“Why didn’t he want you to tell the doctors this?” Catherine asked, recalling her.
“I don’t think he wanted to be treated like a lab experiment,” Fran said, which made the queen snort. “But there’s something more to it, too. He wants to remember, to be a functional part of society again—and to find his family.”
She nodded as the queen’s brows lifted. “Don’t think he’s not doing everything he can to make his way back to you,” Fran continued. “Family and his obligation to family is probably his driving force. He’s convinced they’re on the mainland, and he’s getting anxious to go back there. To find them.” She waved her hand in front of her face. “But he’s also nervous that whatever is keeping him from remembering is important. So he wants to continue trying to figure it out—but not in a way that might keep him stuck here. So that’s why he doesn’t want the doctors to know.”
“Typical Ari,” the queen said, but she’d taken hold of her emotions once more, and was now staring across the room—not at Fran, but at some far, fixed point, echoing what Ari had done bare hours before.
Like Ari, she made a decision quickly too. “We’ll not tell the doctors this. You’re under no obligation to do so, of course, and neither am I. If the episodes increase in frequency, or his reactions worsen, tell me. But for now we can honor his wishes to work through this on his own.” Her lips twisted. “He would have preferred that anyway. He was always fiddling around in that infernal plane of his, tweaking the electronics, testing new gear. But—” Her fingers tightened on the linen cloth in her lap. “I never thought that he would do anything truly foolish. Anything that might put himself in danger. He had so much responsibility—too much, perhaps. It simply never occurred to me that he might not be able to meet those obligations week in, week out.”
She sighed a soft, broken sob. Fran knew the queen wasn’t really talking to her. She was talking to the shattered pieces of her own heart, working through her pain as best she could.
“He fully plans to meet those obligations again,” Fran said gently, and the queen blinked at her, her eyes bright with unshed tears.
Sorrow morphed into irritation in a blink. “I don’t care about that—”
“Oh, I know. I know.” Fran lifted her hands in a soothing gesture, never stirring from the couch. “But Ari does. It’s a motivator for him. He may not know what had been required of him before, may think he simply needed to get onto the next job in his soldier-of-fortune list of things to do.” The queen’s glower crumbled a little. “That doesn’t change the fact that he wants to get back to it. He’s champing at the bit.”
“Now that truly is the Ari I remember,” Catherine said, more color flooding back into her face. Color, and a hint of relief too. “Has he said anything about taking a boat? Leaving?”
“A boat? No.” Fran’s focus sharpened. “That would be bad, I thought. He’d be recognized.”
“Yes and no.” The queen tapped a long finger to her lips, regarding Fran shrewdly. “If he was traveling with us, then yes, of course. He’d be noticed immediately. But his hair is far blonder than it was when he left, and his skin is darker, almost swarthy, after a year of working in the sun. He shaved when he first arrived, but his beard is already growing back in. If the two of you went into the city—it could be the breakthrough he needs. And the entire Garronia National Security Force would be there as well as the palace guards, all the doctors and our entire extended family, should something go awry.”
“The two of us—into the city?” Fran lifted her brows at her. “Your Highness, you barely know me.”
“Nonsense,” Catherine flapped her hand. “You and your friends were all carefully vetted by Stefan ages ago.” She beamed at Fran as she warmed to the idea forming in her mind. “I know everything about you I need to, dear, don’t you worry about that.”
The morningof a new day was now hours old, and Francesca hadn’t yet made an official appearance. She was close, though, so that was progress.
Ryker watched from the rooftop of the guest villa he’d been given, using the stargazing telescope affixed to the decking to focus in on the trio well up the cliff-side walk. Francesca was there, appearing slightly frazzled as she waved her hands, clearly in some kind of argument with Stefan and Nicki. From the expression on Stefan’s face—mild amusement—she wasn’t telling him anything of great import.
She definitely wasn’t making any gesture that would indicate she was telling them that Ryker had spent most of the previous afternoon hyperventilating in her arms.
That lunacy needs to stop, he thought grimly, swinging the scope around to the second location of interest for him, the marina. As usual there were no more than a few vessels docked. Two large speedboats, a mini-yacht, and a sailboat. In the time he’d spent on the island, he’d seen but one man working on that sailboat, and he was there again now.
And damned if Ryker didn’t think he knew him, somehow.
The reaction to the sailor was similar to the one he’d had with Stefan. There was an immediate headache and pain, yes. And a curious surge of panic. But it was nowhere near the intense agony he experienced when he tried to focus on far more innocuous memories like flowers or…well, his family.
He focused again on the man, who was cleaning the sailboat for what Ryker thought was easily the fifteenth time. He was burly, heavily muscled, but he worked with a focused efficiency that made Ryker think of the military. Had he met the man there? He didn’t think the big man was a direct relative, they didn’t look enough alike.
It would make sense that Stefan had called in one of Ryker’s friends, though Ryker couldn’t imagine why he hadn’t brought the two of them face to face. This morning’s round of doctor visits had gone exactly according to his plan. He’d been affable, upbeat, and had responded to all the doctors’ questions with his full attention, neatly steering them away from questions about what he recalled of his family. Any questions about the accident were easy enough to handle. He simply focused on what had occurred after he was in the water, once he’d ejected from the plane. That was also a hazy murk, but there were no attendant headaches with such thoughts. It was only when he tried to remember what happened immediately prior to the accident or malfunction or mistake—whatever he’d done to lose control of his plane—that his mind went sideways on him.
“What are you looking at? Is that a telescope?”
Francesca’s bright, sunny call startled him, and he took his eye off the scope to peer over the roof railing. Sure enough, she was standing in front of his guest villa in a light-colored tank top and short pants, her hands forming a sun visor as she gazed upward.
“The marina,” he said, affably enough as he glanced up the road. Stefan and Nicki had disappeared over the ridge. He wondered if they’d realized he’d been spying on them. “Want to take a walk?”
“Of course! Nicki and Stefan apparently are going to test her rock climbing abilities on sheer walls over open water, and that’s not something I need to see.” Francesca frowned, examining the side of the villa. “Actually, I wonder if there are bikes here…”
She was still rooting around in the small shed by the house when Ryker exited the villa, and one bike already leaned against the stucco wall. He regarded it dubiously. “That looks older than I am,” he said, and she laughed from inside the shed.
A moment later she emerged pushing a second decrepit bike. “I get the feeling visitors to this island aren’t big on cycling.”
“Too hilly.” He peered beside her and his brows lifted. “There’s a motorbike though. That’s probably a better option for the return trip anyway.”
He strode past her as she stepped out of his way, then she backed up several steps when he pushed out the bike a minute later. It was a newer bike but meant for sturdiness, not speed, with a long, heavily padded seat. “You ever ride?”
