by Nina Walker
I cleared my throat and looked away, trying to take in the darkened room, but really a little bit uncomfortable with the situation. A warning bell was alarming in my head, coupling with the persistent ache.
“It was a two-part question,” I continued. “What are you doing here?”
She reached out and gently ran her palm down my arm, ending at my hand. Her fingers were cool and held onto mine for a moment before she tugged, as if to pull me closer. “Isn’t it obvious?”
I eyed her smile and the way her earlier sweet expression had turned far from innocent. She was right. She was being obvious.
“Besides, we used to date. This isn’t anything new.”
I stilled, and for a moment I was tempted by the proposition. It would be so easy. She would make me feel better, if even for a few minutes. Didn’t I deserve that?
But I couldn’t, not with all the questions circling me like hungry ravens.
I pulled away, inwardly groaning.
I hate myself right now. Because really, what did I have to lose? She was gorgeous and willing. Heaven knew I needed the distraction. But the simple fact that I couldn’t remember having dated her was enough to give me pause; that and the fact I was still a married man, something that had been confirmed to me, even if I didn’t remember that either.
In the end, my mother had raised me to be respectful, to view marriage as sacred. I couldn’t dishonor her, not when I didn’t even get to say goodbye.
“I’m sorry.” Confusion laced my tone and I bristled. It made me sound too vulnerable—and I didn’t like that. I added more firmly, “I don’t remember you.”
I expected some kind of retaliation, hurt or shock or something. She only smiled again, dropping my hand to run hers through her long, loose hair.
“Lucas, I already knew that when I came here.” Her lips quirked into a demure smile. “But doesn’t that make it more exciting? We can erase the past and start afresh.” She crawled closer to me as she talked, sitting in my lap. The scent of citrus and sugar surrounded me. Her breath was hot, minty, and ran along my lips. I gulped, trying to ignore my own mixed feelings, most of which leaned toward giving in to this beautiful creature. My breath sped, and I pressed myself back against my headboard, trying to find space in my brain to tell her no.
Because she was a beautiful, all right. But sometimes the most beautiful things were the deadliest.
I didn’t know for sure if I could trust her. Just like I didn’t know if Jessa could be trusted. Or really, anyone…
I needed to remember!
If only I could get my memories back, then I would know what to do with this girl and this whole thing would be so much easier to say no to—or yes to.
“You should go,” I said, my voice more solid than my decision.
Her lips parted in a silent protest, but she scrambled off the bed.
“Seriously, Lucas? I don’t know what has gotten into you. You and I used to be close, and now we’re not even friends. What we had was unique and special. You don't even care.”
I held up my hands in protest. “I do care, but I just don’t know if what you’re saying is true.”
She folded her arms over her chest, dejected. “Are you calling me a liar?”
I rubbed my temples. “I can’t act on a past I can’t remember. I’m sorry.”
“Tell me one thing.” She glowered at me. “If it were Jessa, would you have acted any differently?”
I shrugged. “Probably not. I don’t know. I don’t remember her, either.”
But according to this girl, I was cheating on my wife. As much as I enjoyed spending time with beautiful women, that kind of behavior didn’t sound like me. But how was I to know? Maybe it was true. I dropped my head into my hands and ran them through my messy hair as I considered the possibility.
The bed dipped, and I looked up to find Celia kneeling beside it, her wide eyes once again innocent and careful. “I’m sorry this happened to you, Lucas. It’s not fair,” she whispered, a long curl cascading around her exposed neck. “I’m being insensitive. Of course, I can’t expect you to act the way things used to be.” She paused and closed her eyes, as if considering something. “I want to show you something.”
She reached to the nightstand, to a slatebook, and after a moment of fiddling with the screen, turned it around to reveal a photograph. My mind flashed to the last time this happened, when Callie had shown me my wedding photograph with Jessa. This time, however, it wasn’t a wedding photo. It was a picture of this red-headed girl and me, arms wrapped around each other and kissing.
