by Amy Miles
“You were never supposed to know,” a voice calls to me from the dark.
I stiffen and know that Bastien is awake. “How could you keep something like that from me? What gives you the right to steal my memories?”
Bastien grunts as he shifts. It sounds like he is dragging his leg across the ground in attempt to sit. The room is not large, perhaps half the size of the cell I shared on the D’Hatil ship. The walls are made of a smooth surface, cool to the touch. It is a far more welcoming feel than the heated metal bars of my former cage.
Night has fallen, though it is unlike any night that I have ever known before. There is no light by which to see through the window. No moon. No stars. The canopy overhead blankets the compound, shrouding it with utter nothingness.
I can’t see Bastien but a part of me is grateful for that. If I can’t see him then he can’t see the tears in my own eyes.
“I had no right,” he whispers. His voice sounds distant, strangled. “Only the hope that you could be happy.”
“Happy?” I scoff and run my hands through my hair. My fingers go no more than an inch before they become tangled in snarls. I drop my hands into my lap, feeling defeated. “If you knew me at all, you would know the betrayal that I feel right now.”
He sighs, heavy and long. “And if you truly remembered me, you would know that there was no other choice. I couldn’t bear to watch you suffer. Not like that. I saw the look in your eyes when you knew Eamon was letting you go.”
“Letting me go?” I press my hand to my stomach. The nausea that swells there has little to do with my pregnancy. “He would never do that. Eamon loves me.”
“Of course he does.” Bastien’s laugh sounds pained as he shifts again. “He fought for you, for the right to be with you, but even he knew what the outcome would be.”
I lean forward, desperate to see him now. “And what was that?”
Silence falls heavily between us for several moments. I can hear him swallowing, trying to control his breathing. “He knew you would eventually follow your heart.”
I shake my head, too confused to be able to comprehend such a declaration. “Everything I have done for nearly two years has been for the good of my people. I gave up my home. I gave up my life for them. Do you really expect me to believe that I would throw all of that away for you?”
“Yes,” he whispers. I suck in a breath, shocked by the confident response. No hesitation. No pause. “That is why I asked Kyan to wipe your memories.”
“But…” I blink rapidly, feeling as if the room has begun a gradual tilt in the wrong direction, “but Kyan could never manage that. Not if I felt his presence in my mind. He taught me how to shield myself against such an invasion.”
“And would you have ever stopped to consider him as one who would create such an invasion?”
I open my mouth to answer but it hangs open in disbelief. Did I not already acknowledge that Kyan would do whatever it took to protect me, no matter the cost? “No,” I finally answer, clearing my throat. I tug my knees closer into my chest, feeling cold and weary. “I trusted him with my life.”
I can imagine Bastien nodding in agreement. “You once did the same with me.”
It is infuriating to look into my past and wonder which memories are genuine and which have been altered. If what Bastien says is true, what Hyde claims as well, then I can trust nothing from my past.
“Were we in love?” I whisper.
“Yes, but it was not meant to be.”
“Why?” I brush my hair back from my face. As my hands trail along my cheeks I realize they are moist. I am crying. How can I just forget someone so completely when it is obvious from his words that he was central to my life? I can’t imagine how I would ever choose this man over my husband and yet...there is something undeniable about how protective I feel toward him. It goes far deeper than caring about him simply because it is my duty to.
“It doesn’t matter now.” The sound of his legs sliding along the floor reaches me and I realize that he must be uncomfortable with more than just this conversation. His wounds have hardly begun to heal. It will take time. I only hope that Drach will keep his word in allowing Bastien the medicines he needs to do so.
But at what price? My children’s lives? Although Drach did not come out and say it, his implication was clear. Bastien for my children. That is the price to be paid.
“I have a right to know.”
“Perhaps,” Bastien agrees, “but what good would it do? What’s done is done. You are married now. Nothing can change that.”
There, buried in the depths of his words is a profound sadness that breaks my heart. I realize in this moment that despite whether or not I have any memory of him from a time before, I care for him far more than I should. Drach was right to sense that about me.
Is it possible to love a man that you cannot remember? Perhaps my mind has forgotten, but I fear that my heart has not.
Realization dawns on me and I lay my head back against the wall. “That is why you refused to accompany me on our honeymoon. Why you asked to be assigned to the outer rim. You were trying to let me live my life without you.”
“Yes.”
What sort of man would be willing to go to such lengths for the happiness of another? I can’t fathom that sort of love and yet here it sits only a few feet from me. Suddenly I can no longer remain seated. I push up to my hands and knees and crawl forward, blind but determined to find him. My chains clank in my ears, sounding much louder in the stillness of the darkened room.
I use my hands to feel about before me. I move forward several feet before I connect with him. He cries out and I jerk my hand back. “I’m so sorry.”
My hand is moist from his blood. I press it against myself, worried that I have injured him. “Are you alright?”
A breath hisses long and slow from between his teeth. “I’ve had worse,” he responds.
“Oh? Should I do it again then?”
