Chapter 8
Lisette
My mind whirled as I drifted alongside Lucien down the tower’s twisting steps, struggling to piece together the scene that had just unfolded between us yet unable to make sense of it no matter how many times I examined it. Lucien’s voice filled my mind, as clear as if he repeated the words.
That was when I started to fall in love with you, and you became not a duty but someone I chose for myself.
My heart twinged, as if fighting against the shackles of insecurity that had kept it dormant for so long in order to lift. I peered sideways at the faint, rosy hue brushing his stoic expression, barely discernible in the morning light tumbling through the window. His blush confirmed words I couldn’t make sense of in my faded recollections.
The long hours of the recent night had been measured by my failure to restore my stolen memories. I’d hoped wandering the corridors, which as Lucien’s betrothed I must have spent a lot of time in, would help me stumble upon any hint of what I’d forgotten, but in the end my elaborate game of hide-and-seek proved futile, as if the curse had erased not only my recollections but all evidence that might restore them…except from the prince.
My search eventually drew me atop the tower, as my hopes for a future distinct from my family’s indifference that I’d kindled the last time I’d stood here were as far away as the distant horizon. Lucien’s memory differed from the sense of disappointment that lingered here, making it not another place of sorrow but a place that signified the promise of a beginning.
It was here that I started to fall in love with you.
I struggled to cling to these words that felt like nothing more than wisps of fog, impossible to hold in my intangible grasp.
Why couldn’t I recall the shafts of light from my past, leaving only darkness to cloud my recollection? The curse had swallowed all that was good and beautiful, claiming every hope I might find in the visible world to force me to succumb. If not for Lucien’s confession acting as my sole anchor, I might have already drowned.
Was my forgotten love for him what truly what kept me here? Despite that sensible conclusion, I couldn’t shake the sense that something wasn’t quite right, as if he was hiding something behind his stoic countenance and carefully chosen words. The silence cloaking our footsteps only deepened my unease.
For having just declared himself, he didn’t look at me until we reached the base of the stairs. His rigid expression faltered just enough for a hint of shyness to peek through. “I’m worried you might vanish at any moment. Might I hold your hand?”
Even without a body, I experienced the sensation of my stomach flipping, a feeling that with my anticipation wasn’t entirely unpleasant. “Have we held hands before?”
“Of course, many times.” Though confidence filled his tone his voice hitched, whether in uncertainty or nerves I couldn’t tell. I thought I glimpsed a hint of guilt before he hastily averted his eyes.
I searched my chaotic jumble of memories for the event he described, but only recalled a snippet of fumbling hands and our fingers barely grazing before awkward hesitance caused us to hastily withdraw. Rather than make another attempt, I seemed to recall that we’d spent the remainder of our garden stroll walking some distance apart without even linking arms, the weight of embarrassment and discomfort between us as thick as the blossom-infused air.
I struggled to retrieve any memory that might have followed this ill-fated first attempt, but it was the only one I managed to extract. My discouraged sigh drew his worried gaze that sought for an explanation. “I’m sorry, I only remember the first moment we tried. From what I recall, we didn’t quite manage it.”
Crimson tinged his cheeks, but his lips curved slightly upwards. “My suave attempt must have left quite an impression for it to survive such a dastardly curse.”
I struggled to immerse myself within the recollection until a feeling rose above the shyness that tinged the remainder of the memory. His concern deepened as he noticed my darkening expression. “What is it?”
I hesitated, not wanting to voice my ridiculous insecurity, even as I wasn’t able to fully let go of one of the few portions of memory I’d been able to retrieve. “When we didn’t try again, I remember fearing you didn’t want to touch me.”
He sobered and evenly met my gaze. “It pains me that you’ve suffered from the burden of that mistaken assumption all of this time, one strong enough to remain out of the curse’s reach. That assumption couldn’t be further from the truth—I can assure you that only shyness held me back, nothing more.”
My lingering confusion withheld my longings to believe him. Shyness didn’t fit the confidence displayed in his usual royal bearing, even as I’d already glimpsed enough of this foreign emotion to believe he’d been victim to the same paralyzing affliction that prevented me from moving forward.