She powered down the device and smiled sadly. “We were engaged, Lucas. Our wedding was only a few weeks away when your father decided it would be a better fit if you married an alchemist. He flung Jessa on you, didn’t even give us a choice. And then he showed her off all over the kingdom in the weeks leading up to the wedding, boasting about how it was time to celebrate alchemy publicly, and wasn’t it so great that the royal family was marrying into magic.”
“How was I supposed to compete with that?”
Without thinking, I cupped her cheek in my palm, hoping to comfort her, but finding it was wet with tears. Guilt rolled through me, sharp and disarming.
Something clicked within and I froze, uncovering a small piece of the puzzle.
“Is that why I overheard our parents apologizing to each other. Was it over our broken engagement?”
She nodded and then stood, backing up toward the center of the room. “My father and your father got into a bit of a scrimmage at your wedding. It got out of hand. It was childish, really,” her voice trailed off.
I didn’t know what to say to that. This whole thing was getting more and more complicated, unraveling like a ball of string, only to run into new tangles every time I thought I’d figured it out. If her father really had accosted mine, there was no way King Richard would be so forgiving unless he knew he was in the wrong. Jessa was technically my wife. That much was confirmed. But could it be Celia who truly had my heart?
As she stood there, curling her bare toes against the rug, body deflating like a wilted flower, an overwhelming desire to discover the truth pulsed through me. There was one way to find out ...
I flung back the bedcovers and strode to her in two long steps. Taking her into my arms, I pulled her to me and pressed my lips to hers. Soft and eager to please, she responded with fevered movements and a deep moan from the back of her throat. I pressed my eyes tight, focusing on our kiss, listening to my heart, to my body. It felt good, pleasant. But not perfect. Sparks didn’t fly, and my mind was easily distracted.
We didn’t have chemistry. It was just a kiss.
Maybe because I couldn’t remember her. Or maybe because she wasn’t mine after all. Could this whole spectacle tonight be a ruse?
I explored our connection for another minute, just to be sure. More of the same. Mind relieved, body disappointed, I released our embrace and stepped back. She smiled, lipstick smudged and teeth gleaming in the darkness. When she leaned in for more, I shook my head. Her face fell, eyes sparking and a soft gasp escaping from her swollen lips.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m not the one for you. I can’t be who you want me to be.”
Hand flying to her mouth, she spun and fled the room.
My feet edged forward across the plush rug. I shouldn’t have been so mean, so abrupt. She clearly cared for me, but I wavered… What if that only made things worse? I didn’t want to give the woman false hope. Not to mention how coming into my room like she had wasn’t allowed. I wasn’t at fault here; she shouldn’t have done it in the first place.
That seemed off to me, too.
How had she been allowed in? That had never happened before. Sure, I wasn’t at home surrounded by my normal guard, but when I’d been whisked off to this place, Richard had still brought a security team along. It was a small one, only a few of our most trusted men, but they knew better than to allow someone into my room while I was sleeping.
>
Deciding to investigate, I found one of the team members in the hallway. The lights were low, and the long row of doors were closed, tucking away whoever was inside for the night. He stood directly across from my door, hand resting on the gun at his hip.
He bowed, the shadow lengthening on his stony face. “Your Grace, how can I help you?”
“Why did you let Celia enter my room?” I questioned.
He paled, eyes shifting. “I thought you would have wanted her. I’m sorry if I misunderstood the situation.”
I cocked my head, noticing the way his voice sped as he explained. Was he lying or just embarrassed at his mistake?
“Did she pay you off or something?” I pressed. “You can tell me the truth, I won’t turn you in for it.”
“Of course not,” he replied. He bowed again. “I’m so sorry. Truly. It won’t happen again.”
I looked at the back of his lowered head, annoyed. Had he bowed simply to avoid eye contact, or was it because he was truly apologetic?
