9

Jadon grows serious when he sees my expression. “Who were you talking to?” His eyes skip around the tree line.

“The old woman,” I say, looking back to the forest, heart still racing.

“Which old woman? Maford’s full of old women.” His words sound light, but his lips become white slashes. “Did she threaten you? Did she hurt you?”

“No. Just…” I gape at him, stumped, then take a quick peek at the forest again.

Where did she go? And why did she snap at me? She smiled at me yesterday and called me “child” and touched my ears so that I could hear the thoughts of others. Peeved—that was her mood now. And if you continue to reverse everything that I’ve done ? What does that even mean? And failures ? What have I failed at? I’ve been in Maford for a day now, and I’ve already earned more than half of the twelve geld I need, and I haven’t misbehaved. Well, strangling Olivia wasn’t the best behavior, but I had reasons. Is that what she’s talking about? Unless…

Ice spreads across my stomach. What does Sybel know about me that I’ve forgotten? Is Jamart wrong? Is kindness not in my nature? Am I more a strangler than a comforter? Have I misused my hands before? Has Sybel witnessed me do bad things and is exhausted by my behavior and that’s why she said I don’t listen and I need to make amends?

I pinch the bridge of my nose to contain the frustrated tears building behind my eyes. Everything that I’ve done for you. Why did she scold me when she knows I’m lost? Who must I become to get where ? Who the fuck am I now ?

“Well, if anyone bothers you,” Jadon says, tightening the bandage around his hand with his teeth, “just tell me. I’ll handle them.”

“I can handle myself, thank you,” I say, prickling.

“I didn’t mean—”

I hold up my hands in apology. “I know.” My gaze wanders back to the trees and those stumps. “This place is exhausting.” I poke the pitiful lengths of wood with my foot. “If I’m being honest, you are all awful.”

Jadon clears his throat and pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

Ugh. I did it again. “I didn’t mean you . I meant collectively. You’ve been so accommodating, and I do appreciate your kindness.” My head is now killing me, and I just want to lie down.

“Sounds like you and Jamart hit it off,” he says with a lifted eyebrow.

I blanch. “How do you know we got along?”

“Small town. Word travels fast. Especially when someone who’s known to be grumpy is seen grinning from ear to ear after spending time with a lovely young lady.”

“I have that effect on some people.” Despite a flush of warmth at his flattery, my voice sounds weary and flat. “And in this town, I have that effect on only one person.”

He squints into the sky. “Oh, there’s more than one person.”

I sigh, unable to conjure a witty comeback. I’m in no mood for banter, even with Jadon. That confrontation with Sybel has left me feeling hollow and ungrounded.

Jadon nods at the pouch from Jamart tied to my sash. “A gift?”

“Yep.” I tap the small bag. “Some men know how to treat a lady.”

He shoves his hands into his pockets. “Really? What could he have possibly given you?”

I lift my chin. “Eight geld for starters. Am I giving the geld to you to pay off my debt? If you don’t mind, I’d prefer that. I don’t wanna be near Freyney or Narder again.”

Jadon studies me. “I’ll handle it.” He steps closer. “What’s going on? You’re troubled.”

I pick up the hatchet and focus on chopping more branches in half.

“You can talk to me,” he says. “I wanna help. I don’t make candles, but I think spoons are also great, and if you want to learn how to make one—”

I snort and laugh, resting the hatchet on the stump I’m using as a block. “Spoons?”

He waggles his eyebrows. “Forks, if you wanna live dangerously.”

For a moment, our eyes lock and I’m tempted. I want to talk to him. I want him to comfort me. I want to reach out and stroke his cheek, kiss his injured hand, call him “lovely,” and take a nap right here with him beside me. I want him to say my name again, and I want to tell him about growing up in some part of Vallendor far from here and the name of my favorite horse and what I like to do after a long workday. But I know none of these things, still , and after talking with Sybel, I don’t know if I want to know.

The sting of tears again. “I’m…” Exhausted. Frustrated. Woeful.

Jadon hesitates before quickly setting a comforting hand on my arm and just as quickly withdrawing it. “Hey, it’s okay to be sad. To be disappointed. I know it must be hard to not remember your past life. But you’ll remember, I promise.”

A defeated sigh escapes my lips. No one can promise such a thing. Not even this man with his comforting voice and sincere expression. I place several pieces of wood in the bucket.

“When I told you that I’d help you figure it out, I meant it, okay?” He offers me a soft smile tinged with sadness. “Think of it this way: not knowing your past may be better than having an awful one. I know there could be countless reasons that keep you from remembering—and to be frank, you may want to forget what happened before yesterday. I guess…”

He chews his bottom lip, thinking. “I guess I don’t want you to despair. Maybe this is a chance to start over, make new memories. Do things differently this time. Take a chance or hold back. Go left instead of right.”

How will I make amends for my failures?

Maybe that’s all Sybel meant—this is my new start, a new beginning.

“That’s an interesting way of looking at it.” I push out a breath and shake it off, shoving several more pieces of wood into the bucket, then straightening. “I know you mean well, but… You have no idea how untethered I am. You don’t want me to despair, but I’m well into despair, and my new start hasn’t been as promising as you just made it sound.”

“Maford,” he says.

“Maford,” I say, nodding.

“Sorry.” He flushes. “You’re right. I have no idea what you’re feeling.”

“You don’t.” I don’t even know what I’m feeling.

I pick up the hatchet, place another branch on the block, hack it into two pieces, and drop them in the bucket. “Has Maford always been this way?”

