Page 10 of Fated to the Grumpy Dragon
“Yes.”
She shook her head, then winced. “Why would I do something like that? I’d like to go home, please.”
“I would assume you did it for the same reason the other women did.”
“Other women?”
“Eight of you,” I explained. “You volunteered to come here, to live with us. To help end the war between my people and yours.”
“War?” she squeaked, her pale pink lips curling inward into a flat line.
“Yes.”
Emma crossed her arms under her chest in a distinctly uncomfortable manner. I watched, waiting for her reaction and what she would do next. I could not decipher if she was being truthful or not about the lack of memory.
I should never have let the sovereign talk me into this.
Had I let her talk me into it? Was this a mission as she’d said? Or was it, as I was beginning to suspect, a sort of punishment fornot succeeding in the mission she’d given me at the onset of the war. That would make much more sense.
“I don’t believe you,” she said.
“Okay.”
She glared at me.
“I’m not here to convince you. If you want to stop pretending, we can continue on. Or you can keep this up, and we can play all sorts of games.”
“What makes you think I’m pretending … whoever you are?” she asked with a sniff.
“My name is Rhyse,” I said. “And I think you’re pretending because we’ve been talking for nearly an hour already. I think you decided you’d made a bad decision and are hoping this memory loss thing is your ticket out of here.”
“I don’t remember!” she shouted.
I rolled my eyes. Maybe giving in to her would help make time go by faster. “Fine. Let’s see what youdoremember. What do you think today is?”
She told me.
“So, you’re missing nearly nine months, then. Fall, winter, most of spring. Just gone from your head.”
“I …” She looked queasy, and her legs wobbled unsteadily.
In a flash, I closed the distance, helping her down. She truly did look green in the cheeks.
“Nine months,” she whispered. “Where did my life go?”
I wasn’t sure I could discount her as lying. It was becoming too realistic.
“Yes,” I said. “You must have bumped your head at some point before you came here. Before I saw you. I don’t know why its only affecting younow, though. That part I can’t explain.”
“Bumped my head?” She frowns. “Maybe.”
“Run your fingers over your head. Gently. Maybe there’s a mark.”
She did that, pushing her fingers slowly through the tangles of blonde hair that fell in natural soft curls. I admired the way the hair color complimented her light skin, a stark contrast to my permanent tan.
“Ow.” A look of pain filled her face as she touched behind her left ear.
“Let me see,” I said, gently parting the hair with a whistle.
