Guilt sped Isahn’s heart and tightened his stomach, leading him to set down his final pastry unfinished. Hiding the fae fromhis sister felt wrong, but there wasn’t enough time to explain it all and convince her it wasn’t an elaborate jape. For the time being, Solaelia believed her brother suffered memory loss from an unfortunate fall on a brick road in Nowosmont. Some things would have to be shared later.
“You see why we’re doubly worried about Peros’s reappearance in Selwas?” Isahn verified that Lia picked up on that important piece of the long story.
“Oh, yes. He’spossiblytrying to kill us and take the earldom, but he’s definitely trying to locate some ancient tapestry at the behest of the evil Domossan King. It’s horrendous.”
“It is,” Hildy agreed.
“Have you heardanythingabout Peros?”
“No.” Solaelia looked perturbed. “I wish I had. I’ve had additional guards patrolling the property these past weeks, since you left, really. If he does anything suspicious, they’ll tell us. Why aren’t you bringing this to King Hethtar?”
“Because,” Isahn began, “some of Gasparo’s choices leading to this point have bordered on acts of war. The princess believes it’s better to handle separately, so the two kingdoms remain at peace. She fully intends to tell King Ehmet about the situation as soon as it’s resolved.”
Hildy eyed him curiously. “You’re remembering quite a lot these days.”
“It appears so.” He chuckled, lifting his drink. “I didn’t realize I recalled that conversation until I said it.”
“Does this mean that the Princess of Domos andherentourage were the friends you met and stayed with in the north?”
“It does,” Isahn affirmed. “How did you know that?”
“Apparently, you’renotremembering everything. You’ve written to me four times since you left nearly two months ago.” Solaelia sipped her wine. “First, from the Newand Principality about being on Peros’s tail and heading north. Then fromsomewhere in Domos about being there unexpectedly, needing more time, and being safe with friends. It was allverycryptic. Your third note came about a week and a half ago, a few days before the last. You don’t remember?”
Isahn’s brows inched closer together with each word she spoke. He remembered the first note he mailed from Gramenia. He remembered the fourth note he’d sent from the Neninios’s villa, saying he was on his way with Mel Hill. But the ones in between were lost to magic.
“Do you want to see them?”
“I do.”
“I’ll be right back.”
“Are you all right?” Hildy checked, after Solaelia slipped from the room. She’d opted for a glass of Domossan whiskey over wine, wanting to feel the “heat of the north,” her words, not his.
“I think so. I guess... I thought I remembered more than I do? I... it’s complicated.” The thrumming in his heart didn’t lie; he waspositivehe loved Princess George. But he was also certain the royal family kept people enslaved in the palace. And he knew he’d acted as an aide to the princess at least once. What ifthat’swhat his memories pertained to? Times when the somewhat demanding woman had called on him for... assistance?
No, she loves you,his subconscious claimed.
I hope so. He sighed.
“Here.” Lia bounced back into the room, handing over a set of letters. “The one on top’s from Lord Kahoth, forgot to give it to you when you arrived.”
“Oh, thank you.” Isahn started with the new letter from the Duke of Stormhill, needing a moment’s distraction from his butchered mind.
Hildy and Solaelia chatted about clothing styles between their countries while Isahn tucked into the note. For not wearing feminine clothes, Hildy sure noticed a lot about them.
The duke’s correspondence pertained to the rapidly approaching annual Symposium of Prodigious Minds. The thick packet from his friend included Nesrina and Kas’s latest article, the one that would be discussed at the upcoming event.
His eyes rounded. With all the commotion in his personal life, he’d up and forgotten about his commitment to act as the pen-named couple’s spokesman. For the past several years, Isahn had served as a stand-in for Kas Kahoth, who wrote under a pseudonym alone before pulling his wife in as a co-author. Isahn loved the arrangement; it allowed him to be part of something great, something culture-shifting, without having to be in charge.
Unfortunately, with the situation in his brain, the problem with his uncle, and the wider issue of the reigning tyrant in Domos, Isahn would need to back out of his support role for the duke and duchess. He’d write to them that evening to apologize and offer a few suggestions for suitable replacements.
That decided, Isahn turned his attention to the letters in his own handwriting. Though clearly interested in what his reaction would be, Hildy and Lia did a damned good job of pretending to discuss the similarities between Domossan baklava and Selwassan kataifi. They weren’t all that different; he knew because he’d had both.
The second letter Isahn sent his sister didn’t draw forth any new memories. It was precisely as Lia said: He wrote that he was well, on Peros’s tail, and being taken care of by some new Domossan friends. Isahn set it down and picked up the third, which he’d apparently written not long before his memory had been wiped by the pesky veil.
His own handwriting peered back at him from the page. The words told him little, except to verify what he already knew. He’d been trying to beat Peros back to Selwas and urged Lia to keep an eye out in case Peros made it first. On a whim, Isahn liftedthe letter and inhaled deeply, ignoring the curious looks on the women’s faces.
Roses and spice. It smelled like roses.George. He gasped as the world tilted yet again.
