Chapter Seventeen
Farah
Every acolyte began to chant in a low tune, something Farah did not understand, but Chloe mouthed each word in time.
Had Markos shared more than Acacius had about what to expect below the mountain?
Had he taught her whatever spell these unknown people wove into the night’s air? Or was it a protection? A prayer?
“We must go,” Chloe declared, reaching out her hand, but Farah swatted it away.
“I am perfectly capable of walking across a stone pathway. It isn’t even that long.”
Farah shoved any inkling of fear down deep in her gut.
If Avra was correct, and the river was made in honor of the Lethe, it would cause them to forget their very being, every desire of their soul, if touched.
She would need to be quick across, the acolytes could be coming after them with knives and swords for all Farah knew.
She stepped first onto the path across and a deep pain seared through her temple. An image began to form in the water below, a vision so clear Farah could hardly believe what was happening.
Farah was eighteen, hidden behind the throne room at court.
Beside her stood a young woman about her age with the blondest of hair pinned back in braids in the most intricate of patterns.
Her eyes were a crushing amber that glittered next to the firelit hearth.
The woman inched closer, brushing back a piece of Farah’s hair, before allowing her finger to trace a path to Farah’s lips.
“Tell me you do not want this. That I am imagining things. That…”
The vision—memory—began to blur.
“What is happening?” Farah gasped.
That pain in her head turned to a monster, digging its claws into the first time she let herself be close to another.
It would not take that from her, not without a fight.
Farah pushed back, striking the pull of the river away.
She took another step, but with that step, the ground beneath her began to fragment.
“My aunt said the river would take things from us, willingly or not. It wants our memories,” Chloe shouted over the crumbling stone. “If you fight it, it will claim you itself.”
“I do. Gods, Celene I have wanted nothing more in my life, but my father will never allow it.”
“Your father does not need to find out.”
“My father always finds out.”
“Then be with me despite him. Do not let him dictate who you love.”
“And do you? Love me?” Farah asked, her eyes welling with tears.
“From the very first day.”
Farah leaned in, letting her lips press delicately to Celene’s.
And then there was nothing but an ache in Farah’s chest and a black hole where love had once been kept locked in her mind. The beginning of their story was missing.
Chloe laid her hand on Farah’s arm and electricity shot through her veins. “It is alright, you are alright. We will make it through this.”
Recoiling, Farah took another reluctant step, preparing herself for whatever hope or misery the river might take next.
Across the taverna, a woman danced, her hair free and wild.
She swayed with the music as if they were one and the same.
Every note matched every step she took, spinning around with fire and passion Chloe had never seen.
It was exquisite. She was exquisite. Every curve of her body as it moved, the unbridled smile that lit her features, the ease in which she tossed back her head in laughter.
Farah paused, looking back at Chloe with curiosity. She recognized that taverna, the music that was playing, the outfit the woman wore. It was many years ago in Xanthia, before she was a spy. Before her father took everything from her.
“You were there?” she asked between shallow breaths.
Chloe cocked her head to the side. “I was where?”
It was too late, the river had claimed its second memory.
“Nothing. Let’s just keep moving.”
The pathway began to narrow as they worked their way to the middle, the river only collecting small memories after the first ones, nothing of importance from their youth. But as they crossed the half way point a scream ripped through the cavern, one that Farah remembered all too well.
“Celene!” she screamed into the night, twisting left and right to see where it came from.
“Farah! Do not leave me! Your father lied!” Celene’s voice filled the air around Farah once more and when Farah turned back toward the start of the path, there she stood.
Not a vision in the water, but dressed in the robes of an acolyte, her hood down revealing that sparkling blonde hair and the eyes she had sunk into so many times before.
“Do not continue with her! You do not love her, you love me. Go through the trials with me. With her you will fail, but together we could conquer the Mysteries.”
“Ce-Celene? Is it really you?” The world around Farah spun.
“It is, my love. We can be together now.”
Farah began to run back toward the entrance of the river with a speed she had never known. So focused on Celene waiting for her at the end, she didn’t notice that the pathway had split until two hands grabbed her backward just before her feet met nothing but air and the river below.
“It is not real!” Chloe yelled, her chest heaving into Farah’s back with every heavy breath she took. “It is not real,” she repeated, this time soft as a whisper, with less ferocity. “It is only the river trying to claim you. It is not real.”
