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She handed him the shirt that the helper had cleaned and mended. “I’m afraid this was the best that could be done with this. I’ll try to find you some other clothes later.”
She helped him put the shirt on, then helped him get to his feet and found that he wasn’t much taller than she was. He leaned on her as they walked across the hall to the kitchen, where she guided him to one of the chairs. “This seems fancy,” he remarked.
It was, even fancier than usual. A vase of cut flowers—using flowers Elwyn had brought in to liven up the tea shop—had been added to the table along with the candles and tablecloth. “I like to make every meal a celebration,” she said. “Even if it is simple fare. Now, enjoy.”
They ate in silence for a few minutes. He didn’t eat like someone who’d been starving, so she suspected he’d eaten the day before. She couldn’t help but think of the last time she’d shared a meal with a man, the night her life had fallen apart. She’d stopped by Maxen’s quarters to report on the status of the wounded knight, and he’d invited her to join him for dinner. That was their custom, a little charade they’d played to hide the nature of their relationship from the court. No one would have thought twice about the widowed duke having a lover, but tongues would have wagged about the healer having ensnared the duke with her wiles. It had been entirely the other way around, as she hadn’t even considered that kind of relationship with him until she’d read his desire. They’d still been eating when the baron had burst in, reporting the knight’s death. She’d waited for Maxen to defend her, but instead he’d looked at her with doubt and suspicion in his eyes.
The injured man broke her out of her reverie by saying, “It’s awkward knowing your name but not mine.”
“This is your chance to be anyone you want to be. What do you want to be called?”
He frowned in thought. “What about Bryn? That’s a nice, solid name. And it rhymes with Wyn, so you should be able to remember it.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Bryn. You must remember something if you know names.”
“I remember how to talk and eat, obviously. I suspect I’d remember how to read. It just seems that anything that might tell me who I am is a complete blank. What can you tell me about me? Surely you noticed some clues.”
“You were wearing armor and had a sword on your belt.”
“So I must be a knight.”
“Possibly.” She decided to stick to facts and not share her speculations. It was best if whatever memories that came back to him were untainted by suggestions. That way, they could be more certain that what he remembered about himself was true.
She noticed that his bowl was empty and got up to refill it. She was so accustomed to the helper doing that for her that it was unusual to see an empty bowl. She spilled some soup as it sloshed from the ladle. Clearly, she needed more practice at this. She topped off her own bowl before resuming her seat.
He grinned. “I like the idea of being a knight. Did I look dashing in the armor?”
“I was too worried about the bleeding, unconscious man I found in my garden to consider how dashing you looked in the armor.” She did think that he looked rather attractive now that he was awake. He had a glint of humor in his eyes and a disarming smile.
“I wonder what else I know,” he said. “I can identify the vegetables in this soup. It’s seasoned with thyme, isn’t it?”
Elwyn had brought in thyme, so she assumed the helper had used it. She took a quick taste to be certain before saying, “You got that correct.” With a smile of her own, she said, “Perhaps you’re a cook.”
“There’s no shame in that. Maybe I should make lunch tomorrow so we can find out. That shouldn’t be too strenuous.”
“As long as you stir with your left hand.”
He waved first his left hand, then his right, wincing at the motion of the right hand. “Am I right-handed or left-handed?”
“The way you wore the sword, it looked like you’re right-handed, but I’ve known left-handed men who fought right-handed.”
“The better test, then, would be to give me pen and paper and see which hand I use. Assuming I know how to write.”
“After dinner, I’ll get you a book and pen and paper, and we’ll test your literacy.”
“I hope I’m literate. Surely the fact that this matters to me means I am.”
They finished their soup, and Elwyn wondered where dessert was, then remembered that the helper wasn’t showing itself. She had to get up and get the cakes left over from the tea shop. She’d so quickly become spoiled by having someone to do everything for her. She found where the cakes had been wrapped in a tea towel on the sideboard and brought them to the table. “I hope these aren’t too stale,” she said as she served him. “The baker sometimes brings her unsold items over, and these are a couple of days old.”
“Seems fine to me,” he said after taking a bite.
She set a pot of mint tea to brew before she ate her own cake. Lucina’s baked goods did stay fresher longer than she would have expected, now that she thought about it.
When she poured the tea, he took a long, deep sniff of his. “I think I remember liking mint,” he said. “At least, I like this smell, and I know it’s mint.” After a sip, he said, “It’s so strange not knowing anything about myself.”
“Your memory likely will come back to you in time. Sometimes, when someone’s been through a frightening experience, the mind just shuts down. It may be trying to protect you by keeping you from reliving what happened when you were injured.”
“But why does it also have to blot out everything else?”
