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Her voice trailed off and Hector put his hand on her shoulder. ‘Do you want to leave it for now?’ he suggested. ‘Maybe we should do this when you’ve had the chance to recover.’
To my relief she shook her head. ‘No. You know how quickly these memories fade. It’s like waking from a dream. I need to tell you while it’s still fresh in my mind.’
She swallowed. ‘I walked with him through those months at Castle Clair. I watched him slowly recovering his memories from 1669. I saw him arrive in our time, and beyond that, I saw him leaving his own. The argument with Jennet, the fall from the castle wall. Then—then beyond that. Through his relationship with Bevil and Jennet.’
For the first time she smiled. ‘Oh, he really loved Bevil. What a wonderful time they had together. His father was so proud of them. Of both of them.’ Her smile dimmed. ‘They moved to Cornwall to be safer from Cromwell’s army. I watched him cry when they told him his mother had passed away.’
I turned to look at John, sleeping so peacefully. It hardly seemed real. This was the life he’d known? This was who he really was?
‘I saw his mother. She was lovely. So kind to him. I saw Mother Clipson giving him a cuff round the ear for being cheeky. I felt the dread in the family’s hearts when Rafe was away fighting. I saw Titus.’ She looked at Hector, her eyes twinkling suddenly. ‘He looked so much like Castor, you know. It was quite a shock to see him there. I thought for one minute… He and Rafe were very close. And Titus obviously adored Blaise. I saw Blaise sitting on Titus’s knee. His uncle was telling him a story of some sort. I couldn’t really hear what he was saying.’
She frowned. ‘And then suddenly I was there, in the ruins of Glastonbury Abbey. Fog was swirling around me again. I knew I was completely alone. No one was with me this time. The air felt thick, like the fog was suffocating me. It was weird—like it was a memory but not a real memory, you know? Like it had been planted there. Or I was seeing it second hand. I can’t explain it. All I know is I didn’t know what I was doing there and had no idea how I was going to get out, and then you were there, Hector. I felt your presence before I saw you, and then you took my hand and—well, here I am. Thank you.’
‘You’re very welcome,’ he said, smiling.
She smiled back and took another sandwich. ‘I’m so hungry,’ she complained. ‘Is everyone back from the chapel yet?’
I shrugged listlessly.
‘Romy?’ Celeste’s voice was all concern. ‘I’m so sorry. I can only imagine how you must be feeling.’
‘It’s all true, isn’t it?’ I said dully. ‘I mean, somewhere at the back of my mind I knew it was, but hearing it from you like this… He really is Blaise St Clair.’ I lifted my head to meet Hector’s compassionate gaze. ‘We’re never going back to Bartonbrook are we?’
It was weird, but even as I asked the question I somehow knew the answer. John and I would never see our pretty cottage again. That life was over.
‘He wasn’t lying,’ Celeste said, clearly trying to console me. ‘He really didn’t remember. That bank of fog—it separated John Ford from Blaise St Clair. I had to really focus to cross from one block of memories to the other.’
‘How do I ever make him believe it?’ I asked sadly.
There was that look again. That strange look between them that signified something.
‘What is it?’ I demanded, suddenly scared. ‘What aren’t you telling me?’
‘Go on, Celeste,’ Hector said kindly. ‘You’d better explain.’
She reached for my hand and held it tightly. ‘I’m so sorry, Romy, but when I walked through the fog I realised I wasn’t alone. As I reached that memory of Castle Lodge—the night Blaise tried to kill Hector…’
‘Go on,’ I said, my pulse racing in dread. ‘What happened?’
‘I turned around,’ she said sadly. ‘I was right. I wasn’t alone. Emerging from the fog was John Ford. He’d followed me, Romy. He’d followed me into the earlier memories, and he saw Blaise for himself. Relived those memories with me. I think when he wakes up, he’ll know exactly who he really is.’
Chapter 23
Romy
I sat with John for hours while he slept. Celeste and Hector left me to go downstairs, promising to say nothing of what had happened to anyone but Emrick. I thought vaguely how odd it was that we all seemed to defer to Emrick, when we knew so little about him. I supposed it was because he’d been so close to Meri, and here on the island she never felt far away from us.
Strange how she crowded my thoughts now. I’d liked her from the moment I saw her, even though I had every reason not to trust her. She had, after all, been the person who’d invited us to this island and the instigator of everything that had happened to us since. If she hadn’t sent those invitations our lives might never have been turned upside down the way they had.
Yet, even knowing that, I didn’t regret meeting her. She’d been very kind to me—a wren in a world of witches. And she’d left me her fede ring in her will. I’d not dared wear it yet, too afraid of losing it. It was an antique ring, with two hands clasped together, and a Latin inscription which meant, “From love and truth comes peace”.
I gazed at John’s sleeping form. Now I knew the truth about who he was—and in all probability so did he. Would he still love me, now he had those memories of Blaise St Clair? Would I still love him—this strange man who’d done so much harm to so many people, and whose reckless and selfish actions had brought the magical world to the brink of war?
And I knew the truth about me, too. Not Romy St Clair but Wren Pendragon. Named after Meri’s ancestor, no less. Half witch, half fae. Daughter of a descendant of Arthur and one of the Nine Sisters of Avalon. Sister of a future Great Guardian.
So now we both knew more about our true selves. Would knowing that truth bring us peace?
It was growing dark. The hum of conversation downstairs had dulled, and I suspected most, if not all, of our guests had left. I realised I was hungry and helped myself to the last of the sandwiches and snacks on the plate. The bread was drying and starting to curl at the edges, but I didn’t care. I barely tasted any of it anyway.
