“I did not.” Soren took the offered plate. Somehow, the way he said that with a sigh and a small smile sounded like an unspoken “thank you.” He ate with manners, even though I could tell he was starving.
As he ate the last bite, Gwen and Julian returned. Peregrin and Lore had gotten things down to a science and had the next group ready to go within minutes. After this fourth group left, Peregrin and Lore started whispering about what to feed the remaining people for breakfast and how they should start taking shifts to sleep. I took the opportunity to ask Soren what I’d been wondering the last few hours. “Where is Gwen taking them?”
“Across the veil.” Soren leaned forward to rest his arms on his knees, clearly exhausted. “Most of them are from surrounding cities, but she’s dropping the ones who can’t remember where they came from in strategic places, such as police stations and shelters, where other humans will help them.”
I curled up in my chair, sinking into the soft cushion and leaning my head back. “Why doesn’t she take them all at once?”
“I fear we might accidentally lose someone in the commotion. Sometimes their awareness hasn’t fully returned or they don’t entirely trust us.”
“You don’t want to risk them running off in the wrong direction?” I guessed.
He nodded. With a weary sigh, he gave in to his exhaustion, leaning back into the couch cushion like me and closing his eyes. “That’s one concern. Then there’s also the fact that large groups of humans returning to a city all at once would look suspicious.”
I frowned. “If you don’t want them to tell, you probably shouldn’t have rescued them.” Then I winced. Why had I said that? What kind of idiot would discourage him from helping these people? But it was the truth. People talked, and at the very least, they all would have a lot to discuss with their therapists when they got home. More likely, a group this size would put the fae on national news. No way was I going to tell Soren that though.
He sighed again, running a hand through his hair and messing it up further. “In the new contract they sign with us, we take some precautions.”
I narrowed my eyes. “How so?”
“It’s nothing nefarious,” he assured me. This late at night, his blue eyes seemed more vulnerable, like he’d forgotten to keep his walls up and was giving me a glimpse into his soul. “We include language that says they won’t be able to utter a word about our kind or tell anyone where they’ve been. If we had more time, we would also employ a human to write tailored letters detailing stories of where they’d been and enchant them to be believable, but as it is, we don’t have time and must rely on the contract to protect us. As they reenter their different cities across the human world, it will seem as if they had amnesia.”
That sounded like the magic that kept me from talking about Mom. “Do they know they’re agreeing to this? Are they even reading their contracts?”
“No.” He looked down. “Better to let them get home first to see their loved ones. They’ll find out soon enough.”
“That’s...” I didn’t know what to call it. Horrible? Taking someone’s speech away wasn’t right. But also, I hated that I understood. Soren was trying to save these people without harming his own.
An idea slowly came to me.
“This ‘amnesia’ thing where a deal keeps someone from talking...” I began slowly, feeling out the words to make sure I could say them. “I have that with... something else. Is there a way to break it?”
“No.” His answer knocked the air out of me. If I couldn’t find a way to tell someone about Mom, how would I ever track her down?
“But you can talkaroundit,” he surprised me by adding, rousing himself to sit up straighter and turn toward me. “And find a way to give me hints.”
“Hints,” I repeated.
He leaned forward, tenting his hands in front of his face. “I’ll pay attention.”
I took a tense breath, nodding.Okay. Hints. What could I say that would lead him to ask the right questions? I lit up. “Do you have that logbook handy? The one where you wrote down our names and everyone else who came through here?”
His head tilted slightly. “You know someone else who came through the south entrance?” he asked as he slowly stood, moving toward his desk.
I followed.
When I didn’t speak—because I couldn’t get the words out to answer him—he turned to look back, and I was able to nod.
“Family?”
I nodded again.
His expression was grim. I’d told him about my immediate family, and there was one clear vacancy. “Your mother?”
A single nod.
I touched my wet cheek. I hadn’t even realized I was crying. But the relief of someone else knowing, someone who was capable of speaking about it, shook me. Each time I wiped my eyes, they instantly filled up again.
“I’m sorry, Brynn.”
