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Little children in ripped clothing, running through abandoned buildings, each of them carrying a dagger on their hips.
I saw myself as a teenager, casting a spell on a peaceful crowd, gathered to watch a king’s speech, but it wasn’t Zen I was looking at. It was another king.
Another burst of white smoke cleared the view for chaos as figures in dark cloaks descended on Silverhold Tower, me among them.
I gasped and clawed the smoke away from my face, each one of my memories flooding back to me fresher and crisper than the last.
“Enough! Enough! Stop!” I cried, fanning the blackness from my view, but Agnan only laughed with cruel cheer.
“Do you remember now, Mousie?”
“DON’T CALL ME THAT!” I spat, whirling around to confront him, my eyes flashing furiously.
He whooped with pleasure through the thick of granite fog and clapped his hands. “Youdoremember!” he chortled. “Oh, how you hate being called Mousie.”
“Fuck you, Agnan,” I hissed, waving my hands more wildly now.
“Have you learned your lesson yet?” he cooed, drawing closer. “Or do you need some more time? Should I leave you to lie in the bed you’ve made for yourself?”
I backed off, hissing, but my heart beat so wildly inside me, I thought it was going to come out of my throat.
The bed I’ve made for myself. He means marrying Zen. Shit. What have I done?
The smoke began to clear around me, and I struggled to breathe as anxiety flooded my soul—whatever soul I had left.
More turmoil spiraled through me, and I struggled to cling to an anchor, something to ground me to reality, but the memories piled onto me in such a torrent, it was impossible to keep up with what was happening.
I had been wrong about myself, and Zen had been wrong about me, too. I was bad. I was evil. I was a danger to him and the kingdom and had been all along.
But he didn’t know that—he couldn’t. He would never have let me in if he had.
And if he ever found out, he would certainly kill me. I couldn’t blame him.
“Come along unless you want to continue sharing a bed with that disgusting cretin. I’d have you kill him in his sleep, but he’s too heavily guarded, and you’re too useful to be disposable. You might still come in handy if he doesn’t know who you are, and he can’t if he’s willing to put a ring on your finger. They really do get dumber and dumber as the years pass, don’t they?”
Agnan turned to leave the gardens as I gaped after him, unsure of what to do. My instincts told me to run back to the castle and tell Zen everything, but how would he ever look at me with love again if he knew the truth about me?
I wasn’t Mirielle, the amnesiac babe in the woods.
I was Grendel, Agnan’s muse and a member of the Order. I’d done unspeakable things against the kingdom, unforgiveable acts that Zen would never understand if I tried to explain them.
“Are you coming, Grendel?” Agnan barked. “Hurry up before those idiot guards wake up, and I’m forced to leave a corpse behind.”
It wasn’t too late. I could still go to Zen. He might protect me given the circumstances, like he always had, and take care of Agnan forever.
But he would never forgive me. I couldn’t even forgive myself for what I’d done. How could I ever expect Zen to forgive me?
No, after all that Zen had endured, the more likely outcome was that he would lock me away until he determined what to do with me.
“Mousie!”
Blinking back the tears burning in my eyes, I spun around and rushed toward Agnan, despair washing over me in a tsunami.
I had never deserved this life in the first place.
I had to leave if I wanted to protect myself—and Zen.
* * *
