout her childhood I pushed her away, believing it would make her stronger. I was stubborn, a fool really. I tried too hard to control her. More than anything, I wish I would’ve based our relationship on who your mother truly was,” his voice breaks, “not who I wanted her to be.”

  I recoil as he leans forward, picking up the wooden box I’d dropped on the floor.

  He pulls out the journal and holds it up. “Four years ago, this was sent to me after your cottage caught fire. The flames melted the lock, and I’ve been too afraid to damage it further by prying it open.” He nods toward my cloak and offers me the journal. “We both own one half of a whole, don’t we?”

  The journal trembles in my hands. Tears fill my eyes as I press the clasp of my mother’s cloak against the lock, as I’ve seen her do a hundred times before. It clicks open. My tears splash onto the drawing on the first page, onto the folds of skin, delicate eyelashes, and tiny fingers and toes. Under it is my mother’s handwriting.

  Julietta Gwendolyn Lark, who’s given me the sweetest memories I could ever ask for.

  A sob builds up deep inside me as clips of memory flash before my eyes.

  “I am not worried about Porter finding her body.” Madame circles the commander like prey.

  “Why not?” he spits out. “I most certainly am!”

  “Because there is no body,” she whispers and slits his throat. “She’s still alive.”

  In a blink, I’m beside my mother’s bed in the asylum as I read her mind, seeing pictures of gardens in bloom and glittering fountains. Skies flooded with soft clouds and a tangerine sun . . . images that never made any sense until now. Has my mother’s coma brought her back to a childhood spent in Aravid?

  Porter reaches out to touch my hand, but I jerk away.

  Sorrow fills the lines of his face. “Whatever you’ve heard about me is no longer true. Your mother left a father who created the Maze. She hasn’t met the one who regrets it,” he says. “I see your mind cannot be read, but can you accept something from me, a memory to prove my words are true?”

  I lift my eyes to his, searching for a sign that he’s manipulating me.

  A tear slips down his cheek before he wipes it away.

  This Porter is nothing like the one I saw in that memory. Still, the idea of having his thoughts in my head twists my stomach. But unless I see what he’s offering to show me, I’ll always wonder if what he’s saying is true.

  Hesitantly, I take his hand, and his skin tingles beneath my fingertips.

  Porter smiles faintly. “It’s one of my favorites, but I would like you to have it. No, I need you to have it, Julietta.”

  Colors rush behind my eyelids as my head fills with the warmth of receiving a new memory . . .

  Emilia is so young, so full of life, holding her child in a soft blanket and whispering words too quiet to hear. She lifts Julietta up and kisses both cheeks, her own shiny with tears. Emilia hasn’t stopped smiling, looking as if she has finally found that which makes her whole.

  The scene trickles into darkness, but my heart threatens to burst with the joy housed in the memo
ry. I want to call it back and never leave the place Porter took me. The images of him as a ruthless ruler and the love threaded throughout that memory collide within my mind.

  “Your mother met Greer when he was training to become a commander. We’d hosted a banquet for his regiment here in Aravid,” Porter says, sitting in the chair across from me. “Never once had I imagined my Ungifted girl would fall in love with a young Sifter boy. When I refused to sanction their courtship, your father escaped his post in Kripen and your mother left Aravid. They made it all the way to Blare before I caught up with them. You, my dear, were the reason I left well enough alone. I’ve kept watch ever since the day you were born, but it was my own arrogance that kept me from knowing you.”

  I drop my head into my hands, unable to fight this swell of emotions any longer.

  Up until this moment, I thought I knew everything about my mother. There are so many questions and not nearly enough answers, but the memories of my childhood are already changing. The gaps of my mother’s past are filling in, reminding me just how strong she truly is.

  My mother, always so soft-spoken and joyful, found the courage to defy a ruler like Porter to fight for the future she longed for.

  When Porter places his hand on top of mine, I don’t pull away.

  “I’ve wished for this moment since the day I first saw you,” Porter says, his voice thick with emotion. “Forgive me that it’s taken so long for us to get here.”

  As I look up at him, I realize it isn’t just my mother who broke free from the chains of the past, but her father too. I see his love for us in how he’s taken care of her journal and feel it nestled deep in the memory of me. He couldn’t fake that, even if he tried.

  I push myself onto my feet and wrap my arms around him. He’s shaking, his tears dripping on my hair, as I hug him tighter. It’s a while before he stops crying, but there’s a strength in his vulnerability, in the way he so openly admits his regrets. As I cry along with him, I’m filled with pride and hope that maybe all the wrong that’s happened between him and my mother can truly be made right.

  Porter kisses the top of my head. “If I’d known you were in Craewick, I’d have sent my entire army to fetch you. Has Madame held you prisoner?”

  With a heavy heart, I explain the past week, about my pledge to the Shadows and how I planned to steal his map of the Maze to free Greer and prevent Madame’s coming war upon the Realms. The longer I speak, the paler he becomes, but Porter nods every so often to let me know he’s following along. And finally, I tell him about how I betrayed Greer and how my mother fell into her coma by my own doing.

  “The nurses aren’t sure she’ll ever wake up, but she’s moving her fingers—” I say.

  Porter clasps my hands. “She’s coming back, Julietta. In all the coma patients I’ve seen, the ones who move are close to waking. I’ll do everything in my power to ensure she does.” He pulls an auction notice from his jacket pocket. “Madame sent me one, as well. It’s taken her years to build up an army, and now, she’ll do whatever it takes to force my allegiance. She’s always sought to wear the only crown.”

  I gasp as I take the notice. “On the way here, Madame sent Minders to drag me back to Craewick. I always thought she was threatening Mother to punish me . . . that she was going to kill her just to watch me suffer,” I whisper. “But we’ve always been pawns in her game against you, haven’t we?”

