"Valentina," Marcellus says grimly. "Makers can manipulate their progeny's memories. Especially in the first year, before the bond fully settles. It's one of the darker aspects of our kind."
Celeste looks at me, and for the first time since I've known her, I see real fear in her eyes. Not the fear of battle or death, she's faced both without flinching. This is deeper. The fear of not knowing yourself. Of having pieces of your own mind locked away where you can't reach them.
"What did she do to me?" she whispers. "What don't I remember?"
I don't have an answer.
But I'm going to find one.
Whatever it takes.
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
Rome.
The word circles through my mind like a vulture, patient and relentless. I'm sitting in Maximus's study, trying to reach for something that keeps slipping away.
Rome. Rome. Rome.
What happened in Rome?
I close my eyes and push inward, searching for the memory. It has to be there. Somewhere in the dark corners of my mind, locked away where I can't reach it.
Nothing. Just darkness, and the frustrating sense of something hovering just beyond my grasp.
"Anything?"
Maximus's voice is gentle. He's been watching me for the past hour, patient as only an immortal can be. Not pushing. Just present.
"Shadows." I open my eyes and rub my temples. "When I focus on the word, I get flashes. Light on water. The smell of old stone. Fear." I shake my head. "Nothing concrete."
He moves from his chair to kneel in front of me, taking my hands in his. "Memory manipulation is complex. The harder you push, the more the barriers resist. It's designed that way."
"Then how do I break through?"
"Time. Triggers. Sometimes blood from the maker can unlock what they sealed." His jaw tightens. "Though that would require access to Valentina."
"Which we might have tomorrow night."
"Which we might have," he agrees. "If we go."
If. Such a small word to carry so much weight.
I look down at our joined hands. His are larger than mine, scarred in places from centuries of violence. Strong hands. Capable hands.
"What if Rome is the reason I'm here?" I ask quietly.
"Then we'll deal with it."
"How can you be so calm about this?"
"Because I've survived centuries by preparing for the worst while hoping for the best." He squeezes my hands. "And because I refuse to let fear of what might be poison what actually is."
"What actually is?"
"You. Me. This." He brings my hands to his lips, kisses my knuckles.
