“There’s a resistance?”
“Oh, sorry. I’ll need to explain everything won’t I?” He laughed.
Memory opened her mouth wide and punched her fists onto her hips in exaggerated insult. “You can start by explaining why you’re out here bugging me instead of your beloved princess.”
Roen dropped his head. His caramel brown hair fell over matching tawny eyes. The colors in combination made him look like a statue made of gold. A sense of loneliness crept into his expression, hidden under the glossy facade.
Why would he be lonely? He has a home, a family. Memory’s heart jittered, worried he might actually go back inside. She searched for something to say that would stop him from leaving her on her own again.
“You said about brothers before. They don’t live here too?”
“None of them still live. The five eldest died in the wars, and the sixth, well, he’s dead to us either way,” Roen said through half his mouth.
“Oh god, why is everything so horrible? Every single thing that’s happened.”
“Except meeting me, right? That isn’t turning out too bad,” Roen looked back up, smiling again in a way that creased his eyes. “Don’t worry for me, I barely knew my brothers. I was youngest of the lot by more than a few years. I don’t even know what it’s like to be a noble, except from what Mother and Father tell me.” Roen leant toward her and whispered as though sharing a secret. “When I was younger, Mother used to train me in noble manners. One day she just stopped. I guess she gave up thinking I would ever be a prince.”
Memory tried to smile in return, but her lips kept falling downwards.
Roen cleared his throat. “Enough about my family. I hope one day you can tell me about yours.”
“Do you think… my memories could just come back on their own?”
“They might. But better to stay amongst friends all the same.” Shaking his head, Roen leant on the wall near her and chuckled. “At least now I understand your odd name. Still don’t understand what you were wearing before.”
Memory turned away from him, staring at the strange magic of the tiny fairy creatures glowing in the trees. How could they even be real? How could any of this? Loss and confusion flooded over her. A sob shuddered up through her body and she caught it in her throat, swallowing it. She tensed to stop the tears that tried to escape.
“Hey, look here, what is that?” Roen stepped up in front of her. He stared at her ear, his face twisted in a strange half smile.
“What? What is what?” Memory released a worried giggle.
“Here, let me.” Roen reached toward her and pulled a large white flower from behind her ear.
Memory’s mouth opened wide again, this time in honest amazement. “How did you do that? How did that get there? Was that magic?”
Roen laughed so heartily it took a moment before he could talk again. “I can’t believe that worked! You really have no memory at all?” He wiped his eyes. “I’m sorry, normally that only works on children.”
His laughter was so good natured she couldn’t begrudge him for it, but put on her best pout, and asked, “Show me how to do it?”
“All right. But only because you need something to fill that head of yours. It’s simple really. Not magic at all. Just a bit of a distraction and a flick of the wrist.” He showed her the flower tucked behind his fingers then pulled a funny face, pointing at it with his other hand. “That’s the distraction.”
“Oh,” said Memory. “No wonder it only works on kids. Still, can I try?”
She picked a star shaped leaf from the ground and tucked it into her hand, trying the same movements he had used, reaching her hand up to his ear.
“Not bad. If I didn’t already know what was happening.”
“Yeah, yeah, be a smart ass. How about this?” Memory moved her arm again, fumbling the leaf. It slipped from her grasp and fell to the ground. Roen ducked down to pick it up for her at the same time that she did and they collided midway. They stood back up together and he held the leaf out for her.
“Poor.” His mocking came gently with a smile.
“Really?” Memory said, raising an eyebrow. She giggled when he looked down and saw another large leaf poking from a buttonhole in his waistcoat.
He picked it out and looked at it, and then her, in amazement. “See I was right, you are special.”
“Who would have thought?” Memory smiled and shrugged. The chemise slid off her shoulder again, revealing another dark bruise. She glared at it. I’m going to have to start naming you blue bastards to keep track of you all. Roen frowned at it as well. He looked from the bruise on her shoulder to the one under her eye.
