“Three.” She stared at her plate. “I can’t remember my parents at all. Tinker Bell says whatever happened to them and the house was dark magic.”
“Your parents were murdered?” The words landed heavier than I expected. I tried to summon my own parents’ faces—anything—and found only the familiar void. At least she knew what happened to hers. I didn’t know whether mine were dead or alive. If I’d ever had any at all.
“I don’t know. I assume they’re dead.” Her voice went quiet. “I wish I knew who wanted to kill them. And how I survived when they didn’t.”
“You don’t remember anything?” The question came out softer than I meant it to. I knew that emptiness—the frustration of reaching for memories that should be there and finding nothing. We had that in common, at least.
“No. Tinker Bell has tried spells, magical objects—everything to help me remember.” She took a long sip of wine. “I always draw a blank. She thinks something so horrible happened that my mind just... blocked it out. Maybe my magic too.” She stared into her glass. “She says the only way to unlock it is to believe in the impossible. Six impossible things before breakfast.”
I could relate to that. I couldn’t remember my past…not without agonizing pain. The Elder Dimension didn’t want you to remember. It swallowed your history and left you hollow.
“What did Tinker Bell mean by blocking out your magic?”
“She said the spell impacted my magic.”
An unpredictable witch wasn’t what I needed right now. Not with being hunted.
But if I let her go, the queen or Ari would scoop her up and turn her into their puppet. And if her magic was as volatile as she claimed, she could destroy everything—including herself. I needed to keep her contained. Somewhere safe. Somewhere she couldn’t be used against me—or anyone else.
Alice slurped down her oysters without hesitation. I watched her over the rim of my glass—the wild tangle of her hair, the dirt smudged across her cheeks, the way her lashes brushed her skin when she blinked.
She was a mess. So why couldn’t I stop staring?
“Why do you keep staring at me like that?”
“Like what?” I leaned back, keeping my expression neutral. I wasn’t about to admit she’d caught me off guard.
“Like I’m an oyster.”
I laughed. “Am I?”
“Yes.” She crossed her arms. “You kidnapped me, dug through my brain, and now you’re gawking at me while I eat. Stop it.”
I held up my hands. “Fair enough. It was a long trip here. Maybe you’d like to freshen up.”
Even with dirt smudged on her cheeks and her hair tangled from the wind, she was stunning. The kind of beautiful that snuck up on you and refused to let go.
She looked down at herself and scowled. “Oh, so now you mention it? After I’ve been eating with dirt all over my face?”
“Your stomach was growling. I thought food was more urgent than?—”
“Then basic human decency?” She pushed back from the table. “Where can I clean up?”
I gestured toward the far door, biting back a smile. “Through there. Everything you need should be inside. I’ll have Wally bring you some clean clothes.”
“Fine.” She stood. “And stop smirking.”
She slammed the door.
I stood there, still smiling. The ache in my chest—the one I’d carried so long I’d forgotten it was there—had eased. Just a little.
Because of her.
A prisoner. A suspected spy. And I couldn’t stop thinking about the fire in her eyes.
Maybe I really was mad.
Chapter Five
