I know that I am Suraya Saab from Coban, but I don’t knowhowI came to be in this bed orwhereI’ve come from. It feels as though Ishouldknow, but when I try to remember, there’s a big gaping hole in my memory. It’s... frighteningly blank.
The last real thing I can remember clearly is receiving a fancy invitation to go to the Kaldarian palace. But there’s nothing much after that.
So, is this the capital city? Had I accepted the crown prince’s summons?
Frowning, I run a hand through my loosened hair and halt, pulling the shockingly lengthy ends toward me. They’re much longer than I remember—but it’s the color that stops my breath. Are some of the strandssilver? How and, more important,whendid this happen?
I press my fingers into my temples. “Why can’t... I remember?”
He scoffs. “Can’t remember? Or won’t?”
“I don’t know what you want from me. I don’t even know where we are.”
He lifts a dagger, and the sight of it is gratifyingly familiar. “Why do you have this?”
“My mother’s dagger?” But even as I focus on the finely crafted weapon, I don’t remember finishing it. I remember hammering the steel and cooling it, but not much more than that. It glows with an unearthly luminescence, runes carved into the blade that weren’t there before. However, deep down, somehow I know it’s my handiwork... thatIetched that jadu-forged steel. Butwhen? Andhow? My skull thumps.
“Do you intend to kill me with this?” he presses.
“No?” It emerges like a question, and I hate the fearful doubt I hear in my own voice.
“Tell me why you have come,” he growls again, and I recoil.
“I can’t! I don’t fucking know!”
Self-preservation has frantic thoughts of escape spinning through my head.
But then I feel an odd pressure on my skull, like something is trying to peel me apart, as he continues to stare intently at me. After a few seconds, a frustrated look comes over his face and the pressure eases.
“How are you resisting me?” he spits, eyes snapping with rage. “No human can.”
I frown. Resisting what? His gaze narrows in icy suspicion as if I might be a threat, but my brain is stuck on one thing: What does he mean nohumancan?
“Do you know who you are?” he demands.
“A b-bladesmith,” I stammer, the answer coming to me immediately. “From Coban.”
Thank the sands I’m aware of that at least. My childhood memories are crystal clear, but everything else is muddled. The more I concentrate, the more my memory feels as though it’s filled with ever-widening sinkholes, but I focus on what I know.
I’m Suraya Saab.
I’m from Coban.
My father owns a tavern, which I hope to inherit and manage one day, and my aunt, Amma, works in the kitchens—she’s the best cook in Coban.
My best friend’s name is Laleh.
I received a coveted invitation to the palace.
With a shiver, I glance at the window again, the verdant green of the trees just as alarming as earlier.Couldit be Kaldari? I frown. I’ve never been to the capital city, but my mother always said it was beautiful. Flashes of a sprawling palace appear in my head and the handsome face of a prince... an explosion and an underground city with striated pink-and-brown canyons... a tower drenched in blood.
I cringe at the last image, something in my brain recoiling like a snapping band, and I’m filled with a slew of emotions.
Fear, love, hurt, heartbreak.Pain.
A montage of faces, both beloved and betrayers. Shimmering runes and a giant flying serpent. A hysterical laugh bursts from my lips.
Sands, no wonder I can’t remember reality properly. I clutch my aching head. “Stars above, what is happening to me?”
