Chapter Fifty-Four
Valerian felt thirteen again, though he couldn’t quite remember what thirteen felt like. There was a certain familiarity of sitting on a cot while a medic examined him. No, a healer, he corrected himself, since that was how Penn introduced her.
On the other side of the room, Penn paced restlessly, his eyes never leaving Valerian. The pacing wasn’t very productive, since the cottage’s workroom was so small that he could barely take five steps before turning around, but hopefully it released some of his pent-up energy.
“Do you remember who I am?” the healer asked.
Valerian returned his attention to her and looked her up and down. Auburn hair, delicate frame, lines around her eyes and mouth from a lifetime of joys and sorrows. He searched through the burned edges of his memories until one word came to mind. “Witch.”
The corner of her eyes crinkled. “That’s right. My name is Adelaide Orestes, but some people call me the Witch. Do you remember meeting me before?”
“Do you have to talk to him like that?” Penn demanded.
Adelaide glanced at him curiously.
“Like he’s a child,” Penn said. “He’s not. He’s just …” Penn cut his gaze back to Valerian and didn’t finish his sentence.
“Confused,” Val supplied. “And a little foggy.”
Adelaide grabbed his face and tilted it up so she could gaze deeply into his eyes. “I think it’s more appropriate to call that fog ‘smoke.’ What’s the last thing you remember before waking?”
Images shimmered in Val’s mind, faded and singed around the edges.
Towering trees with mirror bark that never showed his own reflection.
Spiderwebs enveloping the canopy. A white tree blazing too brightly in the darkness.
“I was in a forest … there were spiders and a white tree that didn’t belong.
” Trying to concentrate on the images felt like pressing his finger into a healing burn. “And there was a fire …”
Adelaide sighed. “I thought so. That forest was a magical manifestation of your mind and your memories. Unfortunately, another mage had invaded it. From what I can guess, you chose to burn the forest down to kill him, which was a very brave decision.”
Valerian grinned at her.
“It was also very stupid.”
The grin slipped slightly. He wracked his brain for a moment, then said, “You’ve called me stupid before.”
The declaration startled her, but she smiled again. “I called you stupid quite often before I learned some better bedside manner.”
“And I’m sure I deserved it every time.”
Penn stopped pacing and approached Valerian, reaching out as if to touch him, before dropping his hand back to his side. “So what does that mean for Val? His memories, are they all … gone?”
“Not all of them,” Adelaide said. “Though with Valerian, it will be difficult to tell what is gone and what isn’t, because he kept so many secrets close to his chest.”
Valerian stared down at his scarred hands. “I wish I’d paid your price.”
“What?” Penn asked, looking confusedly between the healer and her patient.
“Tell me the story behind each scar and I’ll clear the slate,” Valerian quoted, all he remembered of the long ago deal she’d offered him. “If I’d told her those stories, she could share them with me now, so maybe I could remember.”
“For now, it’s enough to know that you remember what I said,” Adelaide replied. “I’m going to treat your hand and examine your other wound. Unfortunately, there’s not much I can do for your mind until the fire dies down.”
“What do you mean dies down?” Penn demanded. “It’s still burning? Does that mean he’ll lose more memories? That he’ll”—his breath hitched but this time he forced the word out—“forget?”
“I don’t know yet. Mental magic has never been my specialty.”
“Too bad I don’t still have that grimoire,” Valerian said. He could picture the book exactly—blue leather, tightly scrawled notes across every page, the words mundane until they were examined through special spectacles—though he couldn’t remember who it belonged to.
“Grimoire,” Penn said, his eyes lighting up. “I’ll be right back.” And he ran out of the room.
Valerian cocked his head as he watched Penn run off, then turned his attention back to Adelaide. “Anything you’d like to tell me while he’s gone?”
She arched an eyebrow. “Aside from berating you again for bringing this upon yourself? If there’s one thing you remember in the future, I hope it’s not to mess around with other mage’s grimoires.”
Valerian grimaced. “I thought I was helping. Or I think I thought I was helping.”
She sighed. “That’s my point exactly. I will tell you this: you cannot rely on Penn for everything. He’s overflowing with guilt because he feels like he didn’t save you, and I think he would willingly give up his own life, his freedom, to piece you back together.”
Images flitted through Valerian’s mind one after another: Penn on his knees, eyes hooded as he took Valerian into his mouth; sitting patiently at an inn’s table as Valerian inked a spell into his skin; smacking him in the chest, raging at him for pretending to betray them.
Tears falling from his eyes, splashing onto Valerian’s face, as he promised not to leave.
A muscle ticked in Valerian’s jaw and he raised his chin, glaring at Adelaide with determination. “I’m not giving him up, if that’s what you mean.”
“Would you rather be a burden to him?”
Valerian considered her question for a long time.
This time, the images weren’t memories, only his own worries: Penn’s mischief turning to exasperation, then anger, then hate, and finally apathy as Valerian’s condition drained every ounce of love from him.
I should let him go. Let him live a life where he doesn’t have to drag around an addled husk of a man who can barely remember his own name.
But the idea of leaving him hurt worse than the lingering flames in Val’s mind.
“He’s the one clear thing in my head. Something I held onto until the very end.
I may not remember much about myself right now, but I know I’m too selfish to leave him ‘for his own good.’”
“Good,” Penn said as he strode back into the room, balancing a stack of books. “Because I’d knock you out, tie you to my horse, and drag you around with me anyway.” He dropped the books next to Valerian. “I haven’t read any of these yet, but they’re yours. From your shop in Swallow’s Nest.”
“I had a shop?” Valerian asked, arching his brows in surprise.
“Never pictured myself as a shopkeeper—sounds boring.” But even as he spoke, his first memory of Penn flashed through his mind again: Penn coming into his shop one day, wearing a mischievous smile and proposing ‘favors’ in exchange for Val’s services.
Valerian had only paid attention to Penn before, but now that he focused on the image, more details became clear: the walls lined with his products, the open sign on the window.
“Oh, that’s right, we met at that shop. Maybe it was worth it being a shopkeeper after all. ”
Penn’s breath hitched. “You remember that.”
Valerian looked up from his journals, a slow smile curving over his lips. “You know, it’s still a little foggy. Perhaps you could give me a demonstration to refresh the memory?”
He heard the quiet footsteps departing as Adelaide left the room.
Penn stepped closer to Valerian and wrapped his arms around Val’s shoulders. “Is that how this is going to play out? You use your damaged mind to flirt with me?”
Val settled his hands on Penn’s hips and pulled him closer, until there was no space between them. “Is it working?”
Penn’s lips curved in a seductive smile. “It might be. There’s a lot of things I could refresh your memory on.” He leaned forward and whispered in Val’s ear, “Like fucking you until your legs go weak.”
“Actually, I think I remember that,” Valerian said, “In some lord’s fancy bathtub, right?”
Penn’s lips pursed in disappointment.
Laughing, Valerian leaned up to kiss the pout away, “I’d also be very happy making a whole lifetime’s worth of new memories with you, Penn Kaurier.”