CHAPTER 14 #4
I squinted at him. “How can we not remember something like that?”
“Because of the measures taken,” he explained, then sighed.
“The war ended when a coalition gathered magisters and rulers from every country to put an end to it. By then, the death toll had already grown too high. It was decided that the only path forward was secrecy. Then there were the camps, the whole process that took years to cover different cities. A lot of memories were wiped. And the Shroud happened, keeping our existence hidden.”
At some point, my mouth had fallen open. I closed it, lowering my chin and staring at the running water covering our ankles.
“The resolution took almost as long as the war,” Reagan added grimly. “That’s why today you don’t know about us.”
“How?” I asked in disbelief. “How was that even possible? Erasing memories from every person?”
“Every human,” Reagan said. “I’m sure some slipped through the cracks, but it was too few to make a difference. Your people likely dismissed them as lunatics.”
A knot formed in my stomach.
It was unbelievable. Absurd. Invasive. And it meant we were blind to our own history, completely oblivious to a long, catastrophic war.
My steps slowed.
Soon, I would return to that same ignorance. I wouldn’t have a choice.
I didn’t know how I hadn’t thought about that.
“Were there any humans in the coalition?” I asked.
Reagan glanced over his shoulder at me, looking uncertain. “No, I don’t think there were. Why?”
My mouth clenched shut, and I shook my head.
I could feel his gaze on the side of my face, as if he were trying to gauge whether I was angry. I felt like I should be.
From a few metres ahead, Coriander shouted, his voice barely carrying over the wind. “Reagan, we’re just going to pop into the shop. Will you both wait here?”
Reagan dipped his chin, and we came to a halt, waiting for the Barrows.
I turned to the water, my gaze caught by the bright orange hues of the sky reflected on its surface.
“Jane?” Reagan’s murmur came from my right, and I realised he was beside me, his gaze fixed on the horizon as well. “Are you all right?”
“I don’t know,” I answered, narrowing my eyes on him, on the softer tone. “Do you resent humans because of the conflict?”
He met my gaze, brows drawn, tendons standing out along his jaw.
“I don’t resent humans for a centuries-old war or the actions of a few,” he said, his voice carrying on the wind. “I think I would have liked to live when there was no Shroud and when there was still peace.”
It surprised me to hear that. Not because I thought Reagan bore anything against humans; I’d never felt that from him. But I had assumed he was content with the current reality.
I’d assumed a lot.
“Why would you want that?” I asked.
He exhaled. “Even after the war, what happened to some families was tragic. They were forced to be separated from their loved ones.” His gaze darkened.
“Their families were lost. The resentment is still there. The prejudice still exists today. It’s hard to think we made people grieve, that we tore families apart, only for the hatred to stay. But it was the only way to end a war.”
My chest tightened. I recalled something Reagan had said to me once.
Do you have any idea what would happen if humans found out about us again?
His reaction no longer seemed so callous. Not at all.
“That’s why you didn’t want my presence here,” I said. “You were worried.”
His jaw tightened, though the look in his eyes confirmed it.
“I should’ve realised you wouldn’t grasp the gravity of it,” he admitted. “I grew up hearing about the war. You didn’t.”
I swallowed. His voice was low, threaded with regret, and the weight of it pressed against my senses until I could almost taste the sorrow.
“That sounds awful. I’m sorry,” I said quietly.
Reagan went still, just barely, and didn’t look away from me. “You’re sorry. For what?”
“It sounds like you’re worse off for knowing,” I said. “For having to live with it. I don’t know if ignorance is a mercy or . . . a weakness. You know?”
Reagan let out a quiet breath. He didn’t answer right away, but his lips twitched.
“Any time I see a human, it’s never for anything good,” he murmured, as though he’d spoken without meaning to. “I’m almost waiting for something awful. But I can’t see why you would be.”
I wondered what those other moments were, what had taught him to expect the worst.
He was utterly still, studying me.
A stronger wave broke at my feet, pulling me back to the present. More than half my skirt was soaked, the fabric clinging stubbornly to my legs. I lifted it, twisting to wring out the water, but only succeeded in creasing the material.
With a sigh, I let it fall, and the damp cloth wrapped around my legs again.
Fingers brushed through my hair, drawing my attention. Reagan was tucking my hair behind my ear, absorbed by the stray lock sliding down his fingertips.
A slap might have been less shocking.
He spoke in a soft voice. “Don’t worry about the skirt. I’m sure Cerridwen stocked you with plenty of spares.”
“I know,” I breathed, my voice seeming to vanish.
His fingers grazed my shoulder as he let the loose strands fall.
“Why?” Reagan murmured, as if to himself.
I replied anyway, my voice as low as a whisper. “Why what?”
He was scanning my face. “Why do I feel like I’m drowning in a sea of questions when I look at you?”
I didn’t respond. Didn’t know what to say. I stood very still, letting Reagan scrutinise me, his gaze trailing down my body like a lover’s caress, halting where the wet fabric of my skirt clung to my thighs.
My chest rose sharply, heat flushing my neck, my face. I didn’t think anyone had ever beheld me quite so intensely. But I knew what it meant. I knew what kind of longing that was.
It made me want to watch him, too.
Reagan drew his lower lip between his teeth.
My mouth watered, and I heard the voice in my head warning me that my eagerness was a bad sign. I ignored it.
This was just looking. Looking was harmless.
I traced the quick movement of his throat, and my attention narrowed on the exposed skin where his neck met his chest. I followed the curve of muscle there and the line of his sternum, carving a path down his skin.
A strange satisfaction surged, one that I didn’t know if it came from me staring at him or from him staring back.
Alameda’s voice drew us out of the silence. “We brought ale and wine, because, well . . . we’re having a get-together today.”