“No!” He cries out. I sense that he has thrust his hands out to defend himself. I chuckle and inch myself forward. When he hears my laughter he snorts and lowers his hands, falling atop of mine as I slide in close to him. His fingers flinch just before he pulls away.
“May I sit by you?” I ask, finding myself holding my breath in case he should say no. A part of me feels as if his rejection would be more than I can bear, but here trapped in the dark, terrified of the unknown, I long to sit beside him. To draw strength from him.
He shifts slightly and allows me to move near. I realize that he is positioned near the corner of the room, propping himself against the wall for support. I turn and lean back, my shoulder only a few inches from his. I am careful not to move too quickly when I lengthen my legs in case I accidentally bump him.
I listen to his breathing, slow and steady. It is soothing. “Thank you,” I say after a time.
“For what?” I can tell that he has turned his head to look at me but it is no use. There is no light to see by.
“For trying to keep me safe. That didn’t work out too well for either of us, but I know you tried.”
Bastien chuckles. His laughter cuts off with a loud hiss. I feel movement beside me and realize that he has shifted his arm to be able to clutch his side. “Guess it’s the thought that counts, huh?” He mumbles through clenched teeth.
“Something like that.” I embrace the silence that falls between us once more. A million questions attack me at the same time, each one feeling more pressing than the others but I hold back, knowing that Bastien needs to rest.
“They are coming for us,” he says.
Instinctively I know that it is not the Roamers that he speaks of, but Eamon and Kyan. “How do you know? We don’t even know where we are. How could they possibly find us?”
Bastien’s hand flutters across to small space that divides us. When he discovers my hand he grasps it, squeezing tightly. “I know Eamon. He will stop at nothing to get you back.
I feel warmth seep back into my chest
at the thought. Yes, he is right. Eamon will come for me and Kyan will bring an army with him.
I curl my fingers around his, grateful for his presence. I look toward where I think the window to be and see no light still. How many more hours of night must we suffer before the day returns? What will tomorrow bring for me? For Bastien? Will Drach keep me safe, protect me as long as he has an interest in my children, or will we be placed back among the other slaves?
Instinctively I lean in toward Bastien, pressing my side against him. He flinches but does not pull back. I know that this position must bring him pain but he doesn’t seem to want to move away.
“Will you tell me how we first met?” I whisper to the dark.
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” he hedges. I can feel the tension mounting in his body and my heart goes out to him. Although the sting of his betrayal is still very fresh I realize that the pain he endured on my behalf cannot be ignored. I can’t imagine giving up the one person I love so that they can be happy with another. I don’t think I have that sort of strength within me, but he does.
If I know nothing else about him I will know that Bastien is a man who knows the true meaning of sacrificing for love. “Please. I would like to know.”
Resting my head back against the wall, I close my eyes and listen to Bastien slowly unveil our first encounter in the city, our showdown with Drakon in the warehouse and how I saved his life that night. None of it sounds familiar to me and yet it feels right. As he begins to tell me of the time when he pulled me from the lake, frozen and nearly drowned, my eyelids begin to feel heavy and I allow myself to slip away, feeling safe for the first time since the night of the attack.
FIFTEEN
I awake the next morning, stiff and sore but surprisingly rested. My throat is still parched and my stomach continues to twist with hunger, but I feel far more alert than the day before. When I open my eyes I see a soft white glow filling the room. It is only then that I see the red veins in the wooden walls and the straw mat laid upon the floor. There is nothing in this room apart from us.
No bed. No table. No food. A barren room.
I rise and fall with Bastien’s gentle breathing. Somehow during the middle of the night we slumped to the floor together. I look down and see that his hand still clasps mine even in sleep.
In the light I can see how extensive his wounds truly are. None look life threatening now but they do look gruesome. I realized last night that his jaw had been set before he was thrown into this room with me. It is a little thing but at least it is one less pain for him to have to bear.
His right eye is swollen shut, purple and angry looking. A wide gash over his eye has left a trail of dried blood down into his brow and then trickled down his cheek. His face is more bruise than anything. His lip is split and puffy. His jawline is nearly black from a blow that I’m sure left him unconscious.
The patchwork of color seeps down into the collar of his shirt. I dread to think what I would find if I were to look beneath. He smells of sweat and the metallic tinny quality of blood. His hair is matted, clumped together with blood. Some of it sticks to his cheek where it dried overnight.
His fingers are darkened with dried blood and some sort of black soot. I peer over just enough to realize that the black soot originates in his palm. The burn! I lean in closer to inspect the wounded flesh from where he grabbed me to prevent me from falling into the pit outside of Aloysius’ safe room.
I knew I should have healed him completely. I should have insisted.
“See what you’re looking for?” Bastien asks. A small smile stretches along his lips as he stirs. I push off the floor and right myself, watching as he struggles to rise himself. I admire the stubborn pride that he possesses, refusing any help as he props himself against the wall.
