“Where is she?”
“Asleep. She and Arielle have been tending to you. They hardly left your side. Had to convince them that they needed to rest.” He gave me a weak smile.
“Are they okay?”
Bastian nodded. “They’re fine.”
I was relieved they were okay, but a dark thought still hit me. “Elariya. The curse?”
Bastian nodded again, but this time, he didn’t look so hopeful, and sadness filled his eyes. “Her memory has reset, Wolfe.”
Numbness spread through me, then resignation followed, hollowing me out from the inside. I knew this was coming. But it didn’t make it hurt less. “She doesn’t remember me.”
“She doesn’t remember any of us,” Alaric offered, his tone steady, the way it always was when it was clear I was on the edge of something sharp.
“But she’s here.” Bastian’s voice softened. “She came with us to rescue you.”
And I’d kissed her.
And she didn’t panic or pull away.
She’d felt the same to me, yet she wasn’t. And knowing her—the kind, gentle soul she was—she probably tended to my wounds because the healer in her couldn’t do anything else.
“How long was I in Morgäven?”
“A week.”
I winced. Fuck. A week. Seven fucking days.
Only the Gods knew what hell had happened to Elariya during that time.
Against the pain, I eased myself up onto my elbows. There was a wide bandage around my chest, and the warm glow of mage magic held me together. I sensed my wound hadn’t fully healed, a bad sign that I’d drained more of my Fae essence in Morgäven than I could spare.
“Wolfe, you really should rest.” Garrick crossed his arms
“I’ve rested long enough. I want to know everything that’s happened.” And I wanted to know what became of that motherfuckerThayden.
“Wolfe—” Bastian attempted, but I cut him off with a wave of my hand.
“I need to talk now.” On another strained breath, I pushed myself to sit up against the stack of pillows behind me. “How did you get to me? Why did you take Elariya?”
“The dragons told us what happened and how they couldn’t help you,” Bastian began. “We searched for you everywhere to no avail. There was no trace of you anywhere. I remembered the magical shackle you gave Elariya, so I thought we’d try her. A last resort. We created a spell that would turn the shackle into a compass. It worked, but I believe the soul-mark you gave her amplified the spell. She could sense you long before. And she heard you calling to her.”
I glanced away. The soul-mark. I’d made her my Velastra. My bonded.
I knew it would do nothing to help her remember me, but I’d hoped it would be an emblem of my love. I never imagined it would turn out to assist in my return.
“And where did you get her from?” The question had been eating away at me.
“From the mortal land, from her home in Stormfell. Thayden took her there.”
“Thayden.” His name fell from my lips like venom.
“Do you remember what happened with him?” Alaric asked.
I focused on him. “Yes. I remember quite well, brother.”
Garrick stepped forward. “Then you remember what he did.”
