Chapter 5
Five
- LYRA -
All of us watch Aelia sweep off with Cyrus to another door where they disappear. But rather than jealousy, all I can think of is Devin’s introduction of me.
Lyra from Kilamber.
Another sliver of who I was—am—given back to me.
I press against the wall of ice surrounding my thoughts, hoping to find a weak spot that I might discover more. But it’s too solid.
It’s been well over an hour since Devin promised my memories would start to trickle in. But with his warning against overwhelming my memories, and instead letting them come of their own accord, I stop searching for more answers.
Perhaps pushing too hard will make them come even slower.
Lady Bethany escorts us all out of the throne room with soldiers flanking us. The woman with short brown hair I’m behind skips a few steps forward to walk beside another. “Aelia told me she wouldn’t shy away from bedding him. If she does, she’s already won before we’ve started.”
“Shh, Stella!” the other woman hisses and swats her. “Keep your voice down!”
Stella has the sense to lower her voice. Though, not enough that I don’t pick up on it. “Sorry! But doesn’t it concern you that we may already be at a disadvantage?”
“No, because the king would never bed a woman so casually on the first night. And I doubt he would be so willing to take on a wife who would give herself so easily.” The other woman nudges her back behind her in line as we turn a corner into a hallway.
Lady Bethany and the guards are holding open the double doors to the dining room. We slip inside, make our way down the stairs, and take our seats from earlier.
One of the doors on the opposite wall from which we came opens, and servers spill in with golden plates piled high with steaming food. My mouth waters as one server places a delicious serving of cooked fish, rice, and vegetables in front of me.
“Enjoy your dinner and drinks, girls. Afterward, you will be escorted back to your rooms for an early night of rest. In the morning, we will meet back here,” Lady Bethany announces as she takes her seat at the head of the table.
We all begin to dig into our meals, the room falling eerily quiet with only small scrapes and taps of metal forks hitting plates. I glance up at the chair across the table from me. Empty. Where Aelia had sat just earlier.
From my first impression, I rather liked her.
Especially compared to Marcella, who’s on my left.
Intense even in her silence. As I glance at her from the corner of my eye, watching her long fingers flirt with the rim of her wine glass, her tracing stops.
Her brown eyes flick to me like thrown daggers.
Rather than ducking to avoid the cut, I focus back on the plate in front of me.
Shoveling a bite into my mouth to keep myself looking occupied.
After a few minutes, once voices slowly begin to pick up around the table, I ask quietly to stir a conversation, “Do you think they’re eating the same thing?”
“No,” Marcella answers, so plainly. Quickly.
Have I done something to upset her? Or is she normally this…standoffish?
I take another bite, and after I swallow, toss out another attempt. “This food is…incredible. I’m not sure if I’ve ever eaten fish.” Foolish. What kind of conversation starter is that, Lyra?
“Well, you’re from Kilamber, right?” Marcella mutters warily. When I glance back at her, she lifts her wine to her lips and takes a sip before continuing in a monotonous tone, “The closest body of water to you is Vathstone.”
“Yes…Kilamber.” The word is a distant memory. Like staring out beyond the horizon and knowing something is there in the distance, yet still not being able to see it. “Where are you from?”
She pauses from twirling her wine, still not looking my way. “When I was presented, Millton. But I’m not certain that’s true.”
She takes another drink.
I toss glances around us, surveying how close the guards and servers are. Where Lady Bethany’s attention is. Ducking my head subtly, I whisper, “Don’t you find it a bit odd that our memories have been wiped? How could they even do such a thing?”
“Not sure.” She shrugs, still not looking my way.
Narrowing my eyes at her blatant disregard for the situation, I press on. “Is this not concerning to you? Are you…are you not scared?”
“Scared?” Her eyebrows shoot up her forehead, and she finally turns to look at me. “I’m not scared, nor do I get scared. Perplexed? Curious? A little angry that I’m stuck here for potentially months when my family needs me? Yes.”
“Devin said we—”
“Who?” Her eyebrows bunch up.
“Devin? The…main guard in golden amour?”
“Ahh…” She takes another drink. “I hadn’t caught his name quite yet.”
She hasn’t even touched her food. But almost three quarters of her wine is gone. Not that I’m judging—only hyper aware of the fact that at her pace I would already be dulled under the consumption.
I lean a little closer to her. “Okay…so…you remembered you have a family. But you don’t remember anything else? Not how you got here? Or your last name? Anything?”
If she already remembers she has a family, perhaps it means my memories returning are just around the corner, if I’ve been the last to wake.
She guzzles the rest of the wine with a satisfied hiss and slumps back into her chair, her arm holding the empty wine glass slung over the back. Lifting the glass, she directs her attention to a server expectantly.
The server scurries off and returns with a bottle of wine before pouring her another glass. Lifting a lazy grin at the server, she takes another hearty drink. When she sets it down, it’s half empty already.
Before I can stop myself, I stutter, “M-maybe you should…slow down a little?”
When she turns her brown eyes onto me, piercing and deadly, I freeze. Her eyes do not move from mine as she says, “Excuse you?”
Holding up my hands as I inch away, I blurt, “Sorry. I’m not trying to be rude or judgmental. I only wish to convey my concern for this…” I toss a quick glance at the guards, “…situation we find ourselves in. If we don’t know what wiped our memories, what’s to say it isn’t the wine?”
She leans forward until the scent of her soap washes over me. “I think you need to relax a little.” She pushes her wine glass into my hand, and I take it to keep the liquid from spilling out onto my light blue dress. “Take the edge off.”
“Marcella Briarstone,” Devin calls out from the top of the stair landing.
She retreats from my personal space and turns her head, her earrings glimmering in the light as she does so. “Yes?”
“Come with me,” Devin commands, motioning to the double doors leading out of the dining room.
She fixes me with one look. Taking a calculated slow time to leave before she sweeps off in his direction. A sigh of relief relaxes my shoulders as I place her wine glass on the table.
Briarstone…I’ve heard that name before.
One of scandal and blood. A name that would make children cower below their blankets.
The name made infamous by the Dragon Lands’ most wanted criminal.