I laugh and give him a hug. “I’m glad to see you noticed I was missing.”
“But you’re okay?”
“Yeah, we were just out there getting us all one step closer to defeating Draven.” I sit beside him and drop my bag onto the floor at my feet. “So how’s everyone back at the mountain? Have you told Natesa you’re madly in love with her yet?”
“I have, actually.”
“Seriously?” I start laughing again. “I’m stunned.”
“I told her that if we all get out of this alive, I’m ignoring the rules. I’m not forming a union with some girl I’ve never met. Life seems too short not to spend it with the people we love, you know? I saw you and Ryn and—” He cuts himself off. “Uh, sorry. I . . . never mind.”
“What?” I nudge his elbow with my own. “Tell me.”
“I just . . . I saw his face the moment he realized you didn’t know who he was. That moment when he figured out you might never remember, and you might never love him again. And there I was knowing that I loved Natesa and knowing that she loved me too. How could I throw that away just because some ancient rule says I should be with someone else I don’t even know?”
I look down at my hands. Hearing him talk about Ryn like that, about how I’ve hurt him—intentionally or not—makes my insides squirm. But this isn’t about Ryn and me or my guilt that I messed things up for us; this is about Jamon and Natesa. “Yeah,” I say, forcing the smile back onto my face. “You did the right thing. I bet your father wasn’t too excited about it, though.”
Jamon rolls his eyes. “My father . . . That’s another story. But he’ll come around, I’m sure.”
We chat for a while as the dining room slowly empties. I tell Jamon about the bounty hunters and the floating island and my glimpse of the Unseelie Court, and he gives me more details on tomorrow night’s plan and tells me about the less than friendly welcome the reptiscillas received when they first got here. I try to apologize for my kind, but he waves my words away, assuring me it isn’t that bad anymore.
“It was actually quite funny,” he says, “the first day we were in the fixed-up Training Center with guardians, reptiscillas, elves, and all these other fae who stayed here for a few days of boot camp. The guardians were all lined up together, arms crossed and mega frowns on their faces. I swear, their expressions were like, ‘Seriously? You’re making us fight with them? The scum of the fae world?’ And by the end of the first day, you could see the surprise on their faces, like, ‘Hey, these guys might actually be able to help us.’”
“Good to know they came around in the end,” a voice from behind me says. “I was afraid some guardians’ prejudices could never be overcome.”
Ryn rounds the table and takes a seat opposite me. My stomach does a weird flip-flop kind of thing at the sight of him, as if it’s been weeks since I saw him instead of, well, minutes. Ridiculous. Seriously ridiculous.
“There are still a few who refuse to be friendly,” Jamon says, “but they’re not worth getting upset over.”
Ryn nods, and the two of them reach across the table and shake hands. They exchange a few words of greeting. Ryn’s smile is open and genuine, not like the guarded looks he gave Jamon when they first met. I guess his own Jealousy monster has vanished.
He leans on the table and says, “V, how’s your leg? Have you seen Uri?”
“Oh, no, I haven’t left the dining room yet.”
“Violet! Violet!” I look across the almost empty dining room and see the scrawny urisk hurrying toward me with one knobbly hand clenched around something.
“Well, speak of the fuzzy little devil, and there he is,” Ryn says.
“I’ve got it!” Uri pants out as he reaches me. “This is the one. The potion that will clear the effects of the other one that made you forget everything.”
My heart leaps up into my throat, but I force myself not to get too excited. “Uri, hi.” I swing my legs around to the other side of the bench so I can face him. “Um, how did you know I was back?”
“Oh, I have a new friend who’s been keeping me company.” He pats the front pocket of his lab coat. “He scouts around and keeps me updated on the latest happenings.”
A mouse pops its head out of Uri’s pocket. “Filigree?” I ask. He lets out a squeak when he sees me, then transforms into a small black bird with purple on the tips of his wings and flies to my shoulder. He chirps a few times before settling down. Does this mean he’s forgiven me for not remembering him?
