Emory waggled her eyebrows. “Aren’t we?”
“Let’s just get back.” Memphis kicked at the ground, rolling his eyes.
It felt like a flutter of wings brushing against her consciousness, as she was pulled into a memory.
Memphis crushed Emory against his chest in a massive bear hug.
“Memphis get off me!” Emory shoved him back, grinning crookedly.
“Em, you are the best. Thank you for not telling anyone.”
Exhaling, Emory looked at one of her best friends. “Memph, it’s not my place to tell anyone you are getting private tutoring with your ability.”
Eyes glowing, a flush filled his cheeks as he hugged her again. “Still, thank you.”
As fast as it had come, the memory left, leaving Emory breathless. Over the last few weeks, snippets had come to her, most of it meaningless information but had solidified the echo of Memphis Carter within her. He was stubborn, was manipulative, had a taste for danger.
But wasn’t she as well?
She looked to the horizon, where the setting sun dipped in the sky. Brilliant golds and oranges bled into the sky, and the forest was painted with golden light.
Together, they walked back to the Academy, side-by-side and in happy silence.
***
The necklace fell out of the chest with a clang. Emory had sprawled out in her bunker, staring at the chest and working up the courage to open it.
Tentatively, she scooped up the thin silver chain, gazing at the beautiful amethyst gem with flecks of gold dust layering it. Her hands started to shake when she saw there was the tiniest of notes folded neatly in the bottom. As if reaching for the most delicate of feathers, she lifted it out and unfolded it.
For you, my dear. To remind you that you are never lost.
Her mother’s handwriting was thin and beautiful. Emory soaked in the words before her: To remind you that you are never lost.
Pride and fear shot through her simultaneously. This had been her mother’s, held by her, touched by her. She dropped the note and sat on her bed in silence, not quite grasping the beautiful gift. Had her mom known that she would be in danger? Why else hide a family heirloom?
Groaning, she dropped her face in her hands, not wanting to face her reality.
A sharp knock sounded at her door, and she stood, electrified. In a daze, she grabbed the necklace and clasped it around her pale throat while she walked to the door. Opening it, she asked, “Yes?”
Wyatt stood in front of her, thick arms crossed in front of his chest. “Well, isn’t that a pleasant way to greet someone. Hello to you too, Princess.”
Sighing, she mimicked his stance. “What do you want?”
He grumbled. “I’m to take you to the library to enlighten you on a history lesson.”
That got her attention. “I didn’t know there was a library.”
Pressing his lips together, he waited.
Rolling her shoulders, she closed the door behind her, and the pair took off down the hallway.
Wyatt tried to make conversation with her. He talked about his turn in the ring with Jaxson and how, “The git had multiplied and cheated his way through,” about him tracking the raiders, about what he ate for dinner.
On and on and on, he rambled until Emory stopped him. “Wyatt, why are you trying so hard to be nice to me? Why now?”
Scratching the back of his neck, Emory caught more detail of his tattoo: a sun beating down on the forest, deer like creatures with huge antlers and wings climbing out of the shadows through the air. In inky swirls, three women cupped crystals in their palms. The detail was beautiful.
“I didn’t like you because I thought you wouldn’t be able to survive this world or wouldn’t accept it. I told Memphis that not only did you have to prove to yourself that you are strong enough, you had to prove it to the rest of us as well. Now that you have, I would like to get to know you, if that’s okay with you.”
She turned a flaming beet red. Wyatt. Burly rough and tough Wyatt had accepted her. He playfully punched her shoulder.
“Don’t let this go to your head, though. The others will take time, especially Jaxson and Nyx.”
Nyx.
She cringed internally at the thought of the other woman who was fueled by her inner fire. She hoped that their paths didn’t cross soon.
Onward they walked, and she was at a loss for words, which Wyatt seemed to understand.
The library, it turned out, was on the same level as her room. The door was like every other in this metallic world, and Wyatt pushed it open, motioning for her to follow. The room was dark with one bookcase. The dreary walls were covered in maps, painting a visual picture for her. A very small desk and two chairs lay at the center.
It was small, but it was the coziest place she had seen here yet.
Wyatt pulled a worn black-covered book from the top shelf and gently said, “Sit.”
She gracefully accepted, her battered and bruised body complaining about her earlier activities that afternoon.
“This is the last copy of the History of Kiero,” he said, bitterly. “It dates back to before your parents were married. Memphis thought reading this might help your memories become clearer.”
She eagerly reached for the book, Wyatt holding it just out of her reach. “I will advise you to absorb what is here, but remember that this time, our future is ours to write.”
He held her gaze and then gently laid the book down in front of her. Standing, he took his leave. “I have to go check on Jaxson. I will be back in a couple of hours.”
His words were already background noise to Emory as she gently opened the fragile cover. It was apparently the day of gifts.
She eagerly looked to the first sentence and was swept away in the story about a magical kingdom that
