“Where are Turner and Steig?”
Ty looked at her from where he sat across the fire. He seemed surprised too. “They went ahead to the coast. We lost one of the horses to the wolves, so they took the remaining two while I tracked you on foot. We’ll rendezvous with them in Attax before continuing to the Occidens Coven.”
Ena felt a smidge of guilt that her actions had, indeed, cost one of the horses its life, but it was instantly swamped by a flood of helplessness.
Attax was the closest major village to the Occidens Coven. She was instantly reminded of everything they had planned for her, everything she would be forced to take part in.
“So that’s it then,” Ena said, her voice filled with resignation. “I’m stuck with you again.” Tears began to fill Ena’s eyes and she looked away from him. She felt so angry she could scream—angry at Ty and the daemons, yes, but also angry at herself. She had failed in her escape, and now, everything she’d gone through was for naught.
Ty watched her for a beat, and when he spoke, his voice was gentler than it had been. “I told you. We need your help to see this through. I promise I’ll let you go once we have the amulet.”
Hearing him use that word “promise,” the last word he’d said to her all those years ago, brought up another wave of bitter emotions. She was trying to shove those back down, but then she remembered something.
“Wait a second—you said my name.”
“What?” Ty replied, in a tone that implied that she was slightly unhinged and vaguely exhausting.
“When I fell into the water, you shouted my name.”
“So?”
“So, I never told it to you. Not to mention, how did you know I couldn’t swim and would need help when I fell in?”
Ty looked away from her and stared pointedly at the fire, poking it with a stick, his face carefully blank.
“You do remember me,” Ena said quietly, realization dawning on her. There’d been a lot of new information thrown at her in the last two hours, but this realization shocked her the most.
At first, she felt elated at having figured it out, and relieved that he did remember her—he must. But then she realized what it meant, and her blood started to boil with anger.
“What the fuck, Ty? Why did you let me believe I was a stranger to you? That you didn’t remember me?” Her voice was louder now; she could hear it getting shrill as it echoed around the quiet forest.
Ty still did not respond or even look up from the fire, and Ena lost it.
“Look at me, Ty!” she yelled.
For a second, the only sound was the rain falling outside the cave, and the pop of the fire.
Then Ty raised his eyes to hers, and the look in them could’ve killed. “Of course I remember you.”
Ena stared at him for several seconds. Rage filled his eyes, and if she had a mirror, she was certain she’d see the same emotion reflected in hers too.
“Why?” she asked, struggling to control the waver in her voice. “Why didn’t you say anything? Why did you let me believe you’d forgotten me?”
Ty took a deep breath and sighed, finally breaking eye contact with her to look back at the fire. “Because I’m not the person you remember. And I wish I could forget any of that ever happened.”
His words were like a knife to her heart, and all of a sudden, it was hard to breathe. She didn’t know why she was reacting this way. That summer had haunted her, too, and she’d tried her hardest to not think about it anymore. Even before learning who he really was, and all the reasons they should never have been together, she’d told herself that she needed to get over it, that everything that had happened wasn’t a big deal, that she’d moved on. But now, as she watched the harsh planes of his face in the firelight, even knowing what he was, she knew that wasn’t true. That she’d been lying to herself.
She hadn’t moved on. Not really. Not in the ways that mattered, not in her heart. And when she’d thought he’d forgotten her, that had hurt, but it had allowed her to hate him for it, and she’d latched on to that hate like a lifeline.
Now, somehow, this was worse. Knowing that he remembered everything, just as she did, and regretted it—regretted the moments that she’d replayed over and over for years before she’d forced herself to stop, it tore at something deep inside her she thought she’d shed long ago.
Dashing her hand across her cheek before he could notice the tears starting to fall, Ena fell silent. There was nothing more to be said.
They sat in silence, staring at the fire as the sun set. And even when she’d been shivering in the freezing rain, she’d never felt more alone.
Chapter Fifteen
Enaawoketothesounds of an ax chopping wood. She looked blearily around, not remembering where she was for a minute. Then she glanced over her shoulder and saw Ty using said ax to split a downed log into firewood and it all came crashing back. An instant wave of grief swept over her entire body, like a heavy blanket weighing her down.
