Nothing seemed familiar. Keep Bryden was just a keep, a craggy, mossy old castle with high, forbidding walls and a maelstrom of trees and undergrowth growing tightly all around it. A wide, well-maintained cobbled path led up to the gates, which were guarded by a handful of guards.
She wondered if Mason was here already, waiting to greet them. She remembered him, of course, from before the bride swap treaty. Faithful, trustworthy Mason, who had always been there, always ready to help.
Still, there was no sign of him when they trotted through the gates. Feeling eyes on her, Skye glanced over to find Evander watching her carefully.
“Do ye remember anything?” he asked. “We came in this way when ye first arrived.”
She shook her head regretfully. “None of it seems familiar. I’m sorry.”
“No need to be sorry, lass.”
“It’s beautiful, though.” She tilted her head back, breathing in deeply and closing her eyes. “The air smells green.”
He gave a huff of laughter. “That’s the same thing ye said when I brought ye here before.”
“Really?”
“Oh, aye. I remember because I thought it was such a strange thing to say, but also nae at all surprising to hear from ye.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I daenae say strange things.”
He lifted his hands from the reins. “I never said that ye did.”
She felt an incomprehensible smile tugging at the corners of her mouth and hastily tucked it away. Now wasn’t the time to let herself get distracted. Surely this keep would be full of potential memories for her to uncover. After all, she’d come here directly after the festival and lived here. Here was where she’d decided to marry Evander. Surely the place must hold someclues as to how that happened.
They trotted across the courtyard, and a pair of wide-eyed stable lads came forward to take the reins.
The second the soles of their boots hit the ground, all hell broke loose.
Guards rushed forward, talking earnestly to Evander. Skye heard half-shouted questions aimed toward him, repeated when there was no answer. Before she could even pat her horse goodbye—the mare tried to bite her, of course—a gaggle of women swept around her.
“Lady Bryden, Lady Bryden, ye are home!” one gasped.
Another woman tugged at her sleeve. “Is it true that ye have lost yer memories?”
“Oh, but ye must remember me, me Lady? Do ye remember me?”
“I’m Susan. I met ye first when ye came here!”
“Do ye want mint tea and shortbread? I remember that it was yer favorite!”
“Hush, lass! She doesnae wantteaandshortbread. She wants a bath, daenae ye, me Lady?”
“Do ye truly remembernothing?”
It was impossible to tell who was saying what. The women crowded eagerly around her, all chattering, making her head spin.
Skye longed to press her hands over her ears and block out the noise.
None of them seemed malicious, only keen for her to look at them, to speak to them. Their faces blurred, and she fought to keep a polite smile on her face, not to recoil. That would hurt their feelings, and it wasn’t fair… wasn’t fair to?—
“Oy!” Evander’s voice rang out sharply. He elbowed his way through his guards, dismissing them with a brisk wave of his hand. “Lassies, give her space. Now!”
The women, cowed, shuffled back, their heads bowed.
“Do ye remember any of these women?” he murmured, his voice low.
Skye bit her lower lip. “I daenae.”
