“Apologies, but if you were in the situation that I currently find myself, your fuse would be short as well.”
“Okay,” I said slowly, trying to digest what he was saying, “so do you only need a small memory spell or a large one.”
“When one loses their entire memory, I would think a large one would be required to fix it.”
“You’ve lost your entire memory. As in, you have amnesia?”
“Yes,” he said, annoyed, “I’ve lost my entire memory, so I suppose the correct diagnosis would be amnesia.”
How horrible. Suddenly I felt sorry for this brusque man. I inspected a green orb and found it to be an enchantment spell, so I dropped it. “What happened? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”
“I don’t mind because I don’t actually know.” He took a few steps forward and stopped in a patch of moonlight that fully illuminated him. Yes, my initial survey of him had been correct—straight, muscular shoulders, taut thighs. He wore leather. No, that hadn’t been in my initial observation, but I noted it now.
“You don’t know what happened?”
He shook his head. “I only know that I found myself not far from here, in a cornfield. Seeing as cornfields and men in leather pants do not go together, I left until I found this place.”
“Did you walk?”
“Again, no memory, and with no memory, that means I don’t actually remember how to work spells, though I can sense where they are, and if in physical form like they are here”—he tapped a white orb—“I can read them.”
My heart broke for him. His bristly demeanor made perfect sense. He was wounded, and I understood wounds. Heck, they were second nature to me.
“Let’s see if we can find a memory spell and get you out of this mess,” I said.
“That would be most kind… I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”
I saw no reason not to tell him. After all, he wasn’t here to harm me. “Clementine Cooke.”
“Clementine Cooke.” The words on his lips sent a fissure of electricity running down my spine. “I would tell you mine, but of course, I can’t remember it.”
He turned around, giving me a perfect look at him. His skin was luminescent under the moonlight, which highlighted a strong brow, dark, glittering eyes and refined features. In his eyes lived a world of sorrow, a depth that I didn’t recall seeing the last time that I had gazed into his face.
My gut clenched and my chest constricted so hard I thought it might squeeze my heart to a standstill. Before me stood the man who had taken me that night, long ago. This was the same wizard who had tried and failed to steal my magic. He had attempted to drain every drop of magic from me.
My chest tightened. It constricted so hard that I thought it would cut off my breathing. I inhaled slowly and stared at him, the fear I’d felt shifting into anger.
He might not remember who he was, but I did. His name was Rufus Mayes, and right now I only cared about one thing—revenge.
Chapter 7
Istrode up to Rufus and pressed my arm to his. The look of shock on his face was no match for the wave of anger that flew from me and knocked him on his back.
Surprise and fear filled his eyes. Good. I wanted him to be afraid. I swore that if I ever saw him again, he would pay for what he had stolen from me—my security.
“Wait,” he called out, hands raised. “I’m sorry. Whatever I did—turned around too quickly, scared you—I apologize. Please, I only want my memory, not to bother or hurt you. That’s all I want.”
I stopped, fists clenched, and stared at him. There were moments in life that forever changed the trajectory of who you were. I remembered the woman I was before him—carefree and trusting—and I thought about the woman I was now—guarded and cautious. Who would future me be? Would I be an angry soul, one who hurt people every chance she had? Or would I be compassionate?
I studied Rufus, looked deeply into his eyes, trying to see if this entire scenario was a trick to steal me away again. Had he searched until he found me and then used the orbs to lure me down to the woods so that he could finish what he’d started all those years ago?
Or was he being honest? Had he really lost his memory—which served him right, by the way—and had no clue how to use magic?
The Rufus Mayes that I had known would already have lashed out at me. He would have fought back. Or even still, when he turned around, Rufus would have made his move. He wouldn’t have waited so long.
My heart told me so. The man who lay on the ground before me did not know who he was—what he had done and what he was capable of doing.
He had no clue; but I did. The question was, what was I going to do with my knowledge.
