Which left her with precisely zero likely candidates.
Her stomach sank. He was not there.
Arianne reached the bar and climbed onto a stool. Her father was most certainly not in this room. A staircase rose up the right-hand wall, probably leading to rooms of ill-repute on the second level. She did not relish the thought of venturing up there to search.
The door behind the bar swung open on squeaking hinges.
Arianne spun away from her study of the room, prepared to order a sweet-meade—equal parts procrastination and liquid courage. Her jaw dropped when she saw the barkeep.
“Can I get you something to drink, miss?” he asked.
She tried to form words, tried to get her jaw to do anything but hang there limp like a willow branch.
“Hey,” the man—tall and lean, with dark hair, bright blue eyes, and skin the exact tawny shade of Arianne’s—cocked his head to the side, “are you okay?”
Tears filled her eyes. She finally managed to draw in enough breath to whisper, “Daddy?”
His eyes widened and he leaned back, arms raised in a defensive gesture. “Whoa, miss, I think you’re confusing me with someone else.”
Was she wrong? The details all fit. He was the right age, had all the right features. And those eyes… Arianne would never forget the way his eyes would glow when he read her to sleep at night.
No, there was no mistaking the man before her was her father.
Perhaps the madness taken his identity from him.
“What is your name?” she asked.
He frowned. “Everyone calls me Keep.”
She smiled tightly. “I mean your given name.”
He picked up a glass and started wiping it with a thin cotton towel. “Couldn’t say.”
“Why not?” Arianne pressed.
He set the clean glass aside and started on another. “Can’t remember.”
“Then how can you know that I’m not your daughter?”
After setting the second glass beside the first, he said, “Wouldn’t I remember having a daughter?”
Arianne’s heart cracked. He truly did not remember—not her, not Callie, not even himself. But she could see the ache in him, the longing that maybe he did not even understand. He might not remember his past, but he wanted to.
She reached across the bar and wrapped her hand over his wrist.
“I know who you are,” she whispered. “Come with me.”
He looked at her for several long, painful seconds before saying, “Can’t leave during happy hour. This place will be bustling for the next four hours.”
They didn’t have time for this.
“This can’t wait,” she insisted.
He started to respond, opened his mouth to tell her again why he couldn’t go. She didn’t give him the chance.
“Now, Callie.”
Arianne barely had time to register the stunned look on his face before the bright light flashed around them.
Chapter 16
The light faded and they were in the glade. Arianne still felt her father’s wrist held tightly in her grip. There was no possibility of letting go, not now that she’d found him after so long. Well, not now that Callie had found him.
Her eyes recovered from the light, and Arianne saw Callie standing before her. Before them.
Her sister looked hesitant. Worried. The same kind of terrified and thrilled Arianne had felt before entering the Black Dove. The same kind of desperate longing she had seen in Drustan’s unremembering eyes. A look that said they had been parted for far too long.
“What just happened?” Drustan demanded, his voice gruff with confusion.
“Father,” Callie exclaimed, and flung her arms around him. “I have missed you so.”
The look of confusion in the long lost king’s eyes only deepened. Arianne winced as Drustan wrapped a hand around each of Callie’s forearms and pulled himself out of her embrace.
“Will someone please tell me what the Everdark is going on?” he asked.
Callie’s gaze flashed to Arianne’s.
“He doesn’t remember?” Callie whispered.
Arianne shook her head slowly. Her heart ached for the memory of him. For the decade of longing, hoping, waiting until he returned. For knowing that Callie had felt the same aching. And now that he was right before their eyes, finally, after all of these years, it was as if he wasn’t really there at all.
Still, a shadow of her father was better than none. Arianne would take what she could get.
Callie’s jaw tightened. “I can make him.”
“Make me what?” Drustan demanded.
“Is it safe?” Arianne asked her.
Callie answered neither question. She lifted her hands to his temples and before he could so much as blink, a soft glow surround his head and he became quite still. It was as if he were instantly frozen in place—like the welcoming her sister had given Tearloch when he burst into the glade, but locked in thin air instead of ice.
Where was Tearloch? She had not seen him since she returned.
She glanced away to make sure he was still there, then smiled when she saw him at Callie’s hut, working to put some of the fallen boards back in place.
When she turned back to her family—her family—they were still silent and unmoving. The glow around Drustan’s head had grown, expanded until it encompassed both father and daughter.
“Callie?” Arianne asked, half in awe and half concerned.
When they were children, Arianne had seen only glimpses of Callie’s unnatural power. Sweets appearing out of thin air. A rabbit made to talk. Dancing candles in their nursery.
Nothing like this.
This was true power. Unrestrained. Instinct urged Arianne to take a step back, to fear this unnatural power so at odds with her own, but she remained rooted to the spot. Forced herself to stand and watch.
