Page 73 of To Scale the Emerald Mountain

It’s been days since he left, and still the tears come.

I asked Nana if she knew why Alec left, and all that she would say was that he would tell me when he got back. I’m frustrated with her, too. I’m frustrated with everyone. Everyone is as tense as Alec was that day; but no one will tell me why. Something has obviously happened. Nana and I rarely stay at the castle this long. And deepdown, I know that Alec wouldn’t really leave without me unless it was important.

Sighing heavily, I roll over on my back, staring up at the wood paneled ceiling. I rub my tired eyes when my favorite, rumbling voice rings clear through my head.

“Come to me, my clove.”An image of the garden where we first met flashes in my mind.

My breath hitches in surprise. Alec has never spoken straight to my mind before. He does so with others often. He told me several years ago—when I asked why he won’t with me—that he doesn’t wish to have any conversations with me that I can’t participate in.

One day, when we complete our bond, that would change.

My heart beats fast in excited anticipation, Alec’s glow around my heart pulsing. Even though I’m still upset with Alec, guilt has been gnawing at me over the hurtful things I said. I’ve been desperate to apologize; to tell him how afraid I was that he would take me at my word and never come back to me. I want to tell him how I could never imagine a life that didn’t include him.

Grinning, I bound through the castle halls on my way outside to meet him, paying no attention to my indecent state of dress. The castle is quiet in the late hour, and I meet no one on my way out. I make it to the dark garden and see Alec’s shadowed silhouette in the light of the moons, the green and white luminescence bouncing off his white shirt.

“Alec,” I breathe softly when I see him.

He turns slowly and begins to stalk towards me.

“Hello, Ellya.” Something about his voice is strange; his gait is slightly off.

It strikes me how odd it is that Alec’s wearing white; all I’ve ever seen him in is black. His hair has gottenmuch longer—but it’s only been a few days since I saw him last. His build is a little different, leaner and less bulky. But mostly, I notice his scent that drifts to me on the night breeze. It almost smells like his leathery scent but something about it is just so…off.

My eyes go wide as I remember Alec briefly mentioning his twin brother who he’s been estranged from for many years.

Fear grips my belly tight as a sheen of cold sweat breaks out across my skin. “You’re not Alec,” I whisper in realization.

He smiles and lets loose a laugh that makes the hairs on my neck stand.

“No, I’m not.”

Waking with a start, my head pounds in my temples.

As I sit up in the soft bed, a light blanket slips off me. The rush of blood in my ears increases while my mind is expanding and stretching.

All my memories are bleeding back—like ink soaking into paper and seeping out to cover the blank spaces. Only, some spots are left open. Small and sporadic holes that the ink skirts completely, leaving empty places. The dark ink halts in other spots before turning a diluted gray. I know what the blank and gray spots are, but I don’t know why they won’t fill in. I don’t know why there is the exception of my first time meeting Alec, as well as the last time I saw him before I was kidnapped.

Locane’s magic is finally lifting and releasing me, but not everything comes back.

Finally, my confusion that I’ve been battling begins to lift, only leaving the lingering wonder of why Locane went to such lengths to wipe my memory and control my reality.

I was never in a dungeon cell. Locane only fed me that illusion when he finally took control of me after weeks of trying to fighthim off. My fingers rub gingerly at my temples. The pounding has eased but the ache remains.

My eyes take in the room I’m in. I didn’t look when Alec carried me in here, too afraid to open my eyes and see him again, even though I allowed myself to be comforted by his warmth and his calming scent.

My guilt can’t handle the pain he showed me.

The room is large with sandstone walls and arched windows. A stained-glass door leads to a balcony outside, the panes glittering like jewels with the soft light of the moons. The sky is dark outside. Flicker lamps hang from chains, emitting barely enough light to illuminate the room to see. I can’t take in the finer details, only vague outlines of the rugs, pictures, and potted plants around the room.

I’m alone.

But then I notice a brighter light peeking from the crack underneath a door. I assume it’s a bathing chamber and am proven right when I hear a faucet turn and water run.

Instinctively, my fists clutch the satin blanket and bring it to my chest, the smooth fabric brushing against my skin. My heartbeat increases, and I break out in an anxious sweat.

Alec was here when I fell asleep, sitting dutifully by my side. I’m afraid to face him again. Now that I’ve rested some—and my emotions have calmed to manageable levels—I don’t know that I’m ready to see him. My memories of him may not have returned, but the blank spots and gray areas show that there should be many. They show that Alec has been endlessly present since I was five years old.

Many of the gray spots indicate that he was there for a lot of my training while mastering my gifts. Just out of sight when everyoneelse is visible and clear. That calming presence is palpable in all the gray memories, and I know that it’s him.