Page 101 of Prince of the Northwest Forest
No one pays me any attention.
“Excuse me,” I say a little louder. “I’m here to retrieve my memory. Can someone please send me on my way to where I can just, you know, pick it up?”
The dancing doesn’t stop. No one even looks at me.
Fucking firecats.
I put two fingers to my lips and let out a sharp whistle, like someone in the crowd at a ball game.
Silence falls. Well, shit. That worked. All eyes are now on me.
I raise a hand in a wave. “Hey, hi. I’m Justice. One of you fae stole a memory from me, and I’d like you to give it back.”
“How do you know that’s what happened?” says a fae with gossamer wings.
HowdoI know? “Someone told me that if I couldn’t remember something, and a sentimental object was missing, it was most likely that a fae took them.”
“And you believed them?”
I shrug. “If it’s true, then you need to return them.”
“Why would we do that?”
“Because it’s wrong to take other people’s things,” I say. Though I suppose I shouldn’t expect the fae to play by human rules.
She clucks. “But they’re our things now.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. I’ve already come this far. I might as well find out what the proposed bargain would be. “What do I have to do to get my memory back?”
“Are you willing to bargain, Justice Laurel?” a male voice behind me asks. A presence looms up, and I turn to peer at him. He’s taken the form of a cute man about my age, with shaggy brown hair and purple eyes. He’s wearing a green tunic over tan breeches and looks vaguely like Peter Pan.
This is Keithen, the fae who stole my memory.
“You,” I hiss. “Where’s a sword when I need one?” Not that I know how to wield a sword.
“Is that a way to treat an old friend?” the fae asks.
“You aren’t a friend.”
He smiles. “Have you missed me, Justice?”
“You know I haven’t,” I snap. “You’re the one who stole my memory and made me feel betrayed, uncertain, and violated … for years.” Anger heats my skin like lava from Mount Pátu.
Keithen waves a hand. “Trivialities.”
“My memories arenottrivial. They were important enough to you that you wanted them, and they’re important enough to me that I’m here to get them back,” I say firmly. “And you need to take me to wherever they are.”
“No.”
“What do I need to do to get them back?” How far am I willing to go?
Apparently pretty far, since I’m here.
Keithen seems to be watching my mental calculations. “Someone made a deal with us to take your memories, only they didn’t fulfill their side of the bargain.”
I scrunch my eyebrows together. “That’s not an answer. What are you talking about?”
He grins. “Oh, nothing, nothing.”
