14. Amanita

FOURTEEN

AMANITA

Despite my heavy words and wish to drift into an eternal sleep, my body persevered. The king must've decided to stop drugging my water, as my fits and symptoms slowly calmed. Over time things began to fall into place, the memories piecing together, leaving me feeling more confused of who I was.

The door opened as the same man from before entered, followed by the physician. The old man smiled, scuttling to my side as he examined my face wound. It had healed nicer than before, the scars less prominent. He cleared his throat as I crawled beneath the thin sheet and raised my gown, showing enough skin for him to observe the deep wound in my abdomen. He touched the scar with his finger, to which I had no reaction. The old man glanced up at me, nodding as I lowered my gown and adjusted myself.

"I apologize for the torture, my lady, but your injuries were extremely neglected and had healed improperly. By reopening your wounds, I was able to not only clean them the correct way, but also remove the built up scar tissue preventing you from experiencing a lifelong burden of struggles. Had I not done so, you would have suffered permanent pain and complications. Thankfully, it seems your wounds have healed properly this time. Are you experiencing any discomfort?" I stared at his face, suddenly recognizing it.

"No, Dr. Altair. I feel perfectly fine." The old man stopped at the sound of his name, glancing at the man behind him. I glanced past him to the soldier, studying him. "You may let the king know it is time." The men nodded to one another, the younger man rushing from the room. "Do you remember anything else, my lady? Anything from your past?"

My head stung as I glanced over the fragments in my mind, gaping holes still present. "I know I was no damsel in distress." Dr. Altair chuckled to himself.

"No, my lady, you are no damsel in distress. Do you remember anything else? How did you get your wounds? Or perhaps, do you remember where you were during the battle at Dryade?"

I closed my eyes, rummaging through the memories, trying to force the answers to come forward. The sounds of war echoed in my ears as swords clinked together, the sounds of men screaming. My own screams played as I looked down to find myself holding a sword, my hand bloodied and covered in dirt. I glanced up, the sun burning my eyes as a sharp pain pierced my abdomen, the memory shooting me back to reality. I broke from the pain, gasping as my eyes shot open. Dr. Altair tried to comfort me, his hands hovering as if hesitant to touch me.

"What did you see?" he questioned, my breathing louder than his words. My heart raced as I grabbed the wound across my stomach, remembering the pain as if it were happening in real time. "My lady?" Morel and his man burst into the room, Morel rushing towards me when the old man raised his arm, stopping him. He had an odd look of concern and worry in his amber eyes as they remained heavy on me. "My lady." Dr. Altair's voice pulled my eyes back to him as I swallowed.

"What have you done to her?" Morel demanded, his fist balled at his side.

"I have only asked a question, my king."

Morel's temper fumed as he glanced between us. "Whatever you have done, I command you to stop it this instant! Look at her!"

"My king—"

"I was in the battle." My statement silenced them both as they stared at me with wide eyes. "I was in the battle." Tears rolled down my face, and Morel pushed past the old man, dropping to his knees as he stared up at me from the side of the bed.

"My lady," he whispered.

"I don't remember what happened exactly, but I know I was there. Fighting." I stared into his yellow-orange eyes, noticing just how beautiful the man was. I could see small hints of Agaric in his features, but he was indeed the opposite of his brother. His face was familiar to me. "I know you," I whispered. Morel's eyes watered at the statement. I hesitated, placing my hand against his cheek. " I know you ."

Morel nodded, pulling something from his pocket. He held his mother's ring up, watching me as I eyed it. "Do you remember this?" I squinted, memories painfully playing behind them.

"The ring is mine," I whispered. "Agaric gave it to me." Morel sighed, dropping his hand. I spied a scar along his left palm. My hand snatched his, flipping it over to examine the old wound closer. "I know this." I glanced at him, his eyes quietly watching me. I offered him my left hand, rotating it as I revealed a scar, almost identical to his.

I ran my finger along my scar, glancing back at him. "Do you know what this is?" he asked, my fingertip tracing the bulging skin along his hand. I shook my head, defeated by an inability to understand. Morel sighed, standing. "Orion," he called over his shoulder as the young man approached. "See to it that our guest is moved to a proper room. Fetch her a hot meal, and have the maids arrange for her to bathe and have her dressed in the appropriate attire." Morel stared at me for a moment before turning to leave.

"Morel," I called, stopping him in his tracks. He turned, a pained expression across his face. "Your ring." I held my hand out, his mother's moonstone ring in my grasp as I offered it to him.

"The ring is yours, my lady." He rushed from the room, leaving me completely lost in the resurfacing maze of my memories. How did I know him? How did I end up on the battlefield? Who am I?