“It’s the middle of the night. I was sleeping and completely unaware and vulnerable, and you let her into my room unannounced,” I stated. “I don’t care what your reasons are, don’t do it again.”
“No, Sir.” I turned back and closed the door, making sure to lock it this time.
It was possible Celia had paid him off or blackmailed him. If not Celia, maybe her parents. Perhaps she wasn’t the one to keep an eye on. The Duke and Duchess had seemed rather alarmed when I’d first walked into that dining room tonight.
Why weren’t they more excited to see me alive and well?
I blew out a shaky breath and approached my bed. A glossy surface caught my eye, shining in the darkness like a beacon. Celia had left her slatebook on my nightstand. I smiled, relief soaring through me. It might be the middle of the night, but I wasn’t going to stay in the dark for long.
8
Jessa
The door opened, sending my heart into a flutter. Was it Richard? Or Faulk? Would I be taken away? I pressed myself against the far wall, standing tall, trying to appear strong, fear rippling under the surface.
A maid scudded inside, dropping off my evening meal. Eyes downcast, she placed the silver tray on the dresser right next to the door and rushed away, the lock clicking into place behind her. I let out a deep sigh, allowing my muscles to relax. Never in my life had I been so grateful to be kept waiting. The longer I had to wait, the better it was for not only myself, but countless others. So, despite the boredom and the worry, I didn’t ask for anything and I kept quiet.
The day Richard had informed me he’d be taking me to see Reed the next morning, I’d spent the night in utter turmoil. Since then, I’d imagined countless scenarios where something happened that changed the course of my fate. Maybe there was an attack and I wasn’t the priority. Maybe Lucas remembered me and had stepped in to help. Or perhaps there was something I said or done during our meeting that made the King drop his plans, after all.
Never had I considered he wouldn’t show up.
Eventually, I wouldn’t be able to avoid the interrogation. I was here, prisoner, and it would happen sooner or later. People were counting on me to keep their secrets and their identities hidden. Lily and Jose, Madame Silver, the others who’d helped me to flee New Colony. What would happen to them if Reed got me to tell the truth?
They would probably be executed.
I skipped over to the food, drinking a sip from the tall glass of creamy milk as I surveyed the items: soft white bread with a swath of butter, thin slices of flaxen cheese, white crackers stacked atop each other, a handful of pale nuts, and my favorite, a diced pear. As expected, there wasn’t any usable color.
I crunched on a cracker, relishing the way the salt melted over my tongue, and then popped a cube of pear in as well.
Maybe I was worrying for nothing. It was yet another day that Richard hadn’t come for me. I’d spent the last week holed up in this room, twiddling my thumbs with nothing to do and nobody to talk to. It was better than the alternative. Twice a day, one of the palace maids dropped off a meal. They were quick, and they never spoke to me. No, I was stuck in here, and I was on my own.
I returned to the plate of food, feeding not only hunger and boredom, but depression, too.
The first thing I’d done in this place was search for color, but of course, I’d come up short. And with guards stationed outside of my door at all times, I wasn’t going anywhere. All I’d ever wanted was to be free, to follow my heart and my passions, and yet, I’d ended up here.
The worst part of it all was Lucas. He wasn’t here with me, wasn’t mine anymore. Not only that, but Lucas wasn’t even the same man anymore. He’d forgotten me, forgotten us, something I couldn’t wrap my mind around. It dug at me, made me desperate with heartache.
There was nothing I could do.
I stood at the window, staring into the bitter landscape behind the fog of my breath on the glass. There were several problems with it being early February. The first was that it was freezing out. The second was that the grass was brown from winter, hibernating until the sun returned and the earth thawed, and it could return to full glory once again. Even if I could break the window and jump out like I had months before, I didn’t have the summer grass to help me heal any resulting breaks. It was at least a twenty-foot drop, and I couldn’t get away while hobbling on a broken leg. No, jumping wasn’t the solution.