“Anyway, here it is.” Uri hands me a small vial with a clear liquid inside.
I stare at it, then notice my fingers shaking ever so slightly. If this works, I’ll finally be me again. The real me. And Ryn will get me back the way he wants me. But I won’t get my hopes up, because I honestly think the chances of this potion working are slim. And let’s not forget about possible negative side effects that Uri knows nothing about.
“Don’t worry, Vi dear,” Uri says, “this is definitely the one.”
Definitely? For some reason, his certainty doesn’t make me feel any better. If anything, I trust the potion even less now. What if something awful happens to me? Like if I forget everything again and wake up on the dining room floor not knowing a thing? Wouldn’t it be better to stay the way I am now instead of putting everyone through that?
I look across the table at Ryn. His eyes meet mine, and his gaze is intent. “Take it,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. And that makes my mind up for me. If things were reversed, Ryn would do this for me. Where I’m cowardly and selfish, Ryn thinks of the people he loves first. He wouldn’t think about the risks to himself; he’d go ahead and swallow this stuff so that I could have him back.
So I’ll do this for him.
I pull the tiny cork from the top of the vial and tip the clear liquid back down my throat.
I keep my eyes locked on Ryn, as if his gaze is the anchor that could pull me back if things go terribly wrong. The potion heats my throat and burns a little on the way down, like alcohol. I imagine it spreading throughout my body, working its magic. I have no idea what actually happens or how it works, but in my imagination it looks like tiny gold sparkles spreading across everything.
I wait for memories to start pouring into my head. Or for darkness to surround me and steal away all the new memories I’ve accumulated since The Destruction. Or to feel violently ill and start throwing up. Or for some other unforeseen side effect.
Nothing happens.
Nothing. At. All.
“Well?” Uri says eventually. “Do you remember anything?”
I look down at the table before answering. I don’t want to see the look in Ryn’s eyes when I say the word. “No.” I raise my eyes to Uri’s. He doesn’t look as disappointed as I feared he would.
He nods and says to himself, “The catalyst. It isn’t there yet.”
I raise an eyebrow. I look over at Ryn, and his expression tells me he’s probably thinking the same thing I am: If something wasn’t ‘there yet,’ then why was Uri so sure this one would work?
“Uri,” Ryn says, clenching his fist on the table. “You told us this was ‘the one.’ Why would you give it to Violet if it wasn’t ready?”
“The potion was ready,” Uri tells him, no trace of doubt in his voice. “It’s Violet who isn’t.”
Ryn makes a concerted effort to flatten his clenched fist as he lets out a long breath and says, “Can you help Vi with a cut on her leg that won’t heal?” He stares at the table as he speaks, anger simmering beneath his voice. “I think it’s the same as the one I had on my cheek from that enchanted black blade.”
“Certainly,” Uri says, apparently oblivious to the tension he’s created around the table. “Come with me, Vi.” He squeezes his way between the tables. I pick up my bag and follow him.
*
I return to my room with Filigree on my shoulder and a tiny jar of enchanted salve in my hand. I drop my bag next to my bed and sit down. I try to roll up my pants l
eg, but even though the fabric is stretchy, it’s not stretchy enough to roll higher than my knee. That’s probably one of the reasons my leg’s been in so much pain—too-tight pants. So I remove them. I sit down again and unscrew the jar’s lid. After a moment’s pause, where I imagine my embarrassment if someone barged into my room without knocking, I wave my hand at the armchair in the corner and send it scraping across the floor and into the door. Perfect. At least I’ll have some warning if someone tries to walk in without knocking.
The salve soothes my burning skin. I cover the reddened area completely before lying back on the bed. Filigree turns into a cat—ginger-colored this time—and sits by my left foot, wrapping his tail neatly around his paws. He stares at me, blinking once in a while.
“What?” I ask eventually. “Are you trying to say something?”
He flicks one ear.
“Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t know what that means.”
He narrows his eyes.
