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“But it’s not triggering anything, huh?”
I closed my lips and studied him, trying to understand what all this was about. I shook my head.
“Endora tells me that her memory purges are also failing. She’s using her best spells, but nothing seems to be working.”
I gnawed on the insides of my cheeks and shook my head.
“I’ve gone to every session,” I told him hastily. “Every time she’s asked. I do exactly what’s required—”
He held up a hand, and I stopped, my tummy flipping nervously. I didn’t want him to think I wasn’t trying.
“I know. Endora’s reports have expressed all that.”
His tone was perfectly amiable, but I couldn’t help but feel under scrutiny, like he felt that I was hiding something from him. I wished I could alleviate his concerns, but there seemed like there was nothing to say.
“This probably isn’t easy for you, either, and I suspect that the harder we push, the more your memory will regress. This is going to have to come back organically.”
He said “we.”
I wanted to kick myself smart again.
Who cares how he’s phrasing it? He’s not going to hold your hand through this, dumb-dumb. He wants to make sure you’re not some kind of threat to him.
“I hope you’re right,” I murmured, only half truthfully.
I’d spent many hours considering how or why my memory had failed me. Was it by design, or had my psyche shut down to protect me from something horrific? Either way, getting answers didn’t necessarily sound like a happy time.
He shrugged and picked up his fork and knife. “Then we’ll have to try something else.”
Again with the “we.”
Again with you acting like a complete moron.
He nodded at me with his chin. “Eat up. You have to get to work soon, don’t you?”
Gulping back my nervousness and ignoring the kaleidoscope of butterflies in my gut, I picked up a fork and finally looked at the incredible spread on my plate for the first time. Eggs, sausage, and hash browns piled high to cover the design of the plate, a side of buttered toast to my left. There was no way I could eat all that, but I had to take a few bites to placate the king’s watchful stare.
“I’m having a gala event tomorrow evening,” he announced. “It’s an annual event, and frankly, I would love to skip it, but the local debutantes depend on us for it. It’s important to keep things functioning as always, regardless of whatever tragedies we’ve had in the past.”
I cocked my head curiously. What tragedies? What happened here before I came?
“Traditions are important,” I agreed slowly.
He cast me a sidelong look. “Maybe you’ve been to one of these galas over the years.”
Helplessly, I could only shrug again. “Maybe.”
“It introduces the eligible young singles of society to one another. You’ll come.”
Just like the note he had left for me, this was not a request.
The butterflies were in my throat now, and I gawked at him, the fork falling out of my hand and onto the plate with a clatter. I picked it up and cleared my throat.
“As your date?” I whispered, barely believing my good fortune, but the moment was as short-lived as my delusion.
His head jerked up, and he whipped his chin back brashly. “No! No, of course not.” He shook his head. “You’ll come as a guest. It will be good for others to see you. Perhaps someone will recognize you, and we can get to the bottom of who you are and what you were doing here that day…”
He trailed off and avoided my eyes, which was for the best as my cheeks were the same shade as the newly rising sun on the eastern horizon behind his head. The new light sent a brilliant, crimson halo over his jet-black crown of hair, and he looked more god than king in that moment.
