10. Chapter 10
It was one of those hot summer days where the blaring buzz of cicadas filled the air and heat hung low and heavy.
Sweat rolled down Yareli’s back as she weeded her garden, but she didn’t mind.
Since her rescue two months ago, she had come to welcome the sun’s gentle light waking her in the morning, enjoying the cool mornings and hot afternoons.
She led a simple routine that consisted of several quiet activities: reading, gardening, and cleaning.
Her only strenuous endeavor was combat training.
Although it had been Yareli’s idea, she was reluctant at first, hesitant to pick up a weapon when she had experienced her powerlessness against magic.
After all, what could a non-magical blade do against someone who could snap their fingers and break her bones? Bri had taken offense at this thought.
“Yareli,” Bri had said, her tone sharp. “Your weakness will be your strength.”
When she didn’t respond, Bri marched to her, putting the dagger in her hand. “Let them underestimate you. Make it their undoing.” Bri had closed Yareli’s fingers over the blade’s hilt, adding in a softer voice, “Don’t let Tuom win.”
Yareli had turned the dagger in her hand, feeling not its weight, but the weight of wielding a weapon.
She had thought of the bright white room, painted red with her blood.
Even now, it sickened her, haunting her nightmares.
An ember had stirred in her, awakening emotions that she had discarded during her imprisonment.
The urge to drive her blade through Tuom’s heart raged through her, fueling her desire to fight.
She had been an eager student after that.
Now, Yareli was passable with daggers, able to handle them without injuring herself.
She preferred the bow, having picked it up quicker, but she kept practicing with daggers.
When she killed Tuom, she wanted it to be with a blade; it was, after all, his favorite tool.
She pulled a stubborn weed out and dropped it into her bucket.
She had thought a lot about it—taking a life, that is.
Tuom was like the weeds she was pulling out.
Harmful and unwanted. He spread hurt wherever he went, spewing his bigotry like he held authority on the matter.
He had power, but what good was power if he was dead?
It was that thought that prevented her from giving up.
Tuom’s death was a fact; there was no reality in which both Yareli and Tuom could live.
His hatred was seared in the depths of her soul, festering until either she died at his hands or he at hers.
This was a truth that settled in her bones, like silt at the bottom of a lake.
The back door closed, catching her unaware. She flinched and gripped her gardening shears.
Leo greeted her. “It’s only me until dinner. Bri is leading the squadron’s training.”
Yareli was unsurprised. Bri’s military prowess was widely acknowledged, and she often led boot camps.
She enjoyed teaching and had shared with Yareli that she hoped to be an instructor in the future.
She was fair in her judgment but had high standards.
Yareli had experienced it firsthand during her training with her, and it had made her a better fighter for it.
Bri would be a great teacher.
Yareli relaxed. “On such a hot day… Good luck to them!”
Leo laughed, but he remained by the door, giving away what today’s lesson was.
She blew air from her lips. “History lesson, again?”
“History is a valuable tool for those who recognize its worth,” he responded with a hint of amusement.
Leo was a patient teacher. Yareli was often distracted by thoughts of her home, the human world.
While Izmari was a magical land, she was confined to Leo’s cottage and its yard.
Whatever magic he used to keep unwanted visitors away also kept any strange creatures from approaching.
It was safer that way, but it did leave Yareli wanting.
Even Leo’s home was plain, as non-magical as possible. She sighed.
She wished to see more of Izmari, and since she couldn’t, she yearned for home.
Strange thoughts would come and go, rising to the surface of her consciousness but slipping away before she could grab them.
She had made no progress with her memories; in fact, they seemed to be worsening.
She’d see a bird in the sky and think she once flew, but her anatomy told her that was false.
She hauled her bucket of weeds toward the house. Leo had a point—she had to learn about Izmari’s history. Intentional ignorance of the world she now inhabited was foolhardy.
Leo jogged to her, taking the bucket. She thanked him, noticing how the light bounced off his gray eyes, turning them silver.
He wore his white locs in a low ponytail, complementing his high cheekbones.
His cool, umber brown skin was radiant, his smooth complexion highlighted by the natural light.
Leo’s attractiveness was not lost on her; under different circumstances, Yareli might have acted on her impulses.
