Page 79 of To Scale the Emerald Mountain

“Whatever you need, Elly.”

The cafe owner comes back bearing a tray loaded down with fried dough and an assortment of mismatched ramekins. She sets it down and smiles warmly at me again. The rich scent of sweet, yeasted pastry and coconut oil hits my nose. As delicious as they smell, my stomach is unsettled and sick.

“Kraeston, please, tell Cescily I won’t be able to have that order ready when she requested. She knows to give me more warning than a midnight message the night before.”

At the name, a memory begins to beat against the protective glass over the blank spots of my mind. It knocks against it over and over. The relentless pressure makes my head heavy and pound with a stabbing pain until a tiny, relieving crack appears. A crack just large enough to allow a miniscule drop of ink to fall through, thick and cloudy.

Hanging off Alec’s leg—like one of the strange bears at the city menagerie in a tree—I look over at the dark-haired girl wrapped tight around his other. My matching messy buns bounce and Cescily’s long dark braid swings. Alec makes silly grunting noises of effort, barely lifting a foot to move forward. He pretends to struggle to walk down the bright, colorful halls of the palace with us weighing him down. We laugh and squeal with joy every time his exaggerated footfalls slam against the ground and make us shake.

Kraeston groans—pulling me out of my memory.

“Don’t do this to me, Norah. You know Cescily is the shoot the messenger type.”

Norah throws her hands up. “I was about to send word to her, but here you are, sent by the gods themselves to make my life easier.” She smiles and pats his cheek.

A warm drip of blood escapes from my nose as Kraeston yells after her, “I’d imagine we will need a bag to take these home. Good luck with that one as a sister-in-law,” he chuckles, handing me a napkin.

My head snaps up. “The waitress?” I ask, confused.

“No. Cescily.” Now Kraeston looks confused. “Gods, I knew you couldn’t remember much about Alec, but does it extend to the whole family?”

“How did you know my memories of the king haven’t come back?”

Kraeston knits his brow, dipping a pastry into caramel sauce and eats it in one bite. “Why do you keep calling him that?”

Because I can’t find it within myself to say his name.

“I asked how you knew about that,” I repeat.

“And I asked you to eat.” He nods at the dough balls. “Eat one, and I’ll tell you.”

“You’re bargaining with me?” My eyes narrow, incredulity coating my words..

“Absolutely.”

Begrudgingly, I pick up a pastry and dip it in chocolate. I shove the whole thing in my mouth and instantly regret it. My tongue is too dry, but I chew it as quickly as I can manage and forcibly swallow it down. I watch Kraeston expectantly.

“I know because I was present when Alec interrogated his brother.” Kraeston eats another ball and cocks his head. “Well, not so much an interrogation. You know how it is.”

My frustration bubbles. “I think you know that I don’t.”

“Think, Elly. You know what they can do.”

Alec didn’t interrogate Locane because he pulled the answers straight from his mind. He saw everything.

That means he saw…

Acid creeps up my throat, and I regret eating the one dough ball. It wasn’t worth the answer. My cheeks flush pink and I try to wrestle my coiling hot guilt back into submission.

I clear my throat. “Well, if that’s the method he used, then he must have told you himself.”

“He did. You don’t remember anything about Alec because Locane used dark magic to try to sever your mating bond. Though your memories of Alec haven’t come back, Locane did not succeed in his mission.”

The glow in my heart brightens, as if trying to prove Kraeston’s words.

Norah comes back with a paper bag and three small, lidded jars. She quietly deposits them on the table and takes her leave.

“I have no memories of his family either. They must be in with some of the blank spots. He is there in some of the gray; but not his face or his voice. Just this… presence.”