Chapter 22
Waking up felt like being dragged backwards through a bramble bush. It wasn’t the pleasant floaty feeling of ascending through the soft blackness into the gentle morning light. It was shocking, uncomfortable, and painful. I was wrenched from sleep, pulled unwillingly, and thrust into the glaring light with no apology.
My head pounded, and every inch of my body felt the attack. Had I been attacked? Was this why I felt so abominable?
‘Snow,’ a familiar voice said urgently. ‘Snow, can you hear me?’
Snow. Not the winter wonder that fell from the sky but my name. My name. My name was Snow. Why did that feel like a revelation to me? Why did it feel like I hadn’t known that fact before?
I blinked my lashes open to see a circle of concerned faces looking down at me. I took in each one, taking my time to map their features. They were familiar and yet…
‘Snow,’ the voice said again, and I looked at the speaker. It was a young man who I instinctively knew I should know, but the connections were slow in coming.
‘Snow,’ I repeated, my voice stiff and scratchy, as if I hadn’t used it for a long time…or ever. Had I never spoken before?
The man’s eyes softened, but his face remained taught and worried. He reached up to smooth my hair from my forehead, and I closed my eyes in bliss. It felt good. His touch. His hand on my hair, his fingers combing through the strands.
I sighed.
‘Snow, do you remember what happened?’ the man asked, and I blinked my eyes open again reluctantly. The pull of sleep was strong.
‘I don’t remember anything,’ I said, realising it was true. ‘Who are you?’
His brows drew together in alarm, and he looked at the others gathered around the bed.
‘You remember me, right?’ a blonde woman said with confidence. She tossed her long braid over her shoulder revealing the shaved side of her head and the tattoo on her scalp. It looked familiar…she looked familiar—they all did—but I didn’t know how or why I knew them.
‘No,’ I said, looking back to the man. ‘I know I should know you but…’
The man sighed and brushed his hand across my hair once more. Why did that feel so good? I kept my eyes open this time…just.
‘It’s okay, Snow. Don’t force it. I’m Parisar. We’re friends.’
‘Friends?’ I asked. The word felt wrong, or at least not quite right. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe him, more that the word ‘friend’ didn’t fully encapsulate everything that was between us.
‘We’re all your friends,’ a large brusque man stated.
‘What happened to me?’ I asked, more to myself than to anyone else. ‘Why don’t I remember anything?’
The collected group looked at one another and then at Parisar. He must be the leader of the group. They expected him to explain the situation.
‘You were…poisoned?’
He said it in such a way as to suggest he didn’t really know if poison was the correct word.
I nodded, although it set off a pounding in my head that made me wince.
Parisar frowned. ‘Are you okay? Where does it hurt?’
‘My head,’ I said. ‘Everywhere,’ I amended, and then closed my eyes and sank back into the pillow.
‘Drink this,’ he said, pressing something against my lips.
I didn’t bother opening my eyes. I allowed him to tip the cup and dribble some water into my mouth. It tasted good, and I realised just how thirsty I was. I reached for the cup, gulping more down before he snatched it away.
‘Slow down,’ he said. ‘You don’t want to make yourself sick.’
I opened my eyes and looked around. The room—what I could see of it between the gathered bodies—was at once familiar and strange. It wasn’t home but it felt like…home, or at least a home away from home, whatever that meant. I was comfortable here, I knew that. And even if it wasn’t my actual home, it was near enough.
‘Who poisoned me?’ I asked, looking at the assembled group who all turned their eyes to Parisar. ‘You?’
He grimaced and shook his head. ‘No. Of course not.’ I believed him, but there was a niggle of something inside me, not quite distrust, but something approaching it. ‘We found this in your hair.’ He held up a comb. Instinctively, my hand stretched for it, but Parisar moved it out of my reach.
My fingers strained for it, curling painfully when they couldn’t grasp it. I wanted that comb. Wanted it so badly that if I hadn’t been in so much pain and my head hadn’t felt like it was going to explode, I would have fought Parisar for it. I fell back to the bed with a groan and wrapped my arms around me.
‘Poison or magic?’ the dark-skinned woman asked.
‘Magic,’ another woman said. This one had bright red hair and wore a wolf pelt over her shoulders. I didn’t know how I knew it was a wolf, but I did.
‘A combination of both,’ Parisar said.
‘But there is no magic,’ one of the men said. ‘It died out long ago.’
‘Not entirely,’ Parisar said. ‘Or so it seems.’
‘But who…?’ the blonde woman asked, her voice trailing off.
‘I think the real question is, how,’ Parisar said. ‘How did they know where she would be and when?’
‘It could have just been a random attack,’ the brusque man said.
‘For what purpose?’ Parisar asked.
‘Maybe the plan was to follow her and rob her when she collapsed,’ the other man said.
‘So you think this was an act of opportunity?’ Parisar asked.
‘Either that, or we have a spy in our midst,’ the blonde said with a snarl.
The second time I woke, it was nowhere near as violent. My head was still sore, but it was a mild headache rather than a raging, throbbing ache that made my head feel like it would crack open. My body was also less painful, and I could even sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed without whimpering or wanting to vomit.
‘How’re you feeling?’
I looked up and smiled at Sim. The smile froze on my face. ‘I know your name,’ I blurted.
Sim smiled back at me and sat down on the edge of the bed next to me. ‘I figured it would only be a temporary thing,’ she said.