She suddenly became aware of just how close together they stood.
“You’ve been attacked. So many bruises on you...”
His eyes darkened and a muscle twitched in his cheek. The look of concern only made his pretty face more charming. She could feel his warm breath on her, making the hair on her neck stand on end. Her heart drummed and she began to understand how Eloryn had fainted so easily.
“Oh, no. I mean, yes, we were attacked, or chased, yesterday. But we got away OK. I don’t know where these came from. You know, the whole not remembering thing.” She pulled the chemise back onto her shoulder, covering the bruise.
“Still, I do hope it was nothing too terrible.” He brushed a finger across the purple under her eye. She flinched under his touch, even though it was too gentle to hurt.
A deep growl rumbled from the trees above them. Roen stepped in front of Memory, putting her between him and the flower-covered wall. She looked past his arm but saw nothing except the continued movement of sprites shimmering about, undisturbed by the noise.
“Just some wild animal in the woods. We should head back inside. It’s too cold to be out anyway.” Roen extended an arm, inviting her into the house in front of him.
The warmth of the kitchen made Memory’s chilled skin tingle. She looked back past Roen for one final glimpse of the magical fairy lights. In the dark trees, a silhouetted figure moved amongst the twinkling, living stars. Moving into the kitchen she arched her neck for a better view and yelped when she walked straight into Brannon while looking the other way. Roen closed the door.
“Son, a word.” He stepped back and opened the curtain to the main room, ushering them both through. Isabeth lay on Roen’s thin bed, and another blanket had been laid out on the floor next to it.
Brannon led Roen across to the front door before looking back to Memory. “Eloryn is already asleep. You will be sharing the bed with her,” he said.
Pulling back the curtain to the bedroom doorway, Memory lingered to watch, to make sure Roen really wasn’t in any more trouble. Brannon talked to Roen in a whisper then slapped his hand on Roen’s shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. Roen replied then turned and nodded a goodnight to Memory where she stood watching. His eyes drifted to her side and a smile tugged the corner of his mouth. Memory turned to follow his gaze and saw Eloryn sleeping on the bed, her hair draped like ivory silk over her small shoulders. The sound of the front door closing turned Memory back to find Roen gone. Only Brannon remained, watching her thoughtfully. She let the curtain fall closed between them.
Buried in a bundle of thick down quilt, Eloryn heard soft footsteps approaching the bed. Having just shared the biggest secret of her life, one she and Alward had kept for sixteen years, her insides churned under her skin. She feigned sleep to stop the eager questions and looks of Roen’s parents. But when she lay down, despite her utter exhaustion, her mind would not quiet and let her get the rest she needed so dearly.
“All tuckered out from being a princess I suppose. Must be hard,” Memory’s whispering voice muttered from beside the bed. Her strange words made little sense. Eloryn hoped Memory would understand her words in return.
Eloryn sat up and looked to see they were alone. The double bed felt vast around her small form. Memory stared back for a second, her eyes red rimmed, making the green more vibr
ant in contrast. Then she turned away from Eloryn and sat on the other side of the bed.
“I’m sorry,” Eloryn said to Memory’s back.
She didn’t respond.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but you have to understand how important it was to remain secret.” Eloryn gripped the quilt, wringing it in her hands.
“I get it OK,” Memory said. “It’s just on a serious level of suck. I don’t even know what the hell is going on and you got me all caught up in it.”
“I promised I would help you, and I will. We will still try to find Alward, find out what happened with the Veil door, and help you get home. My heritage changes nothing there.”
“My ass it doesn’t.”
“You don’t understand. You don’t know-”
Memory turned and glared at her and her words cut off. Of course she doesn’t know. How could I have said that to her? Her effort to apologize turned wrong rapidly. She hardly knew how to talk to someone her own age, even without the communication gap Memory suffered. She’d never been able to make friends, even when she was allowed to mix with children her age in class. Always too shy, too different. The weight of her secret always added an extra boundary.
