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“Take your time,” Vas said as I hurried into the bathroom and closed the door. There was a large mirror above the sink. I stared at myself, unable to decide how and what I was feeling. A part of me was embarrassed, because Vas had gone down on me and I’d expressed my enjoyment loud enough that I suspected Sven might’ve heard us in the next room. My cheeks were flushed bright red, my lips tender from his kisses.
What was I getting myself into?
18.
When I emerged from the bathroom, Vas was sitting on the edge of the bed, hands folded in his lap. My eyes traced his shoulders as I walked to the window and peered out. I didn’t recognise the city, but then again I hadn’t been very many places.
Aside from a few family holidays, I’d spent most of my life in Tribane. My journey had barely begun, but staring out at the strange city, I was filled with excitement for the future. I could go anywhere, do anything.
So why was I so fixated on returning to a place that would catch and imprison me again as soon as it got the chance?
My heart had bonded itself to the miners’ cause and I couldn’t abandon them. There were so many people there like Maya, people whose lives would be cut short for no good reason at all. So many kids like Demi, who could thrive in a world that gave them a chance.
Warmth met my back. Vas stood behind me, his arms sliding around my waist.
“I lied to you, you know,” he said and I blinked, twisting to meet his gaze.
“You lied?”
“About the time I first saw you. I didn’t merely see you and mark you. We interacted.”
I turned around fully, breaking his hold as I stared at him. “What are you talking about? We didn’t interact. I would’ve remembered.”
Vas shook his head. “I erased your memories with a spell.”
My eyes widened as my shoulders stiffened. “You did what?”
“It’s true that I was watching your parents, hatching my plans, but then I bumped into you. I should’ve left you alone but I couldn’t help myself. You were so…” he tilted his head as though remembering, then finished, “curious to me.”
I eyed him shrewdly, uncomfortable with the thought that my memories could be so easily erased. “I don’t believe you.”
“I can prove it to you if you like. I can restore the memory.”
Again, I studied him, not liking this one bit. I didn’t enjoy him knowing something about us that I didn’t. “Have you erased any other memories of mine?” I asked, suspicious.
He held my gaze. “On my life I swear this was the only time. I wouldn’t have done it only I couldn’t risk you remembering me.”
I fell silent, worrying my lip, then said, “Okay, give me the memory back.”
Vas lifted a hand, flicked it in my direction, and just like that the memory flooded into my mind. I fell back, my hands gripping the edge of the window as I saw myself leaving my house one sunny afternoon. I walked down the path to the front gate and opened it, stepping onto the street and bumping into someone. That someone was Vas. I took him in and was immediately attracted. He apologised for bumping into me and we started to converse. He asked me for directions to the nearest coffee house and I told him I was going that way and we could walk together.
We reached the coffee house and Vas invited me to join him. I readily agreed. We sat at a table by the window and chatted. I couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe I’d met him before any of the stuff with Peter, before he ever decided to masquerade as Nic.
Drawing myself out of the memory I brought my attention back to the present.
“I liked you,” I said, my voice full of awe.
Vas’ gaze heated. “I liked you, too.”
“So why erase my memory? Why not just get to know me as yourself? We could’ve avoided so much trouble.”
A flicker of sadness passed over his features. “I ask myself that same question daily. Alas, I wasn’t ready to let go of my hate at the time.”
My mind raced. If I had continued to get to know Vas from the time we first met, would I have still gotten together with Peter? Would I have fallen in love with Vas instead? Perhaps if he’d truly allowed himself to know me he would’ve changed his mind about my parents and Rita sooner. He might have discarded his plan for vengeance and chosen to live a good life. For some reason, tears sprang forth.
“Darya,” he breathed, gently folding me into his arms.
“I can’t help thinking of how things might’ve been…”
“Don’t do that. Our journey is what it was always supposed to be,” he whispered and the past weeks flashed through my mind. Going to Oreylia had created something new in me. It had created a thirst for revolution that beat steadily like a drum. Vas was right. I was always supposed to go there. It was a part of the prophecy, a fundamental aspect of creating the person I would become.
