Chapter Thirty-Three

Emma

I remembered.

"Emma?"

The ghostly echo of Rhyse's concern was brushed aside by the onslaught of memories. Over nine months' worth of them, all pummeling into my brain at once as the mental block came crashing down.

"I gotcha."

Hands grabbed me as I teetered and fell, easing me to the ground while I held my head, screaming and crying through the pain assaulting my temples. The wet clothing, the letter, they were nothing before the onslaught of agony.

"What's wrong, Emma? Talk to me. Please. What can I do?"

I was rocking back and forth. Tears taking salty tracks down my face, splashing to the rocky ground beneath. The pain gradually faded, but it left behind a new sort of ache.

"My home," I whispered.

"What? What did you say?" Rhyse asked, still holding me.

"I remember."

He stiffened. "Your memories are back?"

"Yes," I said, sitting up, away from him. "I remember the dragons coming. They destroyed everything. I was there, caught in the middle of it. Running. Always running. They were so close. Can't look back. Don't look back, they said. Just keep running. Running away. While the soldiers ran to it."

"To what?"

"Their deaths," I whispered. "They all died."

Rhyse closed his eyes. "Emma, I'm sorry. I—"

I didn't hear what else he said. Because there was more. I remembered making it out, fleeing to another town. Then that one would come under attack. A months-long repeat of the same thing. Always running. There were always dragons on the horizon. Dragons with mouths of flame and claws that could cut through anything.

And the screams. There were the screams.

But then …

I got up, starting to pace.

"There was a refugee camp," I whispered. "That's where I was. I remember it. The tents. And a camper trailer. And—"

"And what, Emma?"

I met his eyes. "Bob. I remember Bob. The refugee camp overseer. He was so nice. Trying to help everyone, doing what he could. We flirted. It wasn't supposed to be anything."

Rhyse was stiffening as I talked.

"Then it got bad," I whispered. "He got bad."

My eyes popped open at the furious growl coiled in Rhyse's throat, matched only by the fury I could see in his eyes and feel in my mind.

"I ran away. I fell. In the rain."

"What then?"

"I hit my head. Then there were lights. Bright lights. Flashlights."

"Then?" Rhyse pushed.

I stiffened angrily as I finally remembered it all. "Then I was in a room. They said I had two options. I could either go back to Bob. Or I could come here. Take my chances with the dragonmen who wanted women. They said I would be a concubine."

Rhyse didn't reply.

I stared down at him, shaking. "You … you lied!" I shouted, the realizations coming crashing home one after another.

"What?" He blinked.

"You said I volunteered to come here," I snapped, stabbing a finger at him. "You always said I volunteered to come here. To be one of the women to fulfill the peace treaty between us and your people. That I chose to do it. We just didn't know why. But it was a goddamn lie! All of it!"

"Emma, I—"

"No. Just no. I don't want any more of your excuses. No nothing. You lied to me." I wasn't sure what to do. Then it hit me. "Take me to your sovereign."

"The sovereign? What for?"

"Because I'm going to give her a piece of my fucking mind, that's what! This is kidnapping. That's what it is. I don't belong here. I should never have come here. I did not volunteer for this. I was forced into it at the threat of my life."

"Emma—"

I held up my hand. "No. I'm done with you. I know I can't go home. Because of this—" I tapped the scale on my shoulder furiously. "Something else done to me against my will. But I will give the sovereign a firm dressing down about this, Ruler of all Dragonkind or not."

I turned her title into a sarcastic byline.

Rhyse nodded. "Okay."

"What?" I blinked owlishly at him in shock.

"I said okay." Rhyse shrugged, putting up no protest to anything I said.

"What's going on?" I asked, looking him directly in the eye. "You're far too agreeable about all this."

He sighed deeply. "Emma. I want you to do one thing. One thing only."

"What?" I asked warily.

"Focus. Right here," he said, tapping the side of his head. "Focus on what you feel, on what comes through, when I say this."

" Okay ." I drew the word out slowly.

"I. Did. Not. Know." He stared at me without blinking the entire time. "Okay? I had no idea."

A lot of things were bouncing around in my head aside from Rhyse's contributions. Shoving them aside, I focused on him alone. I could detect his undercurrent of concern. The worry about me. His fear about … something, I wasn't sure what. But overriding all of those was something stronger.

A sense of outrage. Of frustration.

Nowhere did I detect even a hint of deceit.

"You didn't?" I repeated.

He shook his head, hair bouncing with the vigorous effort. "I swear to you. I thought you were a volunteer. That's what I was told. I thought you wanted to be here. Emma, I am so sorry. I would never try to make you do anything against your will. I'm just … I'm sorry I had to—"

He tapped his own shoulder, mimicking my actions about the scale.

"I might not want you to leave," he continued, "but I'll let you go if I can. I would tear that off you if it wouldn't kill both of us. But the farther you are from me, the less it will be there. You'll only know I'm alive. Nothing more. Same for me. You could live a more or less normal life."

I was only vaguely aware of his other words. The longing ache that had preceded it all was what drew my focus when he'd said he didn't want me to leave. Why not?

"You want me to stay?" I asked. "But the note?"

He sighed. "That was written way before. I should've burned it. I don't know why I didn't. I had no intention of sending it. Not anymore."

"But you did at one point."

"There were several points you would've been happy if I'd sent it," he pointed out.

That was fair. I couldn't argue that.

"Things haven't been the easiest between us," he said softly. "But you're strong, intelligent, beautiful beyond compare. No, I don't want you to go. But this isn't about me, Emma. This is about you."

"You're right," I said, shaking my head slowly. "I need some time to think about this. Alone."

His face hid the pain, a perfectly neutral expression of understanding.

But we were closer than that. I could feel it bleed through, try as he might to shield me from it.

"Of course," he said softly. "You should be safe here now. They already got what they wanted."

"I'm sorry about that," I added with a wince. "I tried to stop them."

He waved it off. "It's not as big a deal as you think."

"Okay." I backed away slightly. "Thank you for the space. I … I have a lot to think about. A lot."

Rhyse walked to the edge of the bluffs. "For whatever it's worth, Emma. I am sorry. You deserved better than this."

Then he was gone, disappearing over the edge. I didn't run to watch, to see him shift and hit the water in his dragon form, disappearing under.

I stayed where I was for a very long time. Trying to decide what I should do with my new knowledge and what it meant for my future. Was that a future with Rhyse in it?

Or without?