That pulls a surprised laugh from him, the sound rusty but genuine. "Hi."
"I remember you now."
"Good." He kisses me gently, tenderly, completely different from the frantic passion of minutes ago. "Because I'm never letting you forget again."
21
MALREC
Istand in Damiros's receiving hall, hands clasped behind my back to hide their tremor. Not from fear—from rage so potent it requires physical constraint to prevent destruction. The space around me reflects my brother's aesthetic perfectly: clean lines, polished obsidian, strategic lighting that casts no harsh shadows. Everything controlled. Everything deliberate.
Everything false.
Three days ago, I held Lenna in my arms and remembered everything. The memories didn't return gradually or gently—they crashed through my mind like a tidal surge breaching containment wards. Months of stolen moments, conversations, touches, promises. Months of falling in love with someone I was never supposed to want. Months erased like they never existed.
Except they did exist. And someone made sure we forgot.
The door opens behind me. I don't turn immediately, letting Damiros enter his own space while I continue to examine the room as though seeing it for the first time. Which, in a way, I am. I remember being here before—remember Damiros expressing concern about my "attachment" to a human laborer, rememberhis suggestions that I reconsider my choices. At the time, his warnings felt like brotherly care.
Now I know better.
"Malrec." His voice carries its usual measured warmth. "I didn't expect you. Is everything well at the estate?"
I turn slowly, studying my brother's face. He's composed as always, posture relaxed, expression open and mildly curious. Nothing in his bearing suggests guilt or concern. If I hadn't remembered everything, if Lenna and I were still trapped in that horrible liminal space of half-recognition and fractured dreams, I might believe this performance.
"Lenna and I got our memories back."
The words land between us like dropped stone. For just a fraction of a second—so brief I might have imagined it if I weren't watching specifically for it—something flickers across Damiros's face. Not quite fear. Not quite resignation. Something closer to calculation.
Then it's gone, replaced by carefully constructed confusion. "Your memories? Mal, I don't understand what you?—"
"Don't." The word comes out harder than I intend, sharp enough that Damiros actually takes a small step backward. "Don't insult me by pretending you don't know what I'm talking about."
"I genuinely don't know what?—"
"A year ago, I brought a human named Lenna Fentris to the estate." My voice remains level through sheer force of will. "She worked in the stables. We fell in love. We were planning to complete a mate bond." I pause, watching his face. "And then one morning, we both woke up with no memory of each other. She was gone from the estate, reassigned through channels I didn't authorize. I went back to my normal routine like she'd never existed. Until the slave company sent her back here, andsuddenly my life became impossible because every instinct I have was screaming that something was wrong."
Damiros's expression shifts toward concern, but it feels rehearsed. Like he's deciding which reaction will serve him best. "That's—Mal, that's not possible. Memory manipulation of that scale would require incredibly powerful magic, and?—"
"Stop lying to me." I take a step forward. Then another. Damiros holds his ground but tension creeps into his shoulders. "I remember everything now. Every conversation we had where you told me I was making a mistake. Every warning about the 'complications' of mating a human. Every suggestion that I end things before they went too far." My hands unclench from behind my back, fingers flexing at my sides. "I remember the last time I saw you before the memories disappeared. You came to the estate. You seemed upset. And the next morning, she was gone and I couldn't remember why she mattered."
"You're mistaken about my involvement?—"
"Am I?" I'm close enough now that he has to tilt his head slightly to maintain eye contact. "Then explain why you looked like you'd seen a ghost when you first encountered Lenna in the stables. Explain why you were so insistent I remove her from my household. Explain why you kept trying to convince me to send her away."
His jaw tightens minutely. "Because she was disrupting your work. The beasts were responding to her instead of you, and?—"
"And you were afraid the bond would reassert itself." The pieces fall into place with sickening clarity. "You knew what we were to each other. You saw her and realized your spell or curse or whatever the fuck you did was starting to fail. That's why you wanted her gone. You were trying to prevent exactly what happened."
Damiros's mask finally cracks. Not much—just a slight narrowing of his eyes, a tightening around his mouth thatsuggests I've hit close enough to truth that denials won't hold. "Malrec, you need to calm down and think rationally about?—"
I move without conscious decision, closing the remaining distance and slamming my palm against the wall beside his head. The impact echoes through the hall. Damiros flinches but doesn't retreat further, probably because there's nowhere left to go. "Tell me the truth. Now. Or I swear by the Seven I will tear this place apart until I find evidence of what you did."
For a long moment, he just stares at me. Something works behind his eyes—some internal debate about whether continued denial serves him better than confession. Finally, his shoulders drop fractionally and his expression shifts into something harder. More honest.
More ugly.
"Fine." The word is clipped. "Yes. I arranged for your memories to be bound. Both of yours."
