How often had I sat in this very spot? Shouldn’t the chair at leastfeelfamiliar if it were mine?
“I remember being a child.” I closed my eyes, letting memories of the past rise through the enigma of my present. Relieved by how many there were. “I remember growing up in Innswood. We grew up together. All three of us.” I opened my eyes as the rest of the memory solidified. “You’re brothers,” I said, turning to include Desmond.
Gregory. Their surname was suddenly…accessible.
Desmond nodded, but his expression was inscrutable, like an instructor administering an examination. A young but unforgiving instructor with a piercing gaze. The kind that could terrify any student.
The kind one wanted, instinctively, to please.
My focus returned to Wilder. “Andyou’remy best friend. At least, you were.” The fact that he’d been essentially naked in my bed suggested that, at some point, the nature of our relationship had changed.
As a youth, I’d indulged and abandoned crushes on the Gregory brothers as naturally as I’d slept and eaten. But I’d never acted on those feelings, and it seemed impossible that I could have forgotten the circumstance that had put Wilder in my bed. That warmed my face and drew my gaze to him.
Wilder’s attention flicked toward his brother, then back to me with a bold frankness. “We’re still…close.”
My gaze narrowed on the flowing black garment clutched in my left hand. Then on the row of gold-trimmed charcoal-colored dresses hanging in the open wardrobe. Then on the breathtaking sight through the window—a stunning and distinctive view. “We’re at the Alchemary.”
Wilder’s blue eyes widened. “Your memories are coming back?”
“No.”I huffed. “But I’m perfectly capable of deductive reasoning. This is a university cloak, and the only kind of university I would attend is an alchemy academy. There are several of those in the kingdom of Aethermere, but I would aim for the best, as would both of you. Which means we could only be at the Alkahest Institute or the Alchemary. And I know this motto,” I said, pointing at three words, skillfully embroidered in the shape of a triangle on the front left side of the black robe I held. I traced the rich gold thread with one finger.
Mind, Matter, Spirit.
“And, of course, the Alchemary was always my dream.” I frowned, reconsidering. “Ourdream.”
We’d had a plan, since the day the recruiter’s circuit had brought her to Innswood when we were children.
“Yes.” Wilder exhaled, elbows propped on his thighs, staring at his clenched hands where they dangled between his knees. “This was our dream.”
“And he…” My gaze narrowed on Desmond. On the distinctive, elegant collar of his asymmetrical cape. “He’s a professor.” Which meant he’d already graduated.
Wilder snorted as he slouched backward in the chair. “Des is just a staff researcher.”
There was no such thing asjusta staff researcher at the Alchemary. I knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt. Yet Desmond seemed completely unbothered by the insult. He only stared at me. No, he wasstudyingme, as if he could intuit the cause of my amnesia just from looking. As if he were puzzling through the problem with the same systematic winnowing down and testing of possible causes and solutions that he’d used on every problem he’d faced since we were old enough to wander Innswood with the other village children.
As if no scientific mystery woulddareconfound him for long.
“AmIa professor?” I asked him.
Desmond’s eyes widened. His skepticism waned.
Wilder laughed. “You and I are students.”
I turned to him, more relieved than I would have admitted. The only thing worse than forgetting part of my alchemy education would have been forgettingallof it. “What level?”
“This is the first week of year three for both of us,” he said. Then he sat up as footsteps hurried past my closed door in the distinctive cadence of a stairwell descent. “In fact, it’s the first day.”
Year three. Mastery year. The final year of studies at the Alchemary.
Trialsyear.
“No.” It was difficult enough to believe that I had no memory of being admitted to the Alchemary. Of getting my father’s blessing to attend, considering his distrust of this place.
Or had I simply attended without his blessing?
Regardless, forgetting my application, interview, and admission was one thing, but the rest of it? Two entire years of classes and research? Both the Fundamentals and Proficiency years, lost to…some strange phenomenon that had also stolen the memory of whatever Wilder and I had done last night. Not to mention everything that had led up to it.
“No.”The anger on the surface of my voice masked a churning depth of fear. How could I not remember my own life? My own skills and accomplishments? My…relationships?