“I really am sorry!” I sit up and lean on my elbows. “I mean, you’re . . . like . . . super awesome. Probably the coolest pet ever. So it really does suck that I’ve forgotten all the fun times we must have had. But you’re alive, and I’m alive, and assuming we both make it through tomorrow night, we’ll have plenty of years ahead of us to have new fun times. Right?”
He stretches forward and rests his ginger head on my ankle.
“Does that mean you agree with me? You’re not angry with me? You . . . think my bony ankle makes a good pillow?”
He shifts his head a little and opens his eyes. He starts the staring thing again.
With a sigh, I slide my elbows forward and let myself drop back onto the pillow. My mind is restless. I can’t believe everything is happening tomorrow night. “What if tomorrow’s the end for all of us, Filigree? I mean, this is Draven we’re talking about. Most powerful guy our world has ever known. Even if Oliver storms in there with hundreds of guardians, Draven might just swat them into nonexistence as if they’re nothing more than pesky sprites.”
Filigree moves his head again, and I feel something wet brush my skin. His nose, maybe. Or his tongue.
“I just wish I had more time to spend with Ryn. I know, I know, we’ve just spent a week in super close proximity, but somehow that makes me what to be around him even more. I know I’m supposed to like him, but now I think I actually really do. Like him. A lot. And it’s weird, because I haven’t exactly known him long—in this lifetime, I mean—but I feel like I kind of . . . connect with him. And he’s easy to talk to. I mean, we spent hours and hours talking when we were locked up in that prison, and it never got boring. Okay, there was that awkwardness in the beginning, but that doesn’t count.” I raise my head and find Filigree’s eyes closed. “And you’re not even listening to me.” I drop down again with a sigh. I’ve definitely spent too much time around Tilly because I wouldn’t normally say so many words out loud at once.
I stare at the ceiling for a while longer, going over combat moves and running through the list of weapons available to me in my guardian arsenal. I know my favorite is the bow and arrow, and I’ve used others, like knives, daggers and swords. But Ryn was the one who told me, from the other side of a prison wall, just how many different weapons we guardians have. I’m looking forward to trying out the whip. That should be fun. I should probably practice first, though.
Tomorrow. I’ll be doing a lot of practicing tomorrow.
I don’t know how long I daydream about weapons before my thoughts go back to Ryn. I close my eyes and let my mind wander to see if I can find him. The image comes to me almost immediately. As if I’m seeing through his eyes, I watch him pull his bedroom door shut, pause for a moment, then head down the corridor. The image vanishes, and the darkness behind my eyelids returns.
I bend my knee and raise my leg so I can take a look at the cut on my thigh. Surprisingly, I see little more than a pink line surrounded by healthy skin. I guess some of Uri’s stuff does actually work.
A loud knock at the door makes me jump, and I feel the automatic tingle in my hand that means I was just about to grab a weapon. Good to know my reflexes are still working.
“Um, just hang on,” I call as I jump up from the bed, kicking Filigree in the process. He lets out an unhappy yelp.
“Everything okay in there?” It’s Ryn. Crap. Must find clothes.
“Yeah, just give me a minute.” I rummage through my bag for the pair of loose-fitting pants Natesa gave me. My leg would probably appreciate not being smothered again until it’s fully healed. I tug the pants on, give the armchair a magical shove out of the way, and open the door.
Ryn lifts his gaze from the floor and smiles at me. It isn’t his cocky, self-assured smile. It’s almost a smile that’s trying too hard. And from the way he twists his hands together, then pushes them into his pockets, then pulls them out and holds them behind his back, I’d say he’s nervous. But my experience of Ryn tells me he doesn’t get nervous, so . . . I’m a little confused now.
“So, uh, I’ve been thinking,” he starts.
“Is that a good thing?” I try to give him a cute half-smile, to let him know I’m joking. I bet I look like a total idiot.
“Not always,” his nervous smile turns into the smile that makes legs feel like they just did a hundred leg presses. “But I’d like to believe it was the right thing to do this time.”
“So these thoughts led you to . . . my door?”
