Cassandra cocked her head. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve somehow made them immune to memory pulling,” Borea answered. “The memories come out, but without any loss of remembrance on their part. And not a single one of them has been re-obliviated.”
Cassandra marveled at her limbs, warm and tingly after the six restorations she’d just performed.
“How… do you think it has something to do with Tristan’s magic?”
Upon hearing his name, Tristan ambled over. “What about my magic?”
“It seems as though our combined power makes humans immune to obliviation. Offers them protection against it.”
Awe—and something deeper—flashed across Tristan’s face. “You’re incredible,” he breathed, the exhalation nearly a prayer.
Borea’s gaze volleyed between them, and she stepped away to tend to the couple.
Cassandra pressed a hand against Tristan’s solid chest. “Only because you’ve made me that way.”
Tristan settled a hand over hers. “We're better together.”
“Tristan, I—”
The metal grate clanked open to reveal a woman with gray-streaked dark hair, and any intentions Cassandra had for starting this heart-pounding conversation with Tristan snuffed out like a candle in a chill wind.
Mama’s slow feet dragged across the dirt floor, leaving a trail of dust as a young woman—likely a member of the Temple kitchen staff—guided her over.
“I thought it was time to try,” Borea said as she rejoined them.
Cassandra’s throat thickened and her sinuses burned. “What if…what if it doesn’t work?”
Tristan cradled her face. “You have to try, Cass. Don’t let the fear win. Not over something this important.”
He sounded like Reena. Though she could’ve sworn he was talking about something else.
She blew out a quivering breath. “Okay.”
The certainty in Tristan’s gaze strengthened her.
It always had.
“Okay,” she said, more firmly, calling up scraps of confidence.
Tristan released her, and she approached her mother. Dark, vacant eyes stared through her, past her. Seeing nothing at all.
“I’ll give you some privacy,” Tristan said, turning away, but Cassandra stilled him.
“No, please,” she whispered. “Stay with me.”
A small smile graced his lips. “Always.”
He tucked in behind her, a solid, reassuring wall of warmth and strength at her back.
Borea stepped off to the side with the young woman who’d escorted Mama, observing with tense stillness.
Cassandra had so few memories of her mother before the obliviation, the clearest of which was Mama wailing by the front door on the night her father died.
Too cruel a vision to use for a restoration.
Cassandra closed her eyes, pitching herself back in time to the small, cozy house she’d shared with her parents, scrolling through half-remembered scenes and snippets.