“Truly?” My already faint voice seemed smaller midst my uncertainty.
As if determined to prove himself, he straightened in resolve. “I feel horrible for unintentionally causing you any doubt. I know the gesture won’t be enough to make amends, but might I have another chance?” With a steadying breath he extended his hand towards me and then waited, an invitation for me to be the one to close the distance separating us.
I hesitated before an intangible, burrowed desire compelled me to reach out, pausing inches away from his hand. He waited patiently as I summoned my courage; after a moment he inched slightly closer, making it easier for me to bridge the last of our distance to rest my hand over his.
My breath hooked. My invisible body prevented me from feeling his inviting warmth or the roughness of his palms calloused from sword training, yet something tingled in the spaces separating us, creating the shadow of an impression that we were touching.
He closed his eyes, as if savoring the sensation we both imagined passed between us. I could almost feel his featherlight touch stroking my palm as his fingers curled around the outline of my hand, instinctively tightening his grip even though there was nothing to hold.
The shadow of a smile grazed his lips, such a contrast to his usual serious countenance. “This time nothing will compel me to let go of you.”
His words attacked my heart anew with additional foreign emotions that I wasn’t sure how to process. Despite my whirling thoughts, I made little progress as we resumed our walk and finally left the tower. I had no destination in mind, but Lucien led me purposefully outside. Reverence filled his expression as he took in the royal grounds cast in a sheen of golden morning.
“When you disappeared, I looked for you in locations that harbored a lot of memories for us and this was one of the first places I searched. We’ve spent a lot of time here.”
Familiarity filled the surrounding beauty as I took in the ornate hedges and blossoming flowers, pausing on a bench beneath the shade of a blossoming wisteria. Hope lit his eyes as he followed my gaze, dispelling his cloud of discouragement.
“That location bears the most significance; we sat there together often. Perhaps the best way to help you recall our courtship is to start from the beginning.”
We settled awkwardly side by side, not intimately close like a couple might sit but with considerable distance between us, despite my invisible state making it impossible for our proximity to cause us to accidentally brush against one another. Even with his determination to resume our courtship, silence once more reigned, broken only by the frequent shy and uncertain sideways glances we cast one another before hastily looking away.
This awkwardness felt more familiar than the lost conversations we struggled to recapture. Emotions rose above my forgotten fog—the unpleasant quiet that permeated my obsessive wondering what I could possibly say to him, my worries that our silence would stretch even into our marriage, our distance seeming like a chasm too wide to ever cross. Even if we managed to find both words and the courage to voice them, our topics were limited to small talk, empty platitudes concerning one another’s health, and the weather. These forced inquiries only drew us further apart rather than closer, leaving me with an inescapable sense of hopelessness.
Lucien cleared his throat, a sound that abruptly brought me back to the present. Whatever wisp of recollection had drifted through my mind immediately vanished, as if carried away by a passing breeze. “How are you feeling?”
Though I’d just remembered other moments when he’d sought after my wellbeing as a replacement for deeper, more meaningful conversation, something about his tone now seemed softer, more sincere, than all the previous times. I searched the concern filling his eyes before shyness drew my gaze back to my lap. “I’m fine.”
“Are you hungry?”
I shook my head. “Nor am I tired. My physical needs seem to have vanished along with my body.” The same couldn’t be said for him—dark shadows hovered beneath his eyes, more visible in the daylight than I’d been able to discern in the dim corridors. “Did you really stay up all night searching for me?”
Even with the evidence before me, such effort seemed far too great a sacrifice for someone like me. I didn’t require my lost memories to know that no one had ever gone to such lengths for me. My heart stirred, almost overwhelmed by the emotion enfolding it as he gazed at me earnestly, all trace of indifference absent from his face.
I didn’t speak my confusion out loud, but he was too attuned not to notice my doubt. ““Of course I did; I was afraid I’d lose you.” He made to say more, only to hesitate. “When we were atop the tower I couldn’t help but wonder…are you alright? I’m not referring to the curse.”
