Taking a steadying breath, she slipped her arm through his and gently squeezed his bicep. He lifted his arm to support the weight of hers. At once, his own breathing eased with therightness of it. He applied light pressure to her hand with his arm, returning the gesture as thanks for her quiet comfort.
Edmund and Juliette were ahead of them, Juliette talking animatedly, Edmund looking stoic and replying frugally. Lanterns flickered to life along the worn cobblestones they now approached, guiding them back to the labyrinth of ancient courtyards and vaulted archways. He heard the whinny of a horse as they passed the entrance to the university stables, calling for its evening meal.
“You know, Isla,” he said, “what you did back there was impressive.”
She looked up at him, her big amber eyes alight with intelligence. Her smile was small, but it was there.
“Thank you,” she said simply. This new territory of polite conversation between them was still clearly an anomaly for her.
“You know, despite the friendly competition we’ve shared over the last couple of years, I truly have always admired your bright mind.”
“Friendly!” she scoffed, though good-naturedly. “I’m not sure I’d call it friendly when you outshone me during the funding presentation, leaving me scrambling to defend my own research budget.”
He smiled at her. “I could never outshine you.”
She raised a skeptical eyebrow, prompting him to continue. “Besides, that presentation was more a formality. You know the budget was already earmarked because of the war effort. It wasn’t personal. Unfortunately, wartime priorities often overshadow other important research, but that doesn’t make it any less impressive. In fact, I’d argue your work is even more valuable. When the war ends, the world is going to need a special kind of healing—both for the land and the people—and yourresearch is exactly that. Your paper on improving crop yields and soil management will help the country survive difficult times and ensure a more resilient food supply.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” Isla’s lips curved into a brief, playful smile before she sobered. “Our nation owes you a great debt of gratitude, Andrew—for your work helping to create the mechanical defenses that keep us free.”
He let out an awkward, ineloquent grunt. “I just ... I can’t help feeling guilty. Being here, safe behind the university walls, while others are out there ... ”
She studied him for a moment, her eyes softening. “Andrew, you’re at the very top of your field. I understand why you feel that way. But we all have our roles to play—and without men like you, the war effort would be far worse off. What you do here truly matters.”
The winding path led them toward the ivy-wrapped cloisters, growing taller with every step. A light drizzle began to fall, and he noticed Isla shiver as the sky dimmed. He pulled her in closer.
“Is that what you were thinking about back there, Andrew? You looked a little haunted.”
He didn’t reply immediately, unsure how much to share. She had been through so many changes recently, as well as trauma, and he was also making progress with her—she was no longer trying to thwart him at every interaction like a particularly stubborn squirrel defending its last acorn. But he was done waiting. That last memory had reminded him that life was short and a gift that needed to be embraced, even if he got to do it over again in another life—any opportunity to be with Isla was where he chose to be.
“You know that I can see memories as an Aqua Summoner?”
When she nodded, he continued.
“Sometimes memories happen unexpectedly; I don’t always have to be focusing on finding one for them to hit me.”
“So, you were living a memory? One from your past? Was it an awful one?”
He smiled at her rapid questions. “Yes—yes—and not exactly. It was painful, but it also held so much beauty.”
Just before they entered the main campus, Isla pulled on his arm and turned him toward her. They stood facing each other, the drizzle making everything damp. She studied him, her eyes flicking between both of his.
“Was it a childhood memory?” She was clearly trying to understand his pain, her mind jumping to his childhood—probably because hers had been so hard.
“Isla,” he whispered, his voice hoarser than he intended. He hated that she had suffered. Hated that he had just seen her death. “My memories are not only of this life.”
Her eyebrows raised, her jaw dropping.
“They are also of previous lives. The one I just relived was from a life before this one.”
She blinked rapidly, her beautiful mind clearly working through his implications. She nodded. “Yes, Harold told me his wife had similar experiences.”
She looked away for a moment before focusing on him once more. “And I find that completely unfair,” she said, a smile spreading across her face.
His own smile grew at the sight. Despite his serious revelation, he was glad she hadn’t run for the hills at his confession.
“And why’s that?”
“It means you can recollect all your previous learning! You had an academic head start on me because you can remember previous lives.”
