Total pages in book: 194
Estimated words: 187021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 935(@200wpm)___ 748(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 187021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 935(@200wpm)___ 748(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
“I don’t…I don’t usually remember.” She blinked. Graves could see her dream. He could remember it. “You remember it, though?”
“Yes,” he said with a sigh. “I remember. How much do you recall?”
“Mostly the sense of being chased and hiding. I was under the floor?”
Graves sighed. “I came in when you’d already been in the dream. You were young. You called a man Daddy while he put you in a hole under floorboards. He told you to stay quiet as he covered you up. Then there was screaming.”
“The screaming I remember.” She shivered. “The screaming is always there. I hate these nightmares.”
“I don’t think it was just a nightmare. It had the feel of a memory. It’s different than the quality of dreams.”
“But my…dad,” Kierse whispered. “I don’t have any memories of him. Except that I was only six when he left.”
“And that never struck you as odd?”
“What?”
“That you remember nothing else?”
“I assumed the trauma…” She trailed off. “Wait, do you think it was the spell?”
He nodded. “It must have wiped away all knowledge of your parents. And if I had to guess, you’re starting to remember.”
“Oh,” she whispered.
A part of her wanted to believe her parents were still out there, but that was just a dream, too. Her mom had died in childbirth, and in her head, she knew that if her dad was still alive, he would have come back to New York at any time in the last twenty years and found her. But he hadn’t. Which meant that her parents were dead. And she would never find them again.
“Why is it like this?” she asked. “Why can’t I remember?”
“A spell like that is incredibly powerful. The amount of magic needed to hide your identity as well as erase parts of your memory had to have been outrageous.”
“Beyond you?”
“Not my kind of magic,” Graves said—though he didn’t deny that he was powerful enough. “What matters is that you are remembering.”
“Well, fuck,” she said, standing from the bed and pacing away from him. “What I don’t understand is why the memories were taken in the first place. Why would someone do that? Why bother to put this spell on me? Why didn’t they kill me?”
Graves wavered at that. “My guess is as good as yours. But I do know that the best way to get answers is to retrieve your memories.”
She huffed. “Yeah.”
“What? Do you not wish to remember?”
“I do,” she said on a sigh. “But the bracelet—the one I stole from the queen…”
“Yes?”
“I’ve been trying to find a way into the goblin market in Dublin. I stole the bracelet to trade for a way inside.”
Graves frowned. The sheets fell from his bare torso as he rose to his feet. “The actual market and not the bookshop?”
“Yes, Nying Market,” Kierse said, waving him off.
“Nying Market is not a place for you.”
Kierse narrowed her eyes at him. “You don’t get to decide what is and isn’t good for me.” She held her hand up to keep him from saying more. “I wanted to get rid of my nightmares.”
“Nightmares you now realize are memories.”
Kierse nodded, hugging her arms around her waist. “So now I can get a gift from Nying to remember them.”
“That is not a good idea.”
“It’s perfect.”
“Nying does not require fair value for trades, Kierse,” Graves told her. “There’s no guarantee you’ll get exactly what you want, and it always takes more than it gives.”
“So I should forget it altogether?” she demanded. “Whoever did this to me took my first six years. I can’t sit back and do nothing, and this is the best plan.”
“I didn’t say you should do nothing. There are other ways to retrieve memories.”
Kierse glanced down at his hands as she realized what he was suggesting. Graves could read people. But not her—not unless she was drained of magic, like she was tonight. She couldn’t just turn off her absorption powers, and frankly, she didn’t want to. He might be able to get back those memories, but who knew if it was even possible to let him into her mind without leaving herself utterly vulnerable? This felt like the easier of the two options.
“No,” Kierse said flatly.
“You’d rather go into the market than let me help you?”
“I’d rather at least try,” Kierse said.
“You’re being obstinate.”
“And you made me that way.” She wrenched away and turned to face the window. The tower was illuminated in all its glory. “There’s a reason I don’t trust you in my mind. You were the one that hid my identity from me. You were the one who burned this bridge. You don’t get to choose the terms for when to mend it.”
“Fine,” Graves said through clenched teeth. “Then you’re not going into the market alone.”
“What?” She looked at him over her shoulder. “Don’t you have to run home to New York? Prepare for the auction to get your precious cauldron?”