Nephele sputters into her tea and reaches for her napkin. “Helena!”
My smile freezes into a tight line as my cheeks warm with mortification. Under the table, I kick my best friend’s ankle.
“Ow!” she cries. “What? It isn’t like they weren’t there. It was obvious.”
“We were exhausted and had no birthbane,” I sign with quick movements, unsure what else to say in front of Alexus’s friends, even though they can’t understand me.
Yazmin pours me a cup of tea. When I meet her eyes, she’s biting her upper lip, holding back a smile that threatens to take over her face.
Zahira is the first to respond, though. She lifts her teacup in Hel’s direction. “A woman after my own heart. My tongue has no leash either.” She looks at me, grin widening. “It’s okay, Raina. Trust me. Yaz and I are thrilled to see Alexus acting like a giddy young man, especially given his current circumstance. We haven’t seen him this way in…” She glances at Yaz who finishes the thought with… “Ever.”
I snatch my teacup and take a long sip. My face grows even hotter, but underneath my embarrassment, a thought rises to mind. I’m falling in love with the fact that I make Alexus Thibault happy. That I make him smile. That even under the weight of impending death, he has found joy with me. It’s the last thing I ever expected.
“Enough talk about Alexus,” Yaz says, setting my tea aside. “Now that you’re all here, I’ll admit something. Shopping was just an excuse. We can certainly grab clothes for the three of you, but there’s more to the day’s plan than what I shared with our beloved Witch Collector.” She leans her elbows on the table. “I have a proposal. One that might provide much needed answers if you’d like to hear about it.”
Nephele, Hel, and I share a glance. “Of course,” Nephele says as she makes me a plate of food the way Mother used to. “Do tell.”
Yaz gives Zahira a look, and only after Zahira nods does Yaz continue. “There’s an oracle in the city. The Memory Catcher, we call her. She’s different from Seers like you, Raina. She reads people’s blood and sees the memories that live there. I would’ve tried convincing Alexus to see her today, but he’s never cared for her insight. She’s never failed us, though.”
The one name that comes to mind is the one Nephele shared with me at Hampstead Loch. Petra Anrova. The woman Joran spoke about who lived in the Iceland Plains for a time. This can’t be her, but seeing memories is like seeing the past.
Nephele sets the dish of food in front of me. Before I can think to school my expression, I give her a wary look. Zahira reads the question that must be clearly painted on my face.
“The past helps us understand the present,” the captain says. “And Ingrid, that’s the oracle’s name, is especially skilled at revealing past truths we need to make sense of our present conflicts. History holds answers if we’re only brave enough to seek them out. According to Alexus, your mother and father hid many things from you and Nephele. Perhaps we can uncover something that will help you both make sense of why they did what they did and how it connects to this time in your life.”
The three of us look at one another again. My curiosity gets the better of me.
“Why does Alexus dislike Ingrid?” I sign before I begin eating. This time, Hel translates.
“Because she sees the past, I suppose,” Zahira says. “He’s never been one for revisiting memories. Of course, now we realize why and what he didn’t want revealed. He might still scold us with more than a few choice words when he finds out we’ve taken you to see her, but I trust her tellings.” She lets out a breath. “I’m not certain there’s any man in all of Tiressia who has more regrets and pain than Alexus Thibault. I didn’t realize how deep that pain and regret ran until he explained last night. I think a part of him wants to know all the things he’s forgotten, but another part wants to keep those lost memories buried. They don’t sting that way.”
I understand all too well the misery of wanting to forget pains of the past, and yet longing to uncover other truths that might wound just as deeply.
Hel squeezes my knee with a gentle grip. “It’s worth a chance. We should try. You might remember something about Rowan or the God Knife.”
I turn to my sister. Her eyes are focused, deep in thought. She blinks out of her daze and meets my stare. “I agree with Hel. Speaking with the oracle might be helpful.”
All eyes rest on me, waiting.
“We will see the Memory Catcher then,” I sign as Hel translates. “The past is the past. It cannot hurt us now, right?”
Zahira’s eyes grow dark. “Let’s hope not.”
24
ALEXUS
The bell above the barber surgeon’s door jangles when Rhonin and I enter the small, empty shop.
It’s dark and gloomy here on the back side of the Merchant Quarter. Most of the shops are set far from the coast, lining narrow streets, nestled below cramped living quarters. There’s a window, but the grime coating the panes muddles what little light finds its way here. Still, the bloodstains on the wood floors remain, some in big, saturated splatters beneath the surgeon’s table. Others in rings from buckets around the barber’s chair.
Rhonin makes a disgusted sound beneath his breath and taps his finger against a wide-toothed saw, one of the many rusted surgical instruments hanging on the wall. It screeches on its hook.
“You have interesting friends,” he says. “Who apparently like to murder people. Gruesomely.”
I eye the backroom door, covered by a dirty, dark green curtain. “You haven’t even met him yet.”
“Little scared,” Rhonin replies, raising his red brows. “Not gonna lie.”
