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He bends and stretches the limb, now free of my makeshift sling. “Good as new. Although that lunatic of a healer asked me why I didn’t want to keep the scar. Can you believe these people?”

“These people are the only ones we’ve got right now, so I’d suggest getting used to them.”

“I’d say the same for Ruskin,” Destan deflects, frowning.

“What do you mean?”

“You have to face the possibility his memories might not come back, Eleanor.”

I perch on the edge of his bed, shaking my head.

“I can’t consider that until we’ve tried everything else.” I know it probably sounds like I’m just being stubborn, but sheer dogged determination might be the only way I get through this. “It’s not just him not remembering me. He’s different like this. I don’t know what it is…”

Destan shrugs. “Maybe he has less baggage this way. He doesn’t know us, so he’s not exactly being friendly, but he seems…freer, doesn’t he? Not so secretive.”

“I thought the same thing when he announced to the king and everyone else that we’re naminai,” I admit.

“And now you’re stuck in a room with him,” Destan says with the hint of a laugh in his voice. “Dear me, what a predicament.”

I scowl. “It didn’t occur to me. I don’t know what the rules are around fae and this stuff, but in Styrland you’re only expected to share a room as a couple if you’re married.”

“Really?” Destan says. “How odd.”

“What is the difference between being bonded and being married?” I ask. My voice trails off a little at the end, suddenly self-conscious about the comparison.

“Being naminai bonded is a purely magical state, whereas marriage is mostly cultural. Though there are certain rituals that have to take place to make it official,” he says thoughtfully. “Why do you ask? Don’t tell me our forgetful Ruskin has decided to pop the question.”

I blanch. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Although he did propose something last night, I decide to spare Destan the details.

“Just checking. I never know with you two.”

A single, loud knock sounds at the door and Ruskin strides in, looking very composed now he’s got all his clothes back on. I should be relieved, but it doesn’t stop me picturing him from last night, naked and aroused in front of me. I try to hush my traitorous mind. Since I accepted the bond it’s like I can’t even be near him without wanting more.

“There’s an Unseelie here claiming he knows me,” Ruskin says.

“Does he look a little…goatish?” I ask.

“‘Little’ is an understatement,” he says dryly. I push past him and into our room, the two fae men following.

“Maidar,” I say, clasping the old Unseelie’s leathery hands. “You’re looking well,” I say truthfully. The last I saw of him he was being attended to by healers after the attack on the mountain, beaten black and blue by one of the Unseelie who targeted us.

“It’ll take more than a few foolish upstarts to keep me down,” he says gruffly, looking us up and down. “And here I thought I’d gotten rid of you two.”

“No such luck, I’m afraid,” I say as Ruskin settles down on a chaise behind us and Destan bows to Maidar.

“Good to see you again, Magister,” Destan says.

Maidar peers at him, taking in his fancy clothes. “Lionsvale, you haven’t changed at all.” It doesn’t really sound like a compliment to me, and Destan seems to agree, because he coughs and straightens his jacket, stepping back from his old tutor.

“We need your help again,” I say, cutting to the chase.

“What is it this time? More practice with metal reading? Or do you finally want to get to grips with your transmutation?”

“It’s not me,” I say, turning to Ruskin. “It’s him.”

Destan and I relay to Maidar the events at the Seelie Court up until Ruskin got taken through the portal to Interra, at which point Ruskin interrupts, seemingly tired of hearing people talk about him like he can’t speak for himself. He tells the story from there, covering his fight with Evanthe and the attack from the monster.

“And then…” He turns to stare at me. “And then you appeared. I thought you were a vision at first—too radiant in a world of shadow, but you conjured magic—distracting the Interra creature long enough for me to kill it. Then you ran up to me and…” He meets my gaze and I know we’re both remembering that I kissed him. It must’ve seemed so bizarre, having a strange woman just run up and plant her lips on him, but Ruskin doesn’t look like he thought it odd. The way he’s looking at me, it almost feels like the memory is precious to him. Now those easy kisses have been taken from me, I feel the same.