Page 203 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

Pulling my eyes from the elf, I smile at Tor, draw the cloak tighter around myself, and look at the chief. “What do you know about the block?”

“Not much, I’m afraid.” He looks genuinely apologetic as he speaks, but my heart still drops in disappointment.

“One of my gifts is supposed to be spell breaking,” I comment in frustration, looking around the group for answers. “If it is magic that’s holding my memories, then why haven’t I been able to break the spell?” They’re all quiet for a moment, but I don’t ask them what I’m really thinking, the questions that are burning a hole inside me. What if I’m just broken? What if my memories are never coming back? Both Tor and Vaeril are staring at me, their gazes intense, so I know they must have heard me through our bond.

“Your gift is goddess given,” Tor begins, stepping closer, grazing my cheek gently with his fingers. “We don’t know when she blessed you with it. Your memories might have already been taken before you were gifted.” His reasoning makes sense, and I realise I’ve instinctively been leaning into his touch for comfort. Aware of everyone watching us, especially a scowling Eldrin, I take a small step away, trying to ignore the pang in my chest at Tor’s disappointed expression.

“There were signs you were special as a child,” Chief Arne shares, frowning as he thinks back, and I remember he must have known me as a youth. That strange discomfort passes over me again, like I should know more than I do, but I push it aside. “Unfortunately, we had no way to test anything like that. We only go off of what the gods and goddesses show us. Speak withVida, she can explain our religion better, and she may have more answers.”

Nodding, I make a note to speak with the tribeswoman, but I just can’t shake something Tor said from my mind. Replaying the words again, I frown and turn back to him. “Tor, you said my memories might have been taken.” His expression is a neutral mask, but we’re bonded now, and he can’t hide from me anymore. “Do you think they might have wiped my memories completely?” I try to keep my voice steady, but the prospect of never regaining them hits me hard. “Is that why I can’t break the spell? Because there isn’t a spell left to break?”

Taking me by the shoulders, Tor scans my face, his mien serious. “It’s a possibility.” I’m grateful he doesn’t try to sugarcoat it or talk circles around the question, but the answer still hits me in the stomach like a physical blow. Blinking to clear my eyes of unshed tears, I nod. “But if this block is related to your abilities and your memories, you just managed to access your speed when you were fighting. Don’t give up yet, Clarissa.”

I know he’s right, I shouldn’t write it off yet, but I can’t shake the feeling that my memories are going to be much harder to access than my fae abilities. Straightening my shoulders, I smile and shrug. “I’ve lived this long without memories. I can survive without them.” I try to brush it off, and I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince, my friends or myself, but seeing their expressions, I’m not sure I’ve managed it. Even Naril is looking at me with sympathy, which I hate. Having all of them staring at me like that just makes me angry.

“I think the barrier she describes is one she’s constructed herself, not magic holding her memories,” Eldrin calls out, breaking the silence. When everyone turns to gape at the scarred elf, I feel like I can finally breathe. I sense his eyes on me, and I know he’s pulled the attention onto himself on purpose. Wemay not share a bond, but he felt me drowning and threw me a lifeline.

The others are talking, their voices low. I need to focus on what they’re saying, so I take slow, calming breaths and turn my attention back to Eldrin.

“I saw her do this a couple of times before when we were training,” he replies, answering a question the chief just asked, his arms crossed over his chest as he speaks. “Think about it, she was a slave. Even without any magical abilities, her fae speed and strength would have given her away and made her stand out. That’s the last thing she would have wanted, it would have gotten her killed.” He’s trying not to look in my direction, but as I take a few steps closer, his eyes seem to be reluctantly drawn to me. “I think she constructed some sort of barrier, pushing everything different about herself behind it, and when she was in trouble or scared, it would slip, allowing her to use her speed or strength to save herself.”

What he says makes sense. Memories from when I was a slave at the farms fill my mind. I was almost crushed by a cascade of falling barrels in one of the barns. We had been stacking the barrels of grain that were ready to be transported to Arhaven when the barrels at the top had suddenly fallen, crushing us. Somehow, I managed to protect myself, the others hadn’t been so lucky. Six slaves died that day, I was the only one of the group to survive. That hasn’t been the only occasion I’ve managed to survive something I shouldn’t have.