With a look of exhaustion, Memory turned her back on Eloryn again. She pulled back the covers and wedged herself between them, as far to the edge of her side as she could.
I have to try again. Eloryn knew her title meant a lot more to everyone else but she only wanted simpler things, to be safe and happy with people she cared about. “I know I made things worse by hiding who I was from you. But maybe I can help you understand. I was raised by Alward, the man who saved me when my parents were killed.” Goosebumps prickled her all over. How she’d dared to feel dissatisfied with her life before made guilt simmer inside. Their life together was good, comfortable, and safe. Alward did everything he could for her, to keep her safe and make her happy. He treated her as his daughter even though she wasn’t, and she knew it meant he never had a chance to have his own children, his own life. If anything happened to him, it would be her fault. “It was hard, growing up, to understand why we lived how we did, the terrible things that had happened. Alward used to tell me a bedtime story...”
Memory made no movement, and Eloryn thought maybe she’d fallen asleep. Still, Eloryn pulled her knees up and put her chin on them, and spoke the words of the fairytale she knew by heart.
“Once upon a time in a beautiful land, surrounded by seas, man and fae lived side by side, peacefully, under the Pact. The Queen of this land was beautiful and young, and time came for her to take a King. Many tried for the place but only one could be chosen for her. One man, Thayl, became obsessed with the Queen. He swore vengeance on the Wizards’ Council when they picked another man to be the Queen’s husband. Then he disappeared, vanished without trace. The Queen married and grew large with her first child. The time came when the Queen went into labor, and on that night, Thayl returned.”
Memory turned over and propped herself up on one elbow, wide eyed and enthralled like the children in Eloryn’s classes.
“Thayl stormed Caermaellan and slew all between himself and the Queen as he had vowed. The King, the council of wizards, the castle guard, all fell before him as he unleashed a terrifying new magic. One wizard escaped and ran to save the queen. Too weak from her labor, she ordered the wizard to take her newborn and flee, to only and most importantly keep her child safe. He did, and the Queen was left to her fate. Thayl took control of the kingdom, forever still hunting the few wizards that escaped him and seeking the heir he knew survived that night. Some tried to fight, but none could stand against him and his new powers.
“The wizard went into hiding and raised the Queen’s daughter, caring for her and teaching her, and keeping her safe from all those he knew would be hunting her.” Eloryn finished, and Alward’s voice echoed in her head, the words he would speak each night before kissing her forehead and dousing the lights, Always, always, keeping the princess safe.
Memory stared unmoving for a long moment after Eloryn finished her tale. When nothing else came, Memory blustered, “But! What? He couldn’t have her, so he killed her? That’s crazy person logic! What kind of story was that?”
Eloryn cringed and wiped away a tear. “I thought it would help you to understand, to know what happened.”
“He killed all those people? And this guy is still looking for you? Bloody hell.” Memory put a hand over her mouth. “You were right, I didn’t know. There’s a lot that I don’t know. But, it’s a little bit less now.”
Eloryn slid back under the covers, hiding her face and the tears that refused to stop. Alward, where are you? As her consciousness faded away into sleep, Memory whispered, “I hope your fairytale gets a happy ending one day.”
Chapter Eight
She stood in an alley way. All grey.
Impossibly tall buildings, sharp and slick, bent over and watched.
She looked up, not into them but into a hand.
It glowed. It hurt her. It belonged to a man.
The hand, the man, the buildings spun.
She was losing herself.
Then found a young boy.
He yelled, punched, pushed the man and made him disappear.
One, two, three. They all fell into nothing.
An eternity of darkness.
They dissolved and swirled. Ran through trees.
Brambles tearing.
Talons and scales. Thundering, hungry roars.
She held his hand, he held hers back.
Their wrists matched.
They couldn’t hold on.
She screamed.
