“The locket,” he answered, fishing it from a pocket. “I think it was the music that attracted the bear last night. My own fault, not yours. Something about the sound haunts me. As if I should know it.” He rested his chin on his muscled forearm. “It is maddening.”
“You said you took it from a man?” Phae asked after a long pause. “You said it was made by a Paracelsus.” She looked him in the eye but he would not meet her gaze.
He rubbed his chin back and forth across his forearm, his expression cloudy with turmoil.
She finished another tattered line and worked on another, letting the sunlight warm her face and hands. She bit off the thread. “It was my father.”
He nodded mutely, refusing to look at her.
“You said last night that I wouldn’t want to know more,” she said softly, working the needle and thread effortlessly. “I can see why now.” She sighed. “He is dead?”
The Kishion sighed deeply. “Yes.”
She was not sure how she should feel. Her father had abandoned her at an orphanage. Granted, he had made sure it was one that would not fear her heritage and magic, but he had done nothing to reveal himself to her and his own actions had violated the Arch-Rike’s trust. Now she was condemned because of him. The emotions were twisting and twining around each other, layer after layer. She resented her father. She craved to know more, even if it would wound her. What betrayal had he done to earn the Arch-Rike’s contempt?
“I never knew him,” Phae said, trying to keep control of her voice, to keep the conversation going. “I wish that I did. You do not remember your past, but what can you tell me of his?”
“You despise me,” he said flatly. “Don’t pretend otherwise. I do not begrudge you that emotion. I despise myself right now.”
“For killing him?” she asked, leaning forward.
“It was my duty,” he answered stiffly. “I am not entrusted with the reasons for my assignments, only to carry them out. I was first sent to arrest your father and bring him to the Arch-Rike for questioning. When I arrived at his tower, he used his magic to cause the tower to explode. I was left under a pile of rubble. Whether he knew the blast would kill me or not, I do not know, but it slowed me down. I began hunting him. His own actions labeled him guilty of treason. I fulfilled my assignment when I stabbed him and left his dead body crumpled near the edge of a pond. I don’t regret killing him. But I do regret that I am the one telling you about it.”
Phae nodded, tears welling in her eyes. It was so hard to listen to him speak of her father’s murder with so little emotion. Part of her hated him for it. Another part of her hated her father for betraying the Arch-Rike.
She swallowed and found her throat very dry. “What was—” She swallowed again. “What was his name please?” She brushed away the tears.
“Tyrus of Kenatos. Tyrus Paracelsus. You look…like him. I see the resemblance.”
Phae blotted the tears on her sleeve. “When we are back in Kenatos, you will give me over to the Arch-Rike. Then he will take away your memories again. You won’t remember…me. Or this.”
He stared at the grass and nodded solemnly.
She struggled to master her own emotions. She wanted to start sobbing, but she fought against the despair. “I don’t think I could live without my memories. Even the painful ones. Even last night.” She swallowed, looking down at her hands. “I think you should stop being a Kishion. You have a name. Someone out there must know it.” She nodded forcefully. “When you are done with this assignment, you should seek it.”
He looked at her in silence, staring at her thoughtfully. “You do not ask me to free you.”
Phae shook her head, working quickly on the remaining tear. “I know you will not. Your duty binds you. But I do ask you to free yourself.”
“What if I cannot live with myself?” he asked. “What if the memories kill me?”
She bit the last thread. “That is probably what the Arch-Rike wants you to think.”
There was enough light now. He stared in her eyes, as if her words were sinking deep into his heart. She could blink and snatch it away. She could snatch away his memory of meeting her. She almost did. But Phae could not bring herself to do it, not after giving her promise.
There was the sound of groaning iron. The gate opened ponderously. Phae looked up and realized men had gathered on the battlement walls and were pointing in their direction. She saw the flash of metal in the sunlight as riders emerged from the gate, coming at them from a trot to a full gallop.
The Kishion snatched the shirt from her hands and pulled it on quickly. Rising to a crouch, he tensed with recognition. “Romani,” he said venomously.