If Eldrin is right and this barrier is something of my own making, then my memories really could be lost.If it’s magic that took your memories, you need to speak to Grayson, I tell myself, my chest throbbing where his bond sits. It’s getting harder to be away from him for so long, but as if he knows I’m thinking of him, a wave of love washes over me, calming me.

“But what do I know?” Eldrin’s scoffs, and when I look up, I see he’s staring directly at me. There’s a challenge in his gaze which just confuses me. What does he want from me?

“You could be right.” Vaeril steps in, feeling my frustration and confusion. Looking between the two of us, he frowns before turning to the chief. “Both suggestions should be considered.”

Chief Arne nods in agreement and walks to my side, looking at Tor with a raised eyebrow until the tribesman moves back to allow the chief closer. Clapping me on the shoulder, he smiles down at me. “Clarissa, good start today.” His expression becomes more serious, and I know what he’s going to say. I start nodding in agreement before he’s even speaking. “However, you need a lot more training—”

“I’ll help,” Tor offers instantly, and I hear Naril’s snort of amusement.

“I don’t think he means that sort of training,” Naril remarks, chortling. Scowling, I look over just in time to catch Vaeril smacking him on the back of the head. Now it’s my turn to smirk.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” Shaking his head, Chief Arne frowns at Tor. “No, you’re too close to this. If it makes you feel better, I will oversee Clarissa’s training while we are still here. I will find her the best instructor from our tribe.”

While we are still here.

It’s not really been discussed, but there’s a huge question mark about what will happen after the war. Although I’m now a member of the tribes, Chief Arne doesn’t expect me to travel back with them afterward. It was one of the reasons his tribe was chosen for me to join—it gives me the freedom to do what I need to. I want to accept my tribal heritage, but I refuse to forget my fae side. I already miss the elves and the forest. Anxiety makes my chest tight as I think of the unknown. There is so much about all this we don’t know. But the chief is right—I do need to train and get as strong as I can if I’m going to survive this.

“Thank you,” I say gratefully. I may be new here, but even I know that having the chief of the tribe directly involved in my training is an honour. Arne looks startled by my gratitude for a moment, as if not expecting it, but his expression soon softens.

“Return here tomorrow, and we will begin your training. Now that I know your capabilities, I can find you a trainer,” he instructs before nodding once towards Tor and turning to leave.

“Eldrin should be involved in Clarissa’s training too. He can help with accessing her fae abilities,” Naril suggests, and the chief pauses to look at him with a raised eyebrow. The elf holds his ground and gestures towards his scowling brother. “He worked with her in Galandell, he already knows how she responds to different training methods.”

“Naril,” Eldrin bites out, clearly unhappy with the way the conversation has turned, but the chief has clearly heard enough.

“Then it’s agreed, you will work alongside us to assist Clarissa in her…elf training.” The chief stumbles over the phrasing, but from the slight smile on his lips, I get the impression he’s enjoying the fact it’s pissing Eldrin off. When there’s no further complaints, he nods and turns, making his way to the main path, and I know he’ll be heading to the meeting place where he’ll report back to my aunt on my progress.

“So,” I start awkwardly, facing the glaring golden-eyed elf. “You’re going to be my teacher again.” I probably could have tried to sound more enthusiastic, but his expression looks just as pained. Tor snorts at my side, amused, and even the corner of Vaeril’s lips is twitching as he watches us.

“Apparently so,” he mutters dryly, his eyes narrowing on me. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.” His gaze travels along my body, making me bristle, but I don’t say anything, knowing that’s exactly what he’s looking for. Tor grumbles low in his throat, my usually laid-back mate still struggling against the grip of thebond. Eldrin smirks at him before his eyes flick back to mine, but there’s no real humour in them. “We may as well start now.”

“Eldrin—”Vaeril calls out, but Eldrin cuts him off as he stalks closer to me, stopping only when he’s an arm’s length away.

“Do you trust me or not?” There’s a challenge in his voice, and I know it has to do with what I said last night, that there would always be a place for him at my side. For that to be true, I have to trust him. The bastard is twisting my words around, and he knows it. Everyone is silent as we stare at each other, the atmosphere growing tense as they wait for my answer. Raising an eyebrow, Eldrin gestures towards me with a ‘well?’ movement that has me gritting my teeth.

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