Chapter 110
Ellaine’s Point of View (as Edith):
The great hall was alive with light and warmth. Laughter echoed off the high–vaulted ceilings. Music from a soft string trio flowed beneath the murmur of voices and the clink of goblets.
I hadn’t realized how long it had been since I’d been in a place like this. Not just beautiful-
-but
welcoming.
“Here,” Damon said, pulling out a bench for me at the lower table, not too far from the center where nobles and court officials were seated, yet far enough to keep us comfortable in our simplicity. “This is the spot reserved for the
I sat, brushing invisible dust from my skirt as my eyes flicked around finished dream. Familiar. Terrifyingly familiar.
the
delivery tea
team.”
The longer I stayed, the more this castle gnawed at my mind like a half-
But every time I tried to focus, it vanished–like fog slipping through my fingers.
“Edith, this is Monica,” Damon said, nodding toward the red–haired woman across from me. “She’s the one who helped us set up your room for the night. Told me I needed to stop calling myself a merchant and start dressing like I wasn’t raised by wolves.”
Monica chuckled, her eyes never leaving mine. “It’s true. He had twigs in his hair when I first met him.”
I smiled politely, but a strange tension pulled at
my chest.
Monica extended her hand, and when I took it, a shiver went through me.
She held it a beat longer than necessary. Her touch was warm, grounding–but her expression unreadable.
“I’ve never heard of a healer with your precision,” she said after a moment. “Elias spoke highly of you.”
“Elias has poor eyesight and a kind heart,” I said gently, trying to deflect the sudden attention.
“Don’t be modest,” Damon chimed in. “Tell them what you did when Elias’s leg wound festered last winter. You crushed that blackroot into salve like it was second nature.”
Monica tilted her head. “Where did you learn that?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted softly. “It’s like it was already in me. I just… know things. I don’t remember where from. Sometimes I wake up and feel like I’ve forgotten something important, but when I try to chase it, it’s gone.”
A long silence followed my words.
Then Audrey approached, her tall form moving like shadow and
“I’m Audrey,” she said. “May I sit?”
steel i
line
one.
I nodded and shifted to make space. She sat beside me, her eyes careful, like someone reading a very old book.
“You said you don’t remember?” she asked casually, pouring herself s
I hesitated, unsure how much to say, but Damon answered for me.
goblet of wine.
“She’s not lying. The old couple–Elias and Nara–they found her half–dead by the riverside near the old ruins, about eleven months ago. Looked like she’d been mauled or tortured, or both.”
1 flinched slightly at his bluntness.
“She had silver hair, blood everywhere, wounds deep into the bone. And yet, she was breathing. Nara said it was like she refused to die.”
1/4
I stared down at my hands. Those memories- those awful, blinding flashes of pain–came only in dreams. I never spoke of them.
“They cared for her,” Damon went on. “Treated her like their own daughter. Their kids died in the last rogue war, so Edith filled that gap. She helped rebuild their garden, learned the trade with Elias. She has a talent, I swear–like she was born with herbs in her blood.”
Audrey and Monica exchanged a glance I couldn’t read.
“You don’t remember your name?” Audrey asked me.
“No,” I whispered. “Not even my own. One night I was nothing. Then I woke up with the name ‘Edith‘ because Nara said I looked like her grandmother.
“Does it ever… feel wrong?” Monica asked gently. “That name?”
I looked up, startled.
All the time.
But I didn’t say that.
“I don’t know what feels right,” I said instead. “Only that sometimes I get this ache. Like I’m trying to remember someone I love–but their face is missing.”
A silence spread across the table.
Then Audrey spoke, her voice softer than before. “That sounds like the kind of love that survives even when the mind forgets.”
Goosebumps rose on my arms.
I swallowed and reached for the tea.
At the far end of the hall, the King’s seat remained empty, but occasionally, I felt like
above.
someone was w watching me. Not from within the room–but from
The hall had balconies. Shadows.
I caught myself looking toward them more than once, and every time I did, my heart would
After the feast, Monica offered to walk me to the guest wing.
race
The corridor was quiet, dimly lit with glowing orbs hanging in sconces, casting long shadows across the walls.
“You’re staying just down the hall from the apothecary,” she explained. “If you want, we can show you our garden tomorrow. It’s not as wild as Elias’s but the greenhouse has herbs from the western marshes.”
“That would be lovely,” I said.
Monica paused at the door. Her eyes lingered on me again.
“You’re safe here,” she said.
“I know.”
“No, I mean truly safe. No one will hurt you here. Even if you can’t remember… your body will.”
She left me with those words, closing the door behind her.
I stood there, heart pounding, as the room embraced me in silence.
Who was before all of this?
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Chapter 110
And why did this castle feel like it once held my soul.
That night, I couldn’t sleep.
Something hummed beneath my skin. Not fear. Not quite.
Something ancient. Familiar. Hungry.
I found myself walking the corridors alone.
I didn’t know where I was going–but my feet seemed to know. My hands grazed the walls as if they were speaking to me in silence.
Every guard I passed didn’t stop me. They only nodded, bowed slightly, and let me through without question.
Why?
Why did they trust me so easily?
It didn’t make sense.
I kept walking.
Down a winding hall, through an archway of blooming ivy, across a quiet garden path.
Then I stopped.
My breath caught in my throat.
Blue roses.
A single bush stood at the center of a moonlit courtyard, bathed in silver glow. I’d heard of them. Rumors. Legends. Rare and sacred.
Why were they here?
Drawn forward, I walked until I knelt beside them. The petals were cool to the touch, kissed by dew. My fingers reached out, trembling.
I had never seen them before.
And yet… my chest ached with a memory I couldn’t grasp.
When I touched a bloom, a sharp prick caught my skin.
“Ow–shit,” I hissed, drawing back as blood welled at my fingertip.
“Careful.”
The voice was deep. Familiar.
I gasped as a warm hand gently caught mine, wrapping large fingers around mine before I could pull away.
I froze.
Slowly, I looked up–my breath caught in my throat.
Golden eyes.
Fierce, glowing. Devastated.
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Chapter 110
He was beautiful.
Terrifying. Broken. Like a storm barely caged in a man’s skin.
And those eyes weren’t looking at me.
They were looking into me.
Who… who was he?
Why did my heart break just seeing him?