My heart lurched and for a moment I could only stare through the tears burning my eyes, unable to speak. No one has ever genuinely asked after me. The feeling seemed a part of me separate from my inaccessible past. I yearned to finally unlock the prison where I’d been storing all my hurt and burdens, exhausted by the years of serving as their sole warden.
“Lisette?”
I tried to push through the barrier shyness had created to return to the point our past courtship had reached where it no longer existed between us. If I had found refuge in Lucien, the last thing I wanted was to hurt the sole man I’d been able to depend on.
But as I prepared to share the hazy memories that were more emotion than actual event, the words refused to form on my tongue. I opened my mouth and then slowly closed it with a sigh; though I knew I needed to do my part to mend our forgotten relationship, I wasn’t quite ready to piece together the shadows haunting my past.
“I’m sorry, I’m not ready to share it.” I wasn’t sure I even remembered enough to fully confide in him; all I possessed was an aching loneliness and deep hurt that had woven through my life over the years to become an intricate part of me.
His shoulders slumped, but midst disappointment he remained understanding. “I’m here whenever you want to talk; I don’t want you to be alone.”
The sentiment broke down some of the stubborn walls surrounding my heart, allowing just enough light to penetrate and illuminate some of the shadows hidden there in order to kindle my need to be closer to him, though I couldn’t bring myself to shift towards him.
He seemed to sense this desire and scooted closer, as if the threads from our conversation were naturally drawing us together. Though I experienced an overwhelming desire to lean towards him, fear held firm, forcing me to withdraw. He flinched as if I’d struck him and I hastily gave the first excuse to come to mind.
“Forgive me, I’m just worried. What if our proximity causes you to catch the curse?”
Though it was a legitimate concern, it wasn’t the reason for my distance, nor could I deny that we’d already been much closer than this without the curse transmitting. I hated myself for the lie, a reciprocation he didn’t deserve for his efforts to rekindle what we’d lost. It wasn’t until this moment that I realized that for all my longings to have a relationship, the unfamiliarity brought by the unknown left me uncertain.
“The curse…” His mouth twisted around the word. “I wish I could assure you that your concern isn’t a barrier worth bothering ourselves over, but in truth should I catch it I won’t be able to help you…even as the situation is too dire for me to stay away. I may not be able to relieve you of the burden you’re still unable to confide in me about, but I can at least do my part to help you.”
Helplessness filled his unwavering gaze, but sincerity alone wouldn’t be enough to illuminate our path forward, especially when the curse had been raging across Brimoire for years, gradually worsening despite his earnest efforts.
Yet for all my doubt, I desperately wanted to believe in him, to regain the relationship we had lost. “Can you really help me?”
“I promised I would. While my information about the curse is limited, your reappearance has brought additional understanding that I hope will provide new possibilities I haven’t yet researched.”
His surmising brought to mind the familiar image of a vast library. Though my memories of my time spent within its walls remained out of reach on the dusty shelves of my mind, there was security found in my recollection of the towering shelves that seemed to cradle me almost protectively, making me wonder whether it had once served as a haven.
“I want to go to the library. Please.”
His eyebrows rose at my earnest plea. “Perhaps I’m going about rekindling our relationship in the wrong way. Rather than enjoying time in the gardens, you would prefer to be wooed over research?”
His teasing tone contained a hint of genuine curiosity, as if the answer to this question was truly beyond his current understanding, leaving me to wonder how much we had truly gotten to know one another before the curse consumed my memories.
Without any recollection of our courtship or even daydreams of the kind I would have wished for, I couldn’t answer his question. “How did you woo me the first time?”
He grew quiet before slowly meeting my gaze. “It was many little events that built upon one another with each interaction we shared. I will show these to you again, however many times I need to and wherever you want—whether it’s within this garden or the library.”
I stared at his defined features, somehow more handsome than before, as if this seemingly simple moment had worked upon my heart to bring about the smallest change. My gaze flickered down to his hand resting in the space between us. I let mine hover over his for a moment before withdrawing in case my earlier falsified objection to being close had any truth to it.
“I would like that.” My acceptance did little to restore what the curse had taken away, but something kindled my heart in its place, an emotion almost too foreign for me to immediately recognize—hope.