She screamed. Strong hands held her down. She thrashed, clawed, bucked. Sweat and tears drenched her skin. Her eyelids felt glued. She tore them open.
Heart thundering and chest burning, Memory’s eyes darted, trying to refocus in the morning light.
Where am I? How did I get here? I can’t remember, I can’t…
Oh… right. That amnesia thing.
Roen knelt on the bed next to her, holding her still by her shoulders. The feeling of his hands pushing her down kept her panic racing, and she pulled away, backing up against the carved headboard. The red velvet of the bed’s canopy shook like blood dripping down from the ceiling.
Across the room, Isabeth had her arms wrapped protectively around Eloryn. Both had wide eyes and tangled hair, just awoken. A bathtub of black, cold water stood in the corner. Brannon watched from the foot of the bed.
“Sorry.” Memory’s voice cracked, sore from the screaming she’d done. “Nightmare.”
She felt an awful disappointment that she hadn’t woken up somewhere she recognized, with people she knew and memories of who she was. She wished that the few things she could remember were the nightmare that she could wake from.
Roen gave her a kind smile. “As long as you’re all right.” He looked tired and grim, and wore the same clothes he did yesterday. He got back up off the bed and seemed to be trying to catch his father’s eye.
Brannon looked at Eloryn. “Are you sure she remembers nothing?”
“No, she doesn’t,” Memory cut in.
She wished she hadn’t when Brannon turned on her, a hard line across his forehead. “Memories or not, you have to understand how strange you are, how risky it is for all of us to trust you here.”
Roen choked. He apologized with his eyes before dropping his head away.
“I’d leave if I knew where to go!” Memory winced at the shrill tone in her voice and tried to calm it. “But I don’t. I don’t remember anything. I just want to go home and will as soon as I know where that is.”
Tears from her nightmare still wet her face and she wiped it furiously. She felt like a two year old, sitting in bed crying while everyone stared at her. She wished she had somewhere else to go so she could leave right now.
Eloryn sat down on the bed next to her. “What did you dream? It might tell us something about where you’re from, so we can h
elp you get home.”
Memory looked up just in time to see Isabeth and Brannon glance at each other with matching disapproval.
“There was a man. I think he did something...?” Acid rose in Memory’s throat, startling her and stinging her eyes to tears. She paused, breathing deeply. The hand, the man, the buildings spun. Her head hurt. The images from her dream faded out of her grasp. “It was a mess of stuff, confusing. I don’t know.”
“It was probably just a dream, nothing real.” Isabeth set her mouth rigidly. “One look at you says you’ve probably just had a knock on the head and gotten lost.”
Memory pulled back the sleeve of her chemise and twisted her arm around to see the inside of her wrist. Obscured by a yet another bruise was a small tattoo in rough, dark ink. Like a symbol for eternity with a swirl through the middle. Their wrists matched.
Brannon turned his attention to his son. “Roen, all done?”
“I just got back when I heard screaming and came straight in here. I have news for you. I will tell you in a moment, needn’t do it here.” He gave a single nod to his father, and their eyes locked.
Eloryn stood back up. “News-?”
Isabeth spoke straight over the top of her. “Come then. Let’s have you both dressed and fed. Then we can talk more.” She flicked her head at Roen and Brannon, who turned to leave. On his way out, Roen gave Memory an apologetic smile. He started to smile at Eloryn, but then bowed shortly to her instead, making the rose in her cheeks turn bright.
“Have you any clean clothing?” said Isabeth.
“No, but I can clean what we wore.” Eloryn continued to speak a string of musical nonsense. Their muddy clothes strewn around the tub wriggled to life. Dirt and filth shivered off them, shed onto the floor as though the fabric repelled it away. Torn holes in Eloryn’s dress drew closed, threads weaving themselves back together.
“You couldn’t have done that yesterday? We looked like we’d just left a mud wrestling tournament,” Memory said.
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