His chest rises and falls rapidly as he grimaces, closing his eyes to the pain. I reach out to help him but pull back, knowing that he wouldn’t accept my help and the thought of touching him is a bit unsettling. I can’t deny the fact that waking up beside him wasn’t comforting this morning.
“What did they put on your hand?” I ask.
He slowly opens his eyes but he does not look at me as he curls his hand inward toward his chest. “Green Fire.”
“Fire?” My voice hitches at the thought.
He nods. “They burned out the infection. Hurt like a bugger but it worked. After that they wrapped it up. Next morning I woke and found this black stuff all over my hand. Never seen fire like that before. Felt like ice and flames all at the same time.”
I look toward the window. “There is a lot about this place that is foreign to us.”
Bastien rolls his head to the side to look at me. I can tell the exertion he used to sit has cost him greatly. “I saw their ship. Saw how far more advanced they are than us. I guess it makes sense now why they came to Earth.”
I turn away from the window to frown at him. He scrunches up his nose as he shifts, pressing tighter against the wall, as if the pressure against his wounds makes it hurt a bit less. “What do you think powers everything?” he asks.
“I’m not really sure. I haven’t seen much to know.”
He nods slightly. “I saw great tubes of light near the center of their ship, swirling and beautiful. From those tubes ran ducts that I suspect fueled the entire ship. An energy source unknown to us. It reminded me of the sun back on Earth.”
“Was it a white light?” I ask, looking all around. On Earth sunlight is warm and coated the land in hues of yellow. This light seems to have no origin. It is stark in its brilliance, blinding and cold.
“Yes.”
I purse my lips and draw my legs into my chest, forcing myself not to think of how hungry I am. Surely they will feed us soon. If Drach truly desires my children he is going to have to start providing for their wellbeing.
“I have not seen a sun since we arrived here. At first I thought it was because of the dense canopy but what if we are thinking about this all wrong?” Bastien looks at me with obvious interest. “What if the source of their power doesn’t come from off the planet but from within it? Maybe that is why everything here seems to radiate the light. The trees, the water, the soil...it all glows.”
Bastien slowly nods. As he does I see a muscle along his neck quivering. He must be trying to hide his pain, I muse. Perhaps if I can keep him talking it will help.
“I guess it’s possible. We know nothing of this planet or its inhabitants.”
I shake my head. “We know something. They thrive off heat.”
It does not take long to realize that the days on this planet are short, perhaps spanning no more than seven or eight hours. Night is dominant, a quality that I suspect is perfect for our snake-like captors. Bastien and I spend our days trying to soak in what little light filters through the window. We spend our nights huddled together, swatting at wings with teeth that slip in through the window.
The temperatures on this planet are extreme, much like the deserts of Earth. The Roamers are far more active at night, seeming to thrive off the cooler temperatures. They sleep during the early hours of the morning and then rise with the light to warm themselves. Despite the drastic shifts in temperature, the humidity never seems to diminish.
Food is brought to us once a day on a large oval tray: water in a jug and a loaf of bread that I have been leery of attempting. The stacks of meat are greyish and tough, but it goes down well enough if you hold your nose. With each day that passes Bastien grows stronger.
Drach held to his word by sending small jars of salve to tend to his wounds. The medicine is the color of yellowish clay and tacky to the touch, but it brings swift relief to his pains. At first I watched him struggle to apply the medicine himself. After the first day I refused to let him do it himself. I could tell that it took everything in him to allow me to touch him. To see him exposed with only a thin cloth shielding him from my sight was hard on both of us.
I felt him shudder the first time I touched him, felt
the depth of his discomfort, but there was something far deeper that called to me: longing. How long has it been since we last touched? It is maddening to have no memory of our time together. Sometimes I think that I can almost imagine being with him but I know that it is nothing more than my overactive imagination playing tricks with me.
I have searched my memories and have come to one conclusion. Kyan did not cover my memories. He took them completely. It is as if Bastien truly never existed...but Eamon did. Thinking of my husband now I know that he is the one that I am meant to be with, and yet the longer I spend time with Bastien that confidence begins to waver.
I am loyal to my husband. The past is lost to me. Eamon is my future, I tell myself but questions linger in my mind. Did Bastien and I once hold each other close? Share a kiss?
Judging by the way Bastien reacts to my touch, at one time we must have been very close. As the days progress and he becomes used to my touch again I begin to wonder just how intimate we once were. Did we ever make love together? The mere idea of that turns my stomach, my heart battling with my devotion to my husband, and yet I am left with only more questions that refuse answers.
Bastien will not speak of our past. A part of me is grateful for that because seeing him without clothes never ceases to form a lump in my throat.
His body is riddled with scar tissue from old wounds. His back boasts several large burn marks where it appears he just missed a shot from a laser. There are several small wounds, no larger than an inch or two, that he refuses to tell me where they came from but I have my suspicions they were from a knife.
With the aid of the salve Bastien’s injuries heal at an accelerated rate. Already the dark bruising of his face has begun to fade, leaving only a yellowish hue around his face. His right eye has reopened and his spirits have lifted, though he has been careful to remain distant when possible.