  Porter nods grimly, glancing out the window beside the fireplace. “Even as a child, Madame was cold and distant, but it wasn’t until her father’s murder that she became paranoid and delusional. Her military counsel was in charge of housing the memories of each prior ruler of the Stone Realm, but she disbanded the counsel to take on all those memories herself. She distanced herself from the other rulers and trusted no one. In return, we distrusted her. Like Bray told you, Madame tried to make herself invincible and has created a thirst for power that nothing can satisfy.” He meets my eyes. “Her given name is Clemma, which I’m not sure she even remembers anymore. She was never strong enough to form her own identity and took away the opportunity for her people to form theirs. She uses fear as a weapon, destroying confidence and the ability to think for oneself. For a while, I did the same in Aravid, but the grief of losing you and your mother gave me the strength to break ties with Madame.”

  I smile sadly, thankful not every event sparked by the accident was bad.

  “She believes I’m a recluse now, an opinion I haven’t wanted to change to protect the Aravid people. I feared if she learned too much about how we functioned, she’d exploit our weaknesses. But now I know that by not engaging Madame, I’m somewhat responsible for allowing her to gain control over the Realms,” Porter says before the confidence returns to his voice. “But all hope is not lost. Your father, Julietta, lives in the Maze but he’s never been a prisoner of mine. He’s an ally, to say the least. Many times, Greer wished to send word to Bray that he was alive, but we couldn’t risk his whereabouts resurfacing. Though I’m certain he would’ve searched for you if he knew you were still alive. Madame told him you’d been killed soon after you betrayed him.”

  A tear slips down my cheek.

  Porter clenches his jaw. “Greer always understood that Madame, the vile creature that she is, manipulated you into giving up his location. He never blamed you for what happened. He would’ve willingly given himself up to save you and your mother.”

  “I know he would’ve,” I say as my throat closes. “That’s what makes the fact that I betrayed him hurt so much.”

  Porter places his hand on top of my mine. “Madame tried very hard to destroy the only ones who can defeat her now. I’ll fight her with every breath I have, and I’m certain Greer will do the same. We’re going to win, Julietta.”

  In the midst of feeling such hope, a shiver runs through me at the determination in Porter’s words. I sense an edge within him, one that never dulled with his change of heart. His openness and vulnerability haven’t made him weak. Instead, there’s power within him which runs deeper than any strength Madame has ever owned. And to her, Porter is the worst kind of enemy—a man who thinks for himself.

  He takes the necklace Bray gave me out of his pocket. “This once belonged to my mother, and my grandmother, and my great-grandmother.”

  Drawing in a long breath, I wipe the tears from my cheeks. “I’d never seen it before Bray gave it to me.”

  “Mmm. The Minders must’ve stolen it before setting fire to your cottage. But for once I’m glad they took something that didn’t belong to them. It’s brought you back to me.” He places it around my neck. “I wish you to have it. It’s rightfully yours, after all. And if you’ll have me, I would love nothing more than to be your grandfather.”

  I lift his hand and kiss it.

  CHAPTER

  14

  I change my tattered clothes to some I find in my mother’s wardrobe. Tears well in my eyes as I stare at myself in the mirror and imagine my mother wearing this deep blue tunic and dark pants. When I wrap her cloak around my shoulders, I can almost feel her here with me, giving me the strength to go on.

  The gash on my cheek still hurts, so a servant gives me a healing cream to take the swelling down on my face. It’s the color of lavender, smells faintly of violets, and burns and tingles. Seconds later, the pain vanishes and the redness around the cut fades to a soft pink.

  Just before I leave the room, I take my mother’s auction notice and throw it into the fireplace, watching as the script lights on fire before the letter turns to ash.

  Standing beside Porter out in the hallway is a lanky man with wiry white hair sticking out in all directions, his face nearly identical to Porter’s. He’s wearing a Minder uniform and hops to attention when he spots me.

  “Oh, Julietta, how beautiful you are!” he cries before glancing back at Porter. “She looks just like Em, doesn’t she, Brother? Just like her, you see!”

  Walking toward them, I grin, recognizing his voice from when he rummaged th
rough my mother’s room earlier.

  Porter chuckles. “Julietta, meet your mother’s favorite uncle, Felix.”

  I laugh as Felix springs forward and wraps his arms around me.

  “Being her only uncle, I’ll admit there wasn’t much competition. But if she’d had a hundred more, I like to believe I’d still hold my place.” He draws back and puts his hands on my shoulders. “We had lost hope, but we were wrong to do so. Very wrong, indeed.”

  My heart swells at the love I hear in his voice. To know I not only have a grandfather but a great-uncle, one who cared so deeply for my mother, makes me long to reunite them all. I glance between the brothers and grin. In less than a week, my family has doubled.

  When Felix offers his arm, I loop mine through his. “You’re a Minder?” I ask him, glancing at his Gifted tattoo, an eye like Porter’s.

  “Yes, yes. Your grandfather advises our military, of course, but nowadays, he prefers to watch over our people while I oversee the troops here in Aravid.”

  “Your Minders don’t train in Kripen?” I ask.

  “Oh, goodness no, my dear. We can do without the tactics of Kripen, thank you very much,” Felix scoffs, and I let out a breath, relieved he isn’t one of the commanders Madame has been manipulating. “Though to be honest, I never wanted to be a Minder. I’d always hoped to spend my days exploring life outside of the Realms. Your mother and I devoted many hours to discussing where we’d go and who we might meet. Perhaps our dream shall come true one day, but for now, Aravid is where I need to be.”

  “I’ve often found the best person to put into power is the one who doesn’t want it,” Porter says quietly to me.

  Felix pats my hand. “I’ll retire one day soon, you see. I’m not as young as I look,” he says with a wink. “And Porter’s even older.”