The mention of his mother sparked my curiosity. What was she like? What kind of woman had raised this complicated monster?
“Is your mother in Galaythia?”
“No. She’s dead.” The answer came flat, all emotion scoured from his voice, his face a perfect mask. But his fingers curled protectively over the notebook for the briefest moment before withdrawing.
Sometimes, subtle actions gave away more emotion than you wanted to show. In that careful blankness, I saw oceans of grief.
Wolfe had no living parents. Maybe that's why he was so wretched. And it couldn't be easy sitting here in front of me, the daughter of his villain, a constant reminder of the pain my blood had caused.
For just a moment something impossibly fragile pass between us. Not forgiveness, not even understanding, but recognition. It felt like the light of understanding shared between two people bound by a fate neither had chosen.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I offered, impliedly expressing my sorrow for his
father, too. A muscle ticked in his jaw, betraying the careful control he maintained.
“Thank you.” At least he didn’t look like he hated me. He glanced back at the notebook and placed his focus there as if we hadn’t been talking about his mother.
“Do what you usually do on your resets. If you run out of space, there are more notebooks where that came from.”
“Thanks. I tend to write a lot, so I usually fill one journal per reset.” I had a feeling this time there would be a hell of a lot to record. Who knew what could happen to me in the magical realm.
“Do you read all of them?”
“Pretty much. On the first day of the reset—once I’ve calmed down—my grandmother hands me my journals and the ones she keeps for me. I spend the day reading backwards. Most recent memories first.” I drew in a gentle breath.
“Sometimes I start with hers, because she records my last moments before the reset and how the curse takes me.”
“How does it take you?” He seemed genuinely curious.
“My mind goes right back to Gryffyn Forest, as if I’m there again watching my father being swallowed by the vortex. Everynew memory vanishes even if it happened seconds before. Then it knocks me out. Sometimes my grandmother puts me to sleep, so it’s less stressful, but I still wake once the curse takes effect.”
“Let’s hope we get the ring back before then.”
“I truly hope so.” Vulnerability cracked my voice. “I don’t know what I’ll be like when my memory resets.”
“We’ll worry about that when we have to.” His jaw tightened.
“What are you going to do with me after you get the ring back?” That felt like the question of my life and I waited with baited breath for his answer.
Wolfe’s gaze sharpened and he leaned back in his chair, studying me. “I haven’t decided yet. But I suppose yourwillingnesswill be key.”
Bastard.The reminder was that I was helpless. The balance of power had tipped again, right into his lap.
“What about my family? They’ll be looking for me.”
“They will be contacted as soon as we find the ring.”
“But I told you they’ll suffer if I don’t marry Thayden.”
“Yes, youdidtell me.” The nonchalance flowing through his voice and his stare made my pulse thunder.
“You don’t understand the chancellor and lords of Stormfell want my family gone. They hate us because we’re magic born. They?—”
“I’ll see to it that your family won’t suffer.”
“What will you do, though? I need to know. I?—”
“That’s enough. I said I’d take care of it and I will.” He glared back at me with a sternness that stopped me from challenging him again. “Unless you have any questions about how you can be morewilling, we’re done here.”