Tears welled in Farah’s eyes, pouring out without thought. Celene’s voice, her hair, her eyes, her smile. None of it was real. It hadn’t been in quite some time.
“It isn’t real,” Farah whispered back.
“I am so sorry.” Chloe held her for a moment and Farah felt some of the pain dissipate under her touch.
It would be so easy to break, to lean into the woman behind her and bare herself wholly. To scream out every piece of her soul for the river to claim so she no longer had to remember.
“We should keep going. It won’t be much longer. There’s only one last thing the river has to take from me.”
Releasing herself from Chloe’s arms, she headed toward the farthest end of the pathway across, allowing the mental thread between the river and her mind to flow with ease.
“Let me forget,” she begged the river. “Let me forget all of it.”
The hall was filled with members of the court, all dressed in Morentian black.
The men wore masks that extended out like crows while the women shielded their eyes with lace veils.
In the center of the room, hands and feet bound with thick rope, knelt the beautiful blonde.
Dirt swirled on her face, stained by the tears that poured from her eyes.
In the corner, Farah was held back by her father’s personal guard, but even he could not cover her mouth enough to muffle the screams.
“She didn’t do it, Father! You know she didn’t do it!”
Khalid approached the woman, his poison-laced blade held firm in his hand.
“Celene Devereux, you kneel before me being charged with theft from the royal house. After much deliberation in my court, we have found you guilty of this crime and you will be sentenced to death.”
“She has stolen nothing, Father!” Farah screamed once more. “Do not do this! I beg you! I will listen to you! I will do anything! Just please don’t kill her!
But Khalid Athanas paid no mind to his daughter’s pleas. Instead, he lifted his blade and drove it straight through the accused’s neck. When Celene’s head finally rolled from her body, the guard let Farah go.
She ran toward the pool of blood that spread around her lover’s body, collapsing into it with her weakened limbs.
“I am sorry. I am so very sorry,” she repeated over and over until the blood dried, and only then did Farah reach deep into the pit of her power, sparking a flame in her palm and letting Celene’s body burn.
When Farah opened her eyes, it was no longer amber ones that stared back lifelessly, but crystal blue pools that breathed hope back into her once more. Chloe stroked her cheek with her palm, wiping away the tears that fell for something Farah could no longer recall.
“I will remember her for the both of us. Her beauty will never be forgotten.”
Before she could thank Chloe, before she could say anything, a new memory flooded the river.
Bright light of the morning sun glittered off the stained-glass windows of the inn.
A small bed lay in the center of the room, woolen blankets and sheets rustled to the side from the night before.
A silver-haired woman lay face down in the bed, the sound of easeful snores whistling from her nose into the pillow.
In an open window, a blue jay sat, silently at first before it started to chirp like a lady’s maid ringing the morning bell.
“What is that noise?” the woman murmured, face still planted in the pillow. “I am not ready to get up just yet.”
There was no response.
The woman yawned and stretched out her arms before rubbing her eyes clean, adjusting to the morning’s light.
“What shall we do today? There’s this little bookstore in town I would love to bring you to. Or, perhaps we just stay in bed all day,” she chuckled and rolled over.
But beside Chloe the bed was empty. Cold.
She glanced around the room to see if the princess sat in the chair by the fire, or had gone to the bathing chamber, but both were empty.
So Chloe waited and hours ticked by, but Farah never returned. She had left for good.
No goodbye.
No note.
No nothing.
And the feeling of rejection scratched its way deep into her heart.
Farah’s eyes widened. She had waited there for her the entire day. It had never occurred to Farah that Chloe would assume she had left for any reason other than her duties as a spy to the Nexian court.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Farah asked, her heart racing.
Beside her, Chloe looked perplexed, but she did not seem vengeful or hurt, merely curious. “Tell you what?”
“Nevermind.” There were only a few steps left for them to take before crossing to the other shore. “Together?” Farah asked, reaching out her hand.
Chloe took it, and the softness of her skin put Farah at ease for the first time that night. “Together.”
It was now their burden—to keep the other’s memories. To live in the fear and pain and shame that the other no longer needed to bear.
But it was guilt that Farah felt the most. It ate its way through her veins and to her heart with every flash of one of Chloe’s memories.
They were all of her. And Farah had never known.