I sighed with relief. ‘It was the weirdest feeling,’ I said. ‘Like, I knew everything, but I couldn’t quite name it…it was right there, on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t make the connections.’ I shook my head slowly, careful not to disturb my brain too much in case it retaliated by firing up the headache again.
‘It was a nasty piece of work,’ Sim said sadly. ‘You’re very lucky Parisar found you when he did.’
‘Found me?’
‘You were wandering in the woods.’
‘I was what?’
‘He thought you were sleepwalking at first, which is concerning enough, in and of itself. But then when we couldn’t wake you, he realised it was more. He was the one who found the comb in your hair.’
‘The comb,’ I repeated. Even now the events surrounding the comb felt fuzzy. I may have regained my memories of everything else, but anything connected to the comb was a hazy and indistinct mess.
‘Any idea how you got it?’ Sim asked.
I shook my head. ‘The only thing I remember is wanting it. Wanting it so badly that I couldn’t stop touching it.’
Sim nodded. ‘That would be the magic part. The poison was on the comb itself. When you touched it or put it in your hair, the poison entered your body. That’s what made you sleep.’
‘Like my father,’ I said.
Sim raised her brows. ‘Your father?’
I looked at her. ‘I thought everyone here knew about it,’ I said. ‘My father is…sleeping. He choked on something at a picnic and then fell unconscious and hasn’t woken up yet.’
Sim frowned. ‘We only knew he was sick.’
I bit my lip. ‘Should I not have said anything?’
Sim closed her eyes and took a breath as she contemplated the question. ‘Maybe don’t tell anyone else,’ she replied when she opened her eyes.
I nodded slowly.
Sim stood. ‘Come on. Dinner is ready, and you are probably starving.’
My stomach growled in response, and I followed her out of the room. Everyone stopped to stare at me and I could feel my cheeks warm.
‘She’s awake again,’ Sim announced. ‘And she has her memory back.’
‘Mostly,’ I added.
I kept my chin up and my shoulders back as I crossed the room to take my seat at the table. Everyone watched me, making me uncomfortable, but I refused to show it.
‘So can you tell us what happened?’ Breust asked, lifting a chicken leg to his mouth and taking a bite.
‘That’s the part I don’t quite remember,’ I replied, spooning some soup into my bowl from the big pot in the centre. Weylei had obviously cooked. I breathed in the scent with a contented sigh. I loved his cooking so much.
‘Of course you don’t,’ Breust snarled under his breath.
‘That would be because of the magic,’ Parisar said, his eyes watching me closely. ‘Whoever set it up obviously didn’t want you remembering how you got the comb in case something went wrong with the plan.’
‘She had to have gotten it from the market,’ Tain said, her mouth full of food. ‘That was the only time she was alone.’
‘That doesn’t really narrow it down,’ Breust said. ‘There were hundreds of stall holders—’
‘I wouldn’t say hundreds,’ I said, tilting my head to the side to try and remember. ‘The market was busy, and I remember buying some meat on a stick and some taffy balls.’ I looked at Tain. ‘Did you eat my taffy balls?’
She widened her eyes in innocence, but I didn’t believe her. I narrowed mine in response.
‘You could have shared them with me,’ she said with a sniff.
‘How could I? You were in such a rush to get back here that we barely stopped. Not to mention you didn’t speak to me at all the whole way home.’
‘Oh, you remember that, but not the most important bit, like who sold you the comb?’
‘How do you know someone sold it to her?’ Parisar asked.
‘I gave her some money. The meat stick and the taffy balls wouldn’t have cost that much, but the coin she had left suggested she bought something else.’
‘You went through my pockets?’ I asked, offended.
‘We thought you were going to die,’ Tain retorted. ‘I was looking for clues.’
‘And you ate my taffy? What if it had been poisoned too?’
Tain shrugged. ‘I took a gamble.’ She smirked. ‘It was so worth it, too. That taffy was the best.’
I threw a piece of hard crust at her, but she ducked out of the way and her smirk widened.
‘You owe me,’ I snapped.
‘I think you owe Parisar more,’ she replied. ‘He was the one who saved you.’
I looked at Parisar. ‘How did you know it was the comb?’
He stared at me for a long moment before answering. ‘It was the only thing different. It was a guess.’
We stared at each other across the table for a long moment, and I didn’t know what to think. Did he pay that much attention to me that he would know a comb in my hair was the only different thing about me? It shouldn’t make me feel good but…
‘So the question remains,’ Zeyr said, breaking the moment. ‘Who did it, and why? Was it a targeted attack, or was it a random crime of opportunity?’
And just like that we were back to wondering if there was a spy amongst us. I looked at each person in turn. If I had to guess, I would say no, none of these people would betray the others but…but if there was a spy amongst us, I put my money on Tain. She was the only one who knew where I’d be and when. She was also the one who was with me the longest, obviously waiting for me to fall asleep so she could…kidnap me? Kill me? But I didn’t use the comb until we got back, and then Parisar found me, and her plans were thwarted.
I looked at Tain. She looked back at me, one eyebrow raised in challenge. I really did not want her to be the bad guy, but I would not trust her going forward. She had always hated me, and yet she had made a concerted effort to get close to me, even volunteering to take me with her. She had opportunity and motive.
I looked away and down at my food, my hunger dissipating. Could Tain really be the traitor?