The only other thing I could think of was the telepathy, but that was also turning out to be a dead end. I had tried to use what little I had left of the purple material hidden in my bra to reach out to Lily. She was one ally here that might be able to do something. And since we already had a telepathic connection, it should have worked, I should have been able to talk to her.
But I got nothing. And that probably meant she wasn’t at the palace or anywhere near it.
Lucas was close enough that I could talk to him. Maybe he was hiding somewhere in the city, or possibly on the outskirts of town. But he wasn’t going to be the solution. It seemed he wanted nothing to do with me, that his father had turned him against me. Our love was one-sided at the moment, at least until he got his memories back.
What if he never gets his memories back?
I shook the thought away. I needed to think of something else—and quick.
I returned to the bed and clutched the white bedding in my fists. I willed the magic to work for me, to ignite in my veins and do what it did for Lucas. Invisibility would be the perfect escape. I was desperate, and I needed it. If only sheer willpower alone could make it work. I sat there for what felt like ages, desperate, pleading, but nothing happened. Nothing at all. Exasperated, I gave up.
Angry tears rolled down my cheeks. I was seriously going to go crazy in this room. I needed out!
I leapt back up and returned to the window. Maybe it would be fine, maybe I wouldn’t break anything if I jumped. It wasn’t that high. And the glass? That was nothing. Even without my yellow magic I was sure I could break it. I would have to be quick to jump before the guards heard the glass and came to investigate.
A flash of movement caught my eye and I froze, icy foreboding dripping down my spine. My window faced the main drive and a line of sleek black town cars were pulling up. I gripped the window frame, fingers digging against the wood, and stared down at the scene below.
Faulk strode from the palace, quick on her heels, surrounded by her officers in gleaming uniforms, as white as sharpened teeth. They fussed over the people exiting cars. I immediately recognized Celia’s parents, and then Celia herself. I released a stilted breath. Maybe it was only the Addington family.
Another door opened, revealing a new pair of legs sliding from the car.
King Richard.
I stilled, the fear threatening to rip me apart. He was here for me. I knew it. Deep in my gut, in the marrow of my bones, in every cell that was me, I knew…
He glanced up toward my window, squinting against the sun. Somethi
ng dark flashed across his expression. I dove from the window and ran for the door.
I need to get out of here. I may not have my magic at the moment, but I still know how to fight!
I flung open the door and attacked the first guard I saw, determined to make this quick, shock and adrenaline powering through me. He barely knew what was happening, barely had a chance to respond, as I ripped my fingernails across his face, drawing blood. It only took a second, but the liquid pooled under my fingers, slick with salvation. Red alchemy spun into the air and then settled into the man, his face going slack.
“Give me your gun,” I roared, my growling voice not sounding like my own.
He immediately reached into his holster and handed over his gun. It was heavy in my hand, anchoring me into the moment.
“Stand back,” I commanded. He did, but he wasn’t the only guard I needed to deal with. Two more had their guns trained on me, fingers hovering over the triggers. They watched me, equal parts caution and rage in their careful movements and wild eyes.
“Drop the gun.” One of them scrunched up his nose and motioned to me with large well-trained hands.
“No,” I said, lifting it to point right back at him. “You’re not going to shoot me.” Because if that was allowed, no doubt they would’ve already done it.
I had limited training with guns. It wasn’t exactly the GC’s number one skill. But I knew how to point the thing and I certainly knew how to pull the trigger. “Just let me go and nobody will get hurt.”
“I can’t let you do that.” Richard’s deep voice boomed from behind me and a prickle of fear overran my senses, my grip weakened. The thud of approaching boots, the black guns cocking in aim, and then at last, the man himself, filled my vision.
“Put the gun down. Right now, Jessa.” Richard strode forward, his eyes angry slits.
Defeat fell over me like a shadow. There was no way I could fight off this many people by myself. I was outnumbered and didn’t have enough color close by.