Dunstan stood a few feet away, speaking with his assigned aide.
“Are you certain?” His voice was low, locs covering the side of his face as he leaned down in conversation.
“Yes,” she replied firmly. “I need to remember. I need toknow. It’s fodder.”
He murmured something softly, then Helena slipped away around the corner.
They learned Wynnie’s aide made the same choice. Both wanted to remember why they needed to escape the king.
“We need to check on Adda,” George said. “Ean, have Hildy meet us in the kitchens. Is Chef Carozza down there?”
The young faerie nodded. “Yes, according to Bina.” She was a pixie enslaved in the kitchens whose job was creating fresh berries for the chefs.
“We’ll see you there.”
Ceadda was a shell of himself, sitting upon a wooden stool as he rocked back and forth. “I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to.”
“Adda,” George spoke softly as she approached her friend and crouched down before him. “I’m so sorry.”
His father looked over at her, his tired eyes brimming with tears, and she offered a small shake of her head. It hadneverbeen that bad before.
“Is she all right? I didn’t want to.”
“She’ll be fine. Her friends will care for her, and she’ll remember nothing of the night,” George lied.
“I need to forget, too.”
Nodding, she looked to Burke, Wynnie, and Dunstan for support. With her helping that evening, one of them would not be needed, but they’d determine that between themselves, and George would handle her assignment accordingly.
Isahn stood in a shadowed corner, looking forlorn, eyes sparkling with unshed tears.
“Carozza, would you help us?” George asked Adda’s father who was taking his frustrations out on a lump of dough.
“Of course. Son, are you sure you wish to forget?”
“Yes.” Though he turned to face his father, Adda’s eyes remained wholly unfocused.
“I’ll put on the tea.” The head chef busied himself with the kettle and herbs that would allow Ceadda to sleep while they overwrote his memory.
After a lifetime in the palace, George knew mindmolding wasn’t a cure for trauma, but it seemed to help many, especially if it was done soon after the incident. Still, a person’s body would never truly forget the horror. Bile would rise and muscles would tense each and every time a victim was near the king. Even without remembering precise incidents, there were enough known reasons to hate him; most didn’t question their physical reaction.
Hildy joined them, and the group gathered around their broken comrade. Remaining near the wall, Isahn observed the mindmages in action.
“What do you wish to remember?” Wynnie spoke softly.
“I was on break after making dinner, playing with the new puppies in the barn.” Adda’s voice was flat, emotionless. He accepted a cup from his father. Chef Carozza knelt, placing a steadying hand on his son’s forearm.
They stepped away to plan, ensuring the changes would stick. The wards who the king kept to overwrite memories stuck to simple scenes, lying in a bed and staring up at a blank ceiling, or sitting before a roaring fire. George and her friends, as rare as it was that they chose to forget, opted for happier scenarios implanted in their minds.
“Do you want to handle the touch?” Dunstan asked George. “I can stand guard.”
George nodded, her lips pressed tightly together as Ceadda was lulled to sleep by the tea. His head thunked down on the wooden table, and his father coughed. It was time.
With their hands piled on Adda’s head, each touching him with at least a fingertip, they focused. A new reality formed from their flowing magic, each sense brought by a different mindmage as they pushed away the invasive abuse wrought by the king, replacing it with quiet footsteps padding across the lawn to the barn, theyipsof happy pups, the screaming goats, soft fur, and the pleasant odor of hay.
Ceadda moaned in his sleep as the final pieces of his new memory fell into place.
When they were finished, George and her friends fell back, exhausted. Cook retained enough strength to pour them each a cup of wine, spread between an array of mismatched cups and glasses.