The pair seemed chiseled from stone, unmoving as Callie stared fiercely into their father’s eyes. As Drustan stared blankly back. Arianne felt like an intruder.
After what felt like an eternity, he finally blinked.
Callie lowered her hands.
His brow crinkled in confusion, his eyes cloudy. Arianne held her breath. Waiting for some sign of the result. Had it worked? What if it hadn’t? What if it had, in fact, done more damage to his already faltering memory? What if?
There was no point in asking that question now. They could only wait… and hope.
Drustan looked first at Callie, then at Arianne, then back at Callie.
A single tear fell from his eye.
“Callistra?” he whispered, his voice rough and weak, as though he had been walking all those years through a desert. “Arianne?”
Arianne wanted to cry with relief.
“Father,” she gasped, and flung her arms around his waist.
She felt Callie’s arms reach around him from the other side, engulfing Arianne in the same hug. Drustan’s arms came around their shoulders and Arianne wanted to sob with relief. In an instant, she was that little girl once more. Small and scared, but safe in her father’s embrace. She had the most wonderful feeling that, with their family reunited, everything would be all right.
“My girls,” he said, almost like a prayer to Great Morrigan.
Arianne could not say how long they stood their, simply holding each other.
It was the sound of hammering that finally broke the joyful trance, the sound of whatever work Tearloch was doing to busy himself while the family reunited.
Arianne smiled as she leaned back so she could see her father’s face without leaving the comfort of his embrace. “What do you remember?”
The frown returned. “I re—“ He shook his head. “Until this moment, I remembered only the events of the last two years. I recall waking in the forest outside of the tavern. I had no memory of life before that moment. The proprietor said he did not recognize me, but offered me food and shelter if I served behind the bar.”
“Two years???
? Arianne whispered.
He had been gone almost ten. No, ten exactly, as Callie had said.
“And now?” Callie asked.
“I remember you.” He squeezed his daughters closer still. “I remember my queen’s death, my overwhelming grief, and then my Callie’s disappearance.”
Callie sobbed and burrowed tighter into their father’s neck.
“I sought solace,” he recounted, “ventured to the queen’s grave to seek her advice. And then…”
The pained look on his face brought new tears to Arianne’s eyes. She lifted her fingers to his cheeks and wiped them away.
“I remember nothing else. Between my walk to the graveyard and my waking in the forest…” He shook his head. “Nothing.”
There were eight years missing from his memory. Eight years that even Callie’s magic had not been able to uncover. Would they ever?
“We will fix it,” Callie insisted, but her voice trembled as though she were not nearly so confident as she wished to be. “With time, I can focus my powers more specifically on the missing years.” She wiped at her nose. “You will remember.”
Despite her sister’s own doubt, Arianne believed in her. Callie was nothing if not strong-willed. She could not have survived this long on her own otherwise.
Arianne sensed a movement at her side, and turned to see Tearloch standing directly behind her. His face was carefully blank. Not expectant or impatient, but vaguely curious.
He understood the enormity of the moment for her and he did not want to interfere.
But she had to remember her obligations. She had not made this journey alone, and her goals were not the only pursuit. Still, she thought her sister deserved a little more time before the real world returned.
Arianne turned back to her family, gave them one more tight squeeze, and then pulled herself out of the hug. She stepped away a few feet, just enough to give Callie and Drustan some space, and was pleased when Tearloch followed.
“A happy family reunion?” he asked, his voice gentle.
Arianne looked at him, unashamed of the happy tears filling her eyes.
“I cannot believe he is real,” she said. “Is he really here?”
Tearloch placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and she almost thought he held himself back from doing more.
“Does he have answers for you?” he asked.
“Very few. He remembers leaving the castle, to visit my mother’s grave, and then…” She shook her head. “He woke up in the forest with no memory of himself or anything before that moment.”
“But your sister helped him,” Tearloch said. “He remembers now?”
“Only until the time of his disappearance,” she explained. “But still nothing between leaving the castle and waking up in the forest. What could have happened?”
Tearloch shrugged and gave her a rueful smile, clearly as much at a loss as she was.
Arianne could imagine any number of terrible things, from an accident that resulted in his amnesia to a violent attack to some kind of magic. And still, what had happened during those missing years? Would they ever know?
She shook her head, knowing that there were other priorities at the moment.
For right now, she would just have to have faith that they would eventually learn the truth. For right now, she needed to ask Callie for the information Tearloch sought.
With Tearloch at her side, she walked back over to her father and sister. Each beamed at her like she was the brightest star in the sky.
Her returning smile must have been just as bright.
“King Drustan.” Tearloch bowed his head in respect. “It is an honor to meet your highness.”
Drustan kept his right arm wrapped around Callie’s shoulders and lifted his left to hug Arianne in just as close.
“Are you…” The king trailed off, as if unsure how to word his question.
“Father, this is Tearloch Donne,” Arianne supplied. “Of the clan Moraine. He guided me on this journey to find Callie, and therefor to find you.”
