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Infuriated—because, based on what the people in this room had told her, pretty much everything interesting in her life had taken place in those six months. If everything they’d said was true, it was a shame she couldn’t remember any of it.

Scared—because it was hard to believe what they were telling her, hard to digest the fact that these people—Ivyana Cassel, Jack Steele, the other two who’d left the chamber—were protecting her, which went against everything rumor claimed about the most dangerous and feared Darsklaying circle in Angelthene.

She was friends with the Seven Devils—how very bizarre. And she had magic—even more bizarre.

And she was in Yveswich, a place she had only ever dreamed of seeing. Of course, when she’d dreamed of it, she’d hoped she might be visiting as a tourist instead of a…patient at…

What was this place called again?

Caliginous on Silverway. Some sort of medical facility?

The other Darkslayer in the room was Kylar Lavin, a member of the Shadowmasters and the Hollow. Loren had heard as many rumors about this Darkslaying circle as she had the ones in her hometown. Ivy was quick to tell her that she’d never met Kylar before—finally, a person she didn’t recognize, but for good reason. A real introduction this time, instead of those fake, awkward ones that made everyone stare at her like she had antlers growing out of her head.

The door to the chamber opened, and the man with the cropped brown hair and tech jewelry walked in. Behind him was the other—the black-haired one who’d stormed out.

It wasn’t cold in here, but Loren felt goosebumps prickle across her half-naked body as that man’s eyes immediately locked with hers, as if he felt that same magnetic pull that gathered in her chest every time he was around. With cold, weak hands she gripped the floating tabletop she sat upon, her heart pounding loudly.

Those eyes—a stormy, steely blue—were the kind of feature you’d never forget after seeing them, even just once. This was the face she had glimpsed while lost below the glowing tree—the last thing she remembered before all her memories had faded. Even with partial amnesia, her mind had clung to this one tightly, not wanting to let go of the memory of that face, even in death.

That mouth. That jawline.

Loren shivered.

Ivyana Cassel stepped forward, gesturing to the one with the brown hair that was buzzed short. “Loren, this is Tanner Atlas.”

Tanner Atlas—she’d heard plenty about him. He was the hacker for Hell’s Gate—the best hacker in Terra. He was very smart and very well-known.

He stepped forward and shook hands with her. “Welcome back, Loren.” A smile twitched at one corner of his mouth.

“Thanks,” she said in a small voice.

Ivy took a deep breath. “And this…is Darien Cassel.” Her chipper voice was suddenly strained. “Your—”

“Friend.” Darien Cassel’s rich, deep voice made the chills on Loren’s body intensify. He stepped forward and extended a large, scarred hand, the back of it covered in tattoos. “We’re friends.”

Everyone in the room was suddenly very quiet.

Loren eyed him, but slid her hand into his. His grip was solid and warm, and his hand all but swallowed hers. “Friend,” she repeated, squinting at him. “I’m…friends…with Darien Cassel.” She glanced about the room, her hand still in Darien’s. His steel rings were cold; he must’ve gone outside. “I’m…friends with the Devils.”

“And a few Angels of Death,” Darien said, that voice doing weird things to her body again. It was the nicest voice she’d ever heard—she didn’t need to remember the last six months to know that.

“Wow, who am I?” Loren laughed, the sound breathy, and as she smiled she saw Darien’s attention dip to her mouth. The sudden shift in where he was looking made those chills come back, though this time they were accompanied by a rush of heat that made her head spin. “I sound a lot more interesting than I remember.”

Darien’s mouth twitched with a smile. “May I help you up?” That hand was still grasping hers.

“Okay.” She slid to the edge of the levitating tabletop and slowly lowered one foot, toes pointing downward.

Gods, could this ridiculous thing be any higher? The ground seemed unnecessarily far away—or maybe she was simply too short, her leg stretched to its limit. Darien’s hold on her never faltered, and she found herself leaning into his arm for support—and felt impressed when that arm didn’t shake.

Finally, her toes met ground. The water on the floor was a comfortable temperature, like bath water. Slowly, she lowered her other foot and eased off the table.

As soon as she was standing, her legs folded under her like a fawn’s.

Darien’s heavily muscled arms circled her waist, catching her before she could fully fall. “Are you okay?” His face was right there—so close to her own that she could see the flecks of silver and darker blue in his eyes. There wasn’t much air in her lungs, and he was stealing the last of it.

“I think so,” she squeezed out, overly aware of how she was awkwardly half-crouching in the water, Darien’s solid arms keeping her from fully sitting. She was grateful for that; she didn’t want to get all wet.

“Do you mind if I carry you?”