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I think about this. “I always thought you used your Unseelie side a bit like a mask. You tapped into it when you thought it would be useful, but I don’t think you ever truly embraced it. The last time we were here, you thought about it. You spoke of the kinship you felt with some of the Unseelie but…the attack I told you about changed your mind. After that, you said there was nothing for you here.”

“And that’s where I was wrong,” he says, turning back to me. “Even the Unseelie agree, the attack was not my fault. More than that, clearly it was naïve of me to think I could cut off whole parts of myself, allowing them to surface only when convenient. It was a fool’s plan and for what purpose?”

“I don’t think the Seelie Court was an easy place for you to grow up,” I say, feeling defensive of the old Ruskin, now that the new one is judging his choices so harshly. “It’s understandable you’d use your Unseelie side as a shield, only to hide it away when you didn’t need it. I think you had to get good at hiding things to survive.”

He looks thoughtful. “That may be. But it was still an emotional choice, not a logical one. Now that I’m not blinded by my past and we’re among the Unseelie, it’s clear to me no one side of me is better than the other. I have no need to limit myself. I can see my Unseelie blood for the strength it has the potential to be.”

“I’m glad,” I say truthfully. “But are you sure this is the best route to your memories?”

He shrugs. “It’s only one theory Maidar has, but it’s a promising one. The suppressed parts of my Unseelie identity could be acting as a block to other elements of my subconscious, but we will learn more as we go.”

“All right,” I say. “I understand. Just please be careful.”

He doesn’t immediately agree, and that worries me, but he distracts me with his next question.

“How did dinner go?”

I sit down on the bed, thinking about how to explain as I ease my aching feet out of my shoes.

“They weren’t very talkative at first. At least, not to us. So I needed to think outside of the box.”

Ruskin hears the note of apprehension in my voice, enough that his expression turns wary.

“How?”

“I got myself invited to a different event, some kind of game. Bastet, it’s called.”

“Invited to play with the High Fae? And you accepted?” Now it’s his turn to sound appalled.

“Don’t tell me you remember bastet. Destan hadn’t even heard of it.”

“I don’t know it, but I do know that any sport the Unseelie play will not be safe for a human,” he says. He looks agitated. Suddenly full of energy with nowhere to put it.

“A regular human, maybe. Why does everyone keep forgetting that’s not me? Besides, you’re the one who sent Destan and me off on our mission to win them over. Well, this is it. If my team wins tomorrow, do you know what I get? A seat on Lisinder’s council. Imagine what we can do with that.”

I can tell he’s torn by the news. He settles for looking at me neutrally. “I’m glad you’re using your initiative, but you shouldn’t have felt so much pressure that you put yourself in danger.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“I—” He stops, a smile spreading across his face that sends shivers down my spine. “Fair point.” He comes to sit down beside me. But I should know better to think that Ruskin—memories or not—would just agree I’m right and move on. Proving me correct, he turns towards me so that his breath caresses the shell of my ear.

“But that doesn’t mean you have to go through it alone.”

“I’ll be fine,” I say, almost reflexively, distracted by the way he’s leaning against me. I’m suddenly back where we were before dinner, remembering being on the bed beneath him. We’d been interrupted then…but what if we hadn’t been? What if I’d let his kisses drift lower, allowed myself to give in? My hands twitch at the thought, eager to pull him closer.

“Such flippancy,” he says, but his voice his low and enticing. “You will be fine, because I will make sure of it. There’s no way you’re going to that game without me, Eleanor.” I don’t know when he put his hand on my thigh, but it feels like the heat of it is burning through my skirts. “There’s no way I’ll let any harm come to you.”

I turn towards him and he reaches for my face. I know he wants to kiss me again—of course I want to kiss him too, desperately. But his words are so protective, so reminiscent of the old Ruskin, that I have to know what’s behind them. I pull back, resisting him drawing me in, though our faces remain inches apart. His breath ghosts across my face, warm and sweet, and I fight to focus. There’s something I need first, even more than his lips on mine again.

“Why?” I ask, searching his eyes for a sign of his feelings for me. “What do you care if I go out there tomorrow and get myself killed?” It’s deliberately provocative, but I want a straight answer.

I see a muscle in his jaw flex at the thought and—there it is. A flash of fear. He is afraid of losing me.

“Because you are my naminai. My soulmate. Mine.” The powerful possessiveness of his last words sends a jolt through me, like a lightning bolt striking. That’s what I want—even if it’s just the bond talking, even if he doesn’t remember it all—I need just a sense that he understands what we are to each other. It ignites that wild fire in me I’ve been trying to hold at bay. Now I want to let it burn freely.

I lean forward and capture his mouth with mine. His hand tightens on my thigh, but I push it away, twisting round and swinging my other leg over to straddle him. His hands automatically dip beneath the skirt fabric to cradle my ass, as he slips his tongue into my mouth, exploring—still eager, but less urgently this time. He knows this isn’t a fleeting thing, that we won’t allow ourselves to be interrupted this time. I feel a rumble of pleasure in his chest as his hands tug me in closer and he nips my bottom lip.

“Show me,” I say, my voice rough with mounting need. “Show me how I’m yours.”