“Thank you,” Drustan said, his voice tight with emotion, his cheeks pink and wet as he released Callie to offer Tearloch his hand. “Words cannot express my gratitude.”
“A service many years overdue,” Tearloch replied, shaking the king’s hand. “And I will be honored to serve as the guide for you all on our return.”
On our return. Arianne did not think she could get happier. Finally her father could return to their home. To the palace. To the throne.
Though Arianne had never resented her position or the duty thrust onto her, she would gladly hand the same back to her father. Especially if it meant having him home.
Drustan’s face shadowed. “I-I’m not sure,” he stammered. “It has been so many years…”
“We should wait,” Callie said. “At least until I have been able to work more on recovering his memories.”
“No,” Arianne cried.
“I will be able to work more quickly in isolation,” Callie explained. “Returning to the chaos of the palace will only make the recovery more difficult.”
“Until more of my memory returns,” Drustan said, “it is better that I am not on the throne. There may be secrets in my past that put the clan at risk.”
Arianne nodded. He was right. She knew he was right. The mystery of his missing years could have repercussions for their clan, and she trusted his judgment to believe that they were safer if his memories were in tact.
And if delaying his return made him stronger, made him feel whole, she would give him all the time he needed.
She hugged herself tighter to her father’s side. “The palace will be ready for your return.”
“In the meantime,” Callie said, extending a hand to Tearloch, “here is the information you seek.”
Tearloch reached out and took the square of parchment from Callie’s outstretched hand. He unfolded it, frowned, and then looked at her. “You are certain?”
She nodded.
“I thank you,” he said, slipping the note into the pocket of his shirt.
There was something in the grim set of his jaw, the dark look in his eyes that said the information Callie gave him had been far worse than he anticipated. Arianne instinctively moved closer to his side.
Smiling, Callie turned her attention to her sister. “It is time for you to return home,” she said. “With the promise that the curse is broken and that your father and sister will soon join you there.”
Arianne wanted nothing more than to stay there with them—with her family—in this secluded glade, protected from the dangers and duties of her normal life, forever. But she also knew that was not possible. She needed to make sure relations with the Moraine were restored. She had countless duties carry out, hers to fulfill until her father returned. Her people needed a leader and news of the promised return of their beloved king would do wonders for clan morale. With the curse lifted, perhaps they could finally return to the life they once lived.
She forced a smile. “The palace will be thrilled by this news.”
“We shall follow soon,” Drustan promised.
They nodded. After one more tearful hug, Callie nodded at Tearloch and told Arianne, “Take his hand.”
She did, and the flash of light followed immediately after.
Chapter 17
“Not sure I could ever get used to that means of travel,” Tearloch said as he steadied Arianne.
The witch had returned them in the forest, not far from the Moraine palace.
The princess smiled. “I am not sad to have bypassed our campsite on the return trip.”
Tearloch laughed. “Nor I.”
If he were being honest, he would have gladly taken the long route home if it meant spending additional time with her. What he wouldn’t have given for just a few minutes more in her company.
But their quest was complete, he had the location of the traitor, and the princess would return home to her palace. Where she belonged. Where she would rule. Where s
he would one day, as tradition dictated, wed a royal.
Tearloch studied her. He couldn’t help himself.
Her face tilted down and she seemed to study her hands.
“So,” she said slowly, as if she too were stalling for time, “I suppose there is no reason for me to go inside with you.”
“No. You should return to your palace.” He realized he was still holding her hand. Which meant she was still holding his. He did not let go. “I’m sure your people are worried.”
He could not tear his gaze away from their entwined hands. It was madness, folly to even think he might stand a chance with one as elevated as Arianne. That a humble soldier could aspire to win her heart.
But his own heart did not seem to heed the warning.
“Yes,” she said, her voice a mere whisper, “I am eager to tell them curse has been lifted.”
When she started to pull away, he held her fingers tighter.
“Tearloch?”
“It was I,” he said, finally lifting his gaze to meet hers.
“You?” A thin crease formed between her brows. “What was you?”
His gaze dipped to her throat, to the slim silver chain peeking out above her sweater.
“The fox,” he said, staring at the spot where he knew the silver pendant to be hanging still—just above her heart. “I was the boy in the maze. I gave you the fox.”
She pulled one hand free from his, lifted it to his face.
His breath caught. His now-free hand fell to his side.
Her fingers caressed his cheek.
He leaned into her touch. Met her steady gaze.
She lifted up on her toes. Whispered, “How I hoped it was you,” a breath before she pressed her lips to his.
Her lips were warm and soft. Gentle. Tentative.
It took all his willpower not to crush her to him. Instead, he closed his eyes and focused his every thought on the searing connection.
When she lowered back to her heels, he forced himself not to follow her with his mouth. One kiss did not a promise make.