“Yup.” He hesitates, and the smile slips from his face as he becomes more serious. He looks at the floor again. “From the moment we wake up tomorrow morning, we’re going to be preparing for the biggest and most important fight of our lives. And the reality is . . . we might not survive it.” He reaches for one of my hands, and his voice has just the tiniest shake in it when he says, “So if tonight is the last night we ever have, I want to spend it with you.”
For one incredibly stupid moment, I think he means here, like, in my bed. Which makes my stomach hit the floor because that is so not happening. Then I remind myself that Ryn has been nothing but decent since I arrived here, so he can’t possibly mean he wants to spend the night with me like that.
He must have picked up on my moment of horror because he drops my hand and adds, “Unless you don’t want to, of course.”
“No! I mean—yes, I want to . . . spend the night with you.” Are my cheeks as hot as they feel? And why am I so shy all of a sudden? Wasn’t I just telling Filigree how easy it is to talk to Ryn?
“Okay.” He takes my hand again. “I’d like to show you something then.”
I nod, maybe a little too quickly. “Um, just let me get something on my feet.”
“Oh, no, you can go barefoot.” He shuts my door for me and leads me along the corridor. We descend the main stairway, past the first level of bedrooms, where Ryn stays, and past the ground level where people are heading to the dining room for dinner. Down one more level, and then we’re heading left, past Uri’s laboratory. Ryn shifts his hand in my grasp and laces his fingers between mine. My heart starts thrumming like a hummingbird’s wings, and I seriously hope my hands aren’t sweating.
Ryn slows and gestures for me to go through a doorway on my left. I walk inside and take in the sight of a large hall with exercise mats and running rectangles and ropes and poles and weights and . . . a whole lot of other things that make me itch to get my muscles moving and my blood pumping.
“This is the Training Center,” Ryn says. “All Guilds have one. They’re pretty similar.”
“Okay. The Training Center is where I spent a gazillion more hours than anyone else who ever set foot in our Guild, right?” I wink at him.
He matches my grin and squeezes my hand. “That would be correct.”
“So did you bring me here for some last minute training?”
“As fun as it would be to show you I can still kick your ass—”
“Oh, I highly doubt that.”
“—no. We’re going over there.” He points a
cross the hall to an enormous orb shimmering in the corner. “I don’t know what its real name is, but at our Guild we always called it the Fish Bowl. We use it to practice one-on-one combat in all kinds of settings because the inside can be made to look like anything you want it to look like.”
“One-on-one combat, huh?” I raise an eyebrow. “So you did bring me here so I can kick your ass.”
With a smile playing on his lips, he shakes his head. “Just wait and see.” We reach the edge of the orb, and he lets go of my hand. The orb’s substance is like smoke swirling inside glass, but when I touch it, my hand goes right through, vanishing into the eddying whiteness. “Go in,” Ryn says. “I’ll be right behind you.”
I step forward. Ghostly white tendrils curl around me as I pass through the orb’s outer ring. And when I get to the other side . . . my breath catches in the back of my throat. I’m in a forest scene at night. Not a dead, snow-covered forest like the ones out there in the real world, but a forest alive with magic, color, and light. Glow-bugs dot the trees and leaves, creating their own tiny orbs of gold light, and the river that travels past me seems to be full of floating golden glow-bugs. A small row boat rests in the water, nudging the bank. Sprites with glittering blue wings prance across one of the oars before fluttering into the trees.
“I like to think that special moments should happen in special places,” Ryn says quietly, “and since there isn’t anywhere special inside this base, I decided to make a special place.”
“It’s amazing,” I whisper, afraid of speaking too loudly in case I ruin something.
“I happen to know you’re a fan of glow-bugs. Or, more specifically, glow-bug butts. That’s what made you fall in love with me the first time.”
I laugh. “I don’t believe you.”
He shrugs. “One day you’ll remember, and then you’ll know if I’m telling the truth or not.”
“So . . . it doesn’t normally look like this in here?”