Page 59 of Revenge of the Forgotten

Vega took a sip and chuckled once she swallowed. “So is popping my favorite bottle of wine on the date of my first death.”

“Touché.” Khort’s laugh was light, though his eyes showed the lingering sadness behind his gaze.

“You said you remember the night I wore this?” Vega gestured to the dress she was still wearing. “What was it for?” Vega still asked questions, even though she’d be getting all those memories back soon.

Khort looked like he didn’t want to answer, taking a long sip of his wine. But whatever he saw on Vega’s face when he looked up made him sigh. Vega didn’t take her eyes off him.

“You wore it the night your sister started her attack on the Curia. The night she’d been inducted and took over your mother’s seat,” Khort admitted while his eyes dragged from the bottom of the dress, lapping up her exposed leg draped over the side of the chair. His gaze made it to hers, and Vega did her best to hide the feeling that boiled inside her—his stare felt like a heater, scorching every inch of skin.

Vega wasn’t drunk enough to blame it on the wine yet. She licked her lips and focused back on the conversation, not Khort’s wandering eyes. “Were you there?” she asked as he ran a hand through his shoulder-length hair. It was down today, freshly washed and still damp at the ends.

“Of course. The four of us were inseparable at that time.” Khort showed zero emotion.

“So you two were friends?” Vega asked, pushing for more information. Everyone liked to dance around the topic of the man who broke her heart.

“Eventually. It took some time with us,” Khort answered as he finished his first glass. When he moved to get up, Vega placed her hand on his chest.

“I’ll get it.” She popped up and moved to the bottle. The glass in her hand was still half full. Vega’s attention had been on Khort and not the wine while he talked. She topped hers anyway after filling Khort’s glass. “Why?” she pushed, putting the bottle down within her reach before she settled back into her place on the arm of the chair.

Right now, hearing stories of her life felt like just that: a story. Something she didn’t have to believe but chose to dive into anyway. Her memories were the stories that kept her moving across the country with Arlet, but anytime she’d asked about Khort, Arlet gave her the bare minimum.

It was time he got the chance to tell her what Arlet wouldn’t.

Khort hesitated, choosing his words wisely. “I lived in a fantasy world before he came into the picture.”

Vega rolled her eyes. “This is all a fantasy world to me right now.” She chuckled, brushing her hand against his arm as she spoke. Khort stiffened but quickly settled into her touch. Vega watched his eyebrows twitch as his hand fluttered above her exposed thigh before finally settling down. His touch didn’t feel odd or misplaced—it had the opposite effect on Vega, comforting her.

“Why do I feel like you’re trying to tell me that he got the girl?”

“Because he did,” Khort answered quickly.

“Oh.” Vega was joking, and Khort’s response made this conversation a little more serious than she intended. “Khort, I-I don’t—” Vega stammered.

“Stop. We don’t have to get into this.” He squeezed her thigh before returning his hand to his little bubble.

Vega felt an emptiness in her chest when his hand left her leg. “You have to let me make my own decisions. I know you’re trying to protect me. You have serious golden retriever energy.”

Khort’s eyebrows creased. “What’s a golden retr?—”

Vega interrupted him before he could finish. “Shit, forgot about the whole different world thing. A dog. You know what a dog is, right?”

“Yes, Vega… I know what a dog is.” His badgered tone was enough to make Vega smile cheekily as an apology. “I just meant that we don’t need to get into this before you get your memories back. There’s more to this than I have time for,” Khort said.

More to this.

What did their shared past look like? Vega glanced down at the dress, finally noticing the shorter sleeve on her right side. “I wore this when I summoned Remus, huh?” Vega changed the subject, willing to give Khort the space from this conversation he needed. For now.

“Yeah, it was in better condition before that. We danced all night long under the moonlight. Your parents knew how to throw a party.”

Vega offered him a smile as she asked, “Will you tell me about it?”

“It doesn’t have a happy ending.” His tone was laced with warning.

“That’s okay. Sometimes the best stories don’t end how we want them to.”

Khort met her eyes, and Vega did her best to keep her expression soft, understanding. He nodded and drew in a breath before starting off the story.

Vega closed her eyes and leaned away from Khort, her back resting against the wall beside the chair. If she concentrated, Vega could pretend she was there—that she remembered.

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