The thought of another dreaded history lesson froze her hand on the doorknob. She spun, almost bumping into Leo’s chest, and startled him. His eyebrows raised.
She gave him her best smile. “Since we had a lesson yesterday, how about you help me with combat training instead?”
He smirked and leaned in, his nose almost brushing against hers. Up close, his gray eyes had flecks of blue, a shade so beautiful it was as though he had been granted a piece of the sky.
“Are you certain?”
She held his stare, swallowing. “Yes.”
“Don’t regret it.” His eyes dropped to her lips, flicking back up.
Her pulse quickened, heat rushing to her cheeks. She cleared her throat and pushed past him to the dirt training ground. She rolled her shoulders in feigned nonchalance.
Getting romantically involved with a Fae while missing most of her memories spelled disaster with a capital “D,” but it didn’t stop her thoughts from wandering to another word starting with “d.” She shook her head. God, she was incorrigible.
She stretched while Leo conjured weights.
“Let’s start with warm-ups,” he said, passing her a pair of dumbbells.
Her fingers brushed against his, a jolt passed through her, and she dropped the weights.
“Sorry!” Her ears burned.
She wasn’t a kid anymore. Get a hold of yourself.
His laugh only embarrassed her further. She cleared her throat, muttering about his teasing.
“What’s that?” He came close again.
He was near enough that she could see the individual strands of his eyebrows.
She pushed him away. “I said you don’t respect personal space!”
That only made him laugh harder. She grumbled until they began their warm-up.
An hour and a half later, Yareli was sprawled on the ground, her breathing labored.
“You’re awful,” she said.
Leo sat on a stump across from her, leaning back on his forearms. The sun reflected off the sweat on his brow, and a smirk was still plastered on his face. “Who do you think trained me?”
“Don’t tell me—”
“Yup, Bri.”
Yareli released a groan as she stood. “My mistake. Remind me to never skip your history lessons.”
Every. Muscle. Hurt. She glared at him, wishing she could wipe the smug look off his face.
Yareli headed inside, settling for a cold shower.
Rinsing quickly, she stood before the wide mirror and stared at her reflection.
She traced the soft lines of her features—round face and round ears.
She was undoubtedly human. Why had someone as high-ranking as Tuom kidnapped her?
She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to remember, standing there until her teeth chattered.
But she remembered no more than she had that morning—her favorite season was autumn, which was unhelpful.
Plink…
Yareli turned, watching as another droplet fell from the faucet and into the tub.
Another dropped, then another, and another until she forgot her shivering and lost her sense of self in the droplets that formed on the faucet.
With every plop, a memory of a man bubbled closer to the surface of her consciousness.
A flash of hazel eyes and dark hair, his face was a smeared mess of colors, but she was certain she had known him well.
He reached for her, but she didn’t feel afraid.
A yawning desire flooded her veins. She leaned into his touch, shivering when he thumbed her cheek.
She opened her mouth, his name at the tip of her tongue.
August.
His name tore through her, ripping the seams that kept the memory intact, and it disintegrated.
Nausea hit her, and she heaved into the sink.
August. August. August. She muttered the name like it was her salvation.
Whoever he was, she needed to find him. He would help her get home. She was sure of it.
She rushed out of the bathroom, vaguely aware that she was covered only by a towel, and burst into the living room where Leo waited.
He jumped to his feet. “What’s wrong?”
“I need to find August.” She stumbled over her words. “He… Black hair, hazel eyes… He can help.”
Leo was silent, his face revealing nothing. It was unlike him to be so quiet. Had she said something wrong? Who was August?
“I think I know who you’re talking about.”
His words stunned her.
“Can you take me to him?”
“He’s not in Izmari right now. I’ll send a message, but it may be a while.”
Her shoulders drooped. Her mind blared, like a siren directing her to find him, but she couldn’t. Not yet.
Leo cleared his throat. “I’ll help you meet him, I promise. But… for now, let’s get you into some clothes before your lips turn blue.”
Yareli realized that the towel was much too small for her.
It barely reached past the top of her thighs, revealing much of her short legs, and left very little to the imagination.
She met Leo’s gray gaze and yelped, running to the bathroom.
Her heart thudded, but for a very different reason than before. Being seen by Leo…
Oh, what a cliché.