Buried deep beneath the hurt and the anger was the seed of knowledge that just as Jude had been manipulated and deceived, so had Elden. And he needed to know why. Needed to cut off the final thread of the Abbey’s malignant touch once and for all. Find a way to move on, if there was even anything remaining to be salvaged.
But how?
It came to him slowly, in bits and pieces, until a picture formed in three parts.
The first was his books. How he’d learned to press his hands to their pages and give of himself. He knew how to search his brain for what he wanted to uncover and dredge it to the surface with the precision of a surgeon. A skill he had won with time and stubbornness and desperation.
The second was of Maeve in that cursed Abbey classroom, laying her hand over his eyes until his vision was restored. Using her magic to help him remember how to see, as she’d put it.
And the third was of Bethan. Her magic, so pure andgoodto her, was a gift she’d long tried to convince him to cherish. He’d never been able to see it as anything less than a burden.
Perhaps it was time to change his outlook. Time to use his magic for good.
His arms trembled as he levered himself upright. ‘Elden? Can you come here?’
His eyes drifted across Jude’s face. Slowly, as if controlling his body from somewhere far away, he bent his legs and sat. Maeve shifted to give him space, the hand on Jude’s chest moving to his thigh. She squeezed encouragingly.
Jude forced himself to take Elden’s hand. His work-roughenedskin was clammy and cold, fingers slack. Pushing past the discomfort, Jude closed his eyes. Like he did with his books, like he had accidentally done so many times before when his emotions were high, he allowed his magic to leap forward between him and Elden.
At first, he could only see fog. Gold and white with a sickly sweetness that slunk into his nose, down his throat. He fought a gag. Pushing down towards that soft, confusing place where his magic lived inside him, he pictured a strong gale coming from the sea, salt-tinged and refining.
A steady warmth filled him as he called upon his magic. It flowed freely, leaving behind an almost euphoric energy in his limbs. Was this how it was always meant to feel, free from the Abbey’s touch? Was it always meant to be something so pure, so clarifying, like the first gasp of air after drowning?
Jude focused, letting it fill him – happy, for once, to be consumed.
Slowly, the fog inched back. Somewhere deep in Elden’s brain, his memories trembled.
Realmemories.
Jude pressed harder, commanding his magic to remind Elden he had a body, he had a mind – preferences and opinions, likes and dislikes. Pieces of a person that made up a whole. As the haze continued to roll back, a strange sense of peace swept in its place. The steadiness of a cup of tea at bedtime, a walk in the moors. A rag for his hands when he came in from the garden.
You, you, you, Jude begged.This is you.
Elden’s hand slipped from his, his body jolting. He panted, looking around wildly until his gaze fell on Jude. He stilled as recognition coloured his features.
‘Jude,’ he murmured.
‘Ah good, you’re back.’ Jude pushed himself fully upright, trying his best to quell the instinctual softness he felt towards Elden and focus only on his anger. If Elden was here, if he waslucid, he could answer his questions. ‘I’m owed an explanation, Elden,’ he said. ‘At the very least.’
Maeve’s hand on his thigh stiffened before pulling away completely.
Elden took a deep, shuddering breath. He reached towards Jude, dropping his hand back into his lap when Jude flinched. ‘I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am.’
Jude wouldn’t let the pain in his voice sway him. ‘You’re Ezra’s son.’
‘I – yes. I am.’
‘And your memories are back?’ Jude asked.
Elden’s chest moved roughly up and down. ‘Yes. All—’ he cleared his throat. ‘All of them.’
‘What happened once Felix and I helped you escape all those years ago?’ Jude asked, pressing forward no matter how much it hurt. ‘Did you always plan to betray me, or was that something you decided after getting to know me? A fun little side diversion, perhaps? Something to keep the boredom away?’
Elden’s only reaction to his acerbity was a slight tightening of his mouth. ‘I was a woodsman for many years. Hiding from the Abbey. From… from my father. Then, the winter before I came to Ánhaga, I fell ill. A horrible fever. They found me then, when I was too weak to fight back.’ His gaze flicked to Felix’s, leaving just as quickly. ‘The Abbey’s hold was immediate. I couldn’t defy it. Couldn’t even remember what was happening until just there now.’
Maeve inched closer, laying her hand on his forearm. Elden smiled at her faintly.
Jude cleared his throat. ‘And then what?’
