Page 52 of Terragnata and the Heir of the Earth

I flinched at the wordmemories,a small inner voice reminding me how my memories had been altered before. And the unanswered question of how I’d not remembered who Cas was lingered in my mind, as well as who my birth mother was, hell, whoIwas. How had memories of my sire come back flowing freely, but the rest evaded me like eels in a pool? I didn’t know which memories to trust anymore and nearly doubted the reality of my life in Argention. But Gia was here, standing in front of me. Surely, those years were real.They had to be, didn’t they?

I let out a slow breath, attempting to quell the budding nausea swirling in my belly. Realization set in, ringing clear in my mind. I’d have to find the truth on my own. I could trust no one, not even Gia. For her memories, her thoughts—just like mine—could have been altered by Fayzien. Or someone else.

I eyed Gia. “He never touched you? Never harmed you when you traveled with him?”

“Fayzien? No, of course not. He was very gentle, actually. Portaling while pregnant isquiteheart-burn inducing,” she replied.

“Did you both portal all the way back here?” I asked.

“Yes, after about two weeks of riding around looking for you. He said one of his scouts had found you, but you were a prisoner of a large group of rebels. I begged to come with him to find you, but he said there could be a battle and that, as a pregnant human, I would be in grave danger. So he took me here and promised he would bring you back safely. He kept to his word, Terra,” Gia said gingerly. “For here you are, safe and unharmed, in front of me, though dressed in a way I thought I would never see.” She giggled at her last words, and I giggled, too.

I softened. “I look ridiculous, don’t I?” I shook my head. “This is what a princess should look like, according to my handmaid.”

Gia chuckled again. “My dear, you’re dressed like you could make other females pregnant just bylookingat you. Thank goodness I’m already with child, so I will be in no danger of spontaneous conception,” she said, finishing the joke with a wink.

I laughed once more and squeezed her hand. “Gia, I feel there are things we both have not been told, truths that have been withheld from us. Something isn’t right about these creatures, they deceive. But promise me this; trust in me. I will find the truth about my family’s murder. I will seek justice for them, for Danson.”

At this, she nodded in agreement, but I sensed her holding something back. I gave her hand another squeeze. “All right, time to get to work.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

OLD FLAME

Ileft Gia’s room to find Olea waiting outside the door. I wondered, not for the first time, who she reported to.

“Me lady, ye canna delay longer. Ets time for ye te see yer future husband.”

An image of Ezren’s face flashed in my mind, and I squeezed my eyes closed and opened them again as if it would make the picture disappear. It did little to quell the turmoil of emotion his face conjured—rage, longing, hurt. His lack of honesty might not have been a true betrayal, but it felt so. Like I could no longer trust him.

But any confrontation with Ezren would have to wait. Olea led me down more twisting stone hallways until we reached the grand staircase of the castle. It opened to a large foyer, and I marveled at how the space triggered memories of life in Valfalla. Clear as day, I could see Cas chasing me for a pastry I stole from his plate. I could see my father instructing me to be still as we stood in the foyer, receiving distinguished guests alongside the king. I could see a white-haired girl pinching me as we walked to our lessons, making me turn back and stick out my tongue to her—an action that earned me the stick.

Before I could lose myself in recall, Olea led me outside. The crisp air was ecstasy on my skin. Cool, but not cold, and full of salt and sea. I sucked in a deep breath, the smell triggering even more familiarity and nostalgia. It grounded my fresh childhood memories, making them more vivid and feelreal.

We made our way around the side of the castle to a large, pale stone patio that jutted out of the palace onto a rock cliff.A training ground.The roiling sea provided a stark backdrop for two Fae in the middle of an artful duel, both wearing practice masks. Groups of courtiers gathered around watching the spectacle, most of them female. Anxiety coiled in my belly as we approached them, for I knew their shrewd glances would pick me over. The Fae continued sparring. When we drew closer, the taller one lifted his palm in the air, and his opponent halted. The crowd fell silent and followed his gaze, which landed on me.

He strode over to meet us, and my breath quickened. I was an image of red chiffon whipping in the wind, set against a picture of pale palace stone and an unlimited ocean horizon. The prince removed his training mask, letting his jet-black hair fall around his face, no longer pulled back at the base of his neck. When we were fifty feet away from each other, I could no longer stand it. I kicked off the stupid slippers Olea forced me into, and ran towards him. He did the same, lifting me up in his familiar but unfamiliar arms, twirling me around with one forearm on my waist and one hand tangled in my now wild blonde hair.

His scent hit me first—almost exactly like I remembered, but more grown, more masculine. A musky cinnamon and clove, indicating he still carried a fondness for the spice-filled soaps he’d loved as a boy. And when he pulled me in close, I felt the oddest sense of comfort, like I’d come home. Experiencing that feeling in the arms of someone who would have been a stranger to me just days ago—days I was in the arms of another—felt… bizarre. It made me question the realness of the moment, ofevery moment before it. I winced at my lack of trust in reality, praying my reaction was not perceivable.

He set me down and cupped my face in his palms, his thumbs rubbing back and forth on my cheeks. “Mi karus,” he breathed, and I smiled at the use of his old pet name for me. “I have thought about this moment every day for seven years. I nearly lost hope.” He shuttered his eyes and pressed his forehead to mine, pulling me into him once more. He re-opened his eyes and ran them down my body. “You are no longer the little warrior I remember,” he said, a mischievous smile forming on his face.

I blushed, which made him burst into a deep chuckle. “But still equally shy with compliments, I see,” he teased.

I met his eyes. “Youare no longer just a little Fae boy, leaving me purple-stoned trinkets as love tokens,” I shot back, the familiar banter returning to us.

This sent his smile wider, and his eyes shone, no doubt pleased I remembered such a detail. They were just as I recalled, shimmering gold rims around deep purple irises—streaked with flecks of something that recalled stars. He turned and faced the crowd, which had grown larger during our embrace.

“Fellow Viri, as you have discovered by now, my childhood friend and companion, Princess Terragnata of Nebbiolo, has been returned to us!” he bellowed. Cheering erupted from many, but not all. A few courtiers leered at me with narrowed eyes.

“I plan to uphold a promise I made to her many years ago,” he continued. He turned to me and removed something from his breast pocket: a sizable, roughly cut tanzanite gem set on a thin gold band. I had never seen a jewel so captivating; it looked like a bright evening sky decorated with a thousand sparkling stars. He knelt, and I froze, aware of the many eyes searing my skin.

I didn’t hear what he said next. I just remained still as he lifted my left hand and slid the ring on my finger, a perfect fit. More cheering ensued, but I couldn’t hear it over the poundingin my ears. He turned to lead me back to the castle, my arm linked to his. As we made our way, my eyes brushed over a small set of windows at the base of the stone place. Silver bars covered the openings, and I swore I saw a flash of green from behind them.

Cas ledme into a small sitting room. My mind reeled from the display—from the shock of it, for one, and from the singeing thought that a certain Fae warrior witnessed it.

He placed a glass of amber liquid in my hand, and I stared into it.

“Drink,” he commanded. “You look like you need it.”

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