Page 72 of Facade

“You seemed cold.”

“Gee, I wonder why? Maybe because you knocked me unconscious while I was naked in a fucking hot spring?” I seethed.

“I didn’t knock you out,” he said, dark amusement in his eyes.

“Let’s start over.” The Witch stepped forward, pinching the bridge of her nose. I pressed hard enough against the wall that a sharp point nearly broke skin.

She stopped, putting her hand to her chest.

“I’m Aniah.” She offered a smile. “Yes, I’m one of the Sisters. I believe Cressida has done this to you. Yes?” Her voice was gentle, and she seemed sincere. I stared at her warily. Other than her eyes, she didn’t have the air of malice Cressida reveled in. No ink showed on her exposed skin.

She was stunning—her amber skin smooth. Flawless. Not one dark hair out of place where it lay at her shoulders. Her plain, light blue dress and black cloak were tattered, as if she’d been traveling for a while. But that was the only sign of wear and tear. She had a presence similar to Thaddeus—one that demanded respect and pulled me in. Urging me to trust her. So I gave her a curt nod, willing to hear her out. The male behind her only watched. Silver flashed across that electric blue every time he cut his gaze toward the Witch… Aniah. Recognition hit me. My eyes flared—

“You’re… You’re the missing Sister.” They both tensed.

She ignored my question and asked, “Your marks, how are they?”

My brows furrowed as I held my hands out, then looked at my ankles—the pain was almost nonexistent. Only a whisper compared to what it normally was.

“They’re… fine. How did you—”

“Hello? I’m back. I’ve got—” A female walked into the cave, carrying saddlebags over her shoulder. She wore leggings, and the only thing around her breasts was a strange brown wrap. Her midriff and arms were exposed entirely despite the icy air. Her alabaster skin was reddened, presumably by the cold. Her blonde hair escaped a single braid as if she’d been moving fast. But her strange, revealing garb wasn’t what had my eyes widening in disbelief.

“Freesia?!” I blurted.

She stared at me, dumbfounded, her mouth working but unable to form words.

Aniah cleared her throat. “Yes, I believe the two of you have met. Freesia has been helping us.”

“So you knew who I was? When we walked into your shop?”

“Not… exactly,” she said cautiously, her eyes flicking to Aniah, then the brute. “But I knew who the captain was. By reputation, that is.”

“He thought he knew you.” I shook my head, thinking back to that day.

“I’d never met him.” Freesia offered me a small smile as she dropped the bags down with a thud. Her eyes darted between the rest of us before she addressed Aniah—

“I thought this wasn’t happening for a few more days,” she said, uneasily.

“I saw an opportunity.” The male casually strolled forward. My gaze slanted toward him, and my eye caught on the ink that covered his right shoulder, down to his bicep—the pattern made no sense. Yet… I could almost swear the band at the base of the tattoo looked similar to the band of ink on my bicep. That would be impossible, though.

He snatched some black fabric from a bag on the ground and pulled it over his head.

Freesia scowled at him. “I understand why Aniah'ss fed up with you.” She then slipped a tunic over her strange corset-wrap-thing. The wall became my permanent shield as I pressed harder against it, pulling the blanket tighter around me.

Aniah turned toward me. “I would love to explain all of this to you right now, but there isn’t much time.”

“What do you want from me?” I demanded, voice firm despite my slice of fear. “Why did you kidnap me?”

The male snorted. “That’s rich.”

“Stop it,” Aniah chastised before turning back to me. “We want to help you.” She offered me an encouraging smile that I didn’t return.

“What do you mean… help me?”

“Aniah believes she can restore your memory.” His gaze pressed in until my knees threatened to give as he folded his arms. Freesia moved from foot to foot.

“Why would you want to help me? How did you know I have no memories? Who are you?”