“Blame bad fortune—that’s made many of us suspicious, and obviously no one like you lives here. Shit. I didn’t mean…” He pushes his hand through his hair. “That came out wrong. I meant to say: if Farmer Gery showed up in Brithellum in his dusty clothes and chicken feathers, he’d stick out, too. And who likes sticking out?”

“Some of us can’t help it.”

“And I’m grateful,” he says, touching his heart. “You are unlike anyone I’ve ever met anywhere . Not just Maford. I feel…” He searches the horizon for that emotion, and I hold my breath. “I feel like we came from the same cabbage patch or something.” Then he looks at me as though I’m the last star in the sky before dawn, the last sip of clean water ever. And the world around us stands utterly still.

My muscles loosen, and my heartbeat slows, and Jadon Ealdrehrt has become Jamart’s garden but with beautiful eyes, a tender smile, and a kind heart. If I must start over again… But I can’t start over here. I need to move on and discover who I am, where I’m from, and what I’ve done that Sybel’s had to fix. I won’t discover that in Maford. Leaving this place doesn’t make me sad. Who I’ll have to leave behind? That makes me sad. And I remember my dream, asking him to come with me, and I remember his answer.

No.

And just like that, the moment’s gone.

I blink and remember that I’m holding a hatchet. “So I have…” I gesture to the bucket of wood.

“I’ll get that.” He reaches for the handle with his injured hand. Both of his shirtsleeves are rolled up, and before now, I couldn’t see the angry red welts and burns scarring his arms. Some scars are old, but some are so new that I wince from the heat of their viciousness.

“Is that all from the forge?” I nod at his injuries, and he drops his hands to his sides, bucket forgotten.

Some of these burns look intentional. Like brands.

“They can’t all come from making spoons, right?” I ask. “Those slashes. From swords? What happened?”

Our gazes collide, and in that moment, I know this man. Even though I don’t know who I am or where I’m from, I do know that the violence on his arm is evil with intention, a marking that serves as a reminder to the bearer and to someone standing so close they can feel its cruelty. Love leaves no mark like this. Love doesn’t burn against skin like this. At least, I hope it doesn’t.

“Who wounded you?” I whisper, setting the hatchet back on the stump.

He tries to smile and busies himself unrolling his sleeves to cover the marks. “I’m okay, Kai. These are old. They look worse than they feel.”

I swallow to loosen the tightness in my throat, fighting the urge again to reach out to him and to offer comfort. My core bends toward him, urging me to slip my arms around his waist and place my cheek against his. The intense need to remove his suffering sweeps through my heart in a painful wave, overwhelming me, disorienting me, because I don’t know what this is . Desire? Care? Both?

Jadon senses something, too, and he steps toward me like he knows what I want.

And I move closer like this is my calling, not to fix him but to…

The moment the warmth of his body drifts to meet mine, we both tremble.

Somewhere in a cottage nearby, a man coughs. Another man coughs. Deep. Phlegmy.

Jadon takes a deep breath and steps away from me. After a moment, his jaw hardens, and he reaches for the bucket. “We should finish this up before the day ends.”

“Don’t worry,” I say, moving it out of his reach. “Even though you say you’re not, I know that you’re still hurt. I’ll carry the bucket.”

“No, I’m okay,” he insists.

I tilt my head and study his tense features. Why won’t he let me help him? “Jadon, you wanted me to get wood. If you could get it, then why send me ?”

“It’s fine, Kai. I do everything around here anyway.”

A smile warbles on my lips, half amused, half serious as I pick up the bucket by the handle. “Do you think asking for help makes you weak?”

His jaw tightens. Yes . “I know what I need.” He places his hands to the outside of mine on the handle.

I side-eye him. “ Do you?”

He flushes. No. His eyes drift to a point over my shoulder. “You can let go now.”

“You can also let go.” My cheeks burn. “Surrender. You may enjoy it. I won’t tell.”

His gaze, hot and poisoned, snaps to mine. “I’m not joking, Kai.”

What just happened? What made him change like that so quickly?

We stand there, both holding the bucket handle but standing miles apart, eyes locked in a sudden and silent battle of wills. And even though I don’t know much, I do know that we look foolish. Since I’m no fool… “You don’t want my help? Then…” I release the handle, and the bucket drops and lands on his foot, wood bouncing out.

Jadon winces, mutters, “Shit,” and kicks the bucket as though this is all the bucket’s fault. Then he jolts in pain and grabs at his foot.

Impressed, I lift my eyebrows as I watch the pail’s trajectory into the forest. “Did that make you feel better? Hurting yourself to prove something to me?”

He peers at me, his eyes now a foggy blue, then swipes his face with his bandages. “My hand’s not that messed up.”

“Okay,” I say, shrugging. “How messed up is it, then?”

“Long story.”

I cross my arms. “I’m not doing anything else right now.”

He shoves his hands beneath his armpits. “I got distracted making a mace. That’s it.”

I squint at that hand. His fingers don’t look swollen, and the redness peeking from beneath that bandage isn’t blood. It looks more like…ink? “And that’s why you’re wearing a bandage?”

He nods and releases a breath.

I try to hear his thoughts, but my parlor trick isn’t working. Did Sybel un-gift me? Was she upset with the way I was using my gift? Is that why she was short with me?

I smile and pitch my head sideways. “Now, was that so difficult? Don’t you feel better?”

He drops his head, then puts his fists on his hips. “Kai, that…was not intended. I’m sorry. Everything’s different with you, and I’m not used to someone really showing concern. Who won’t use my weakness for their gain. I apologize. Okay?”

I consider him for a moment, sense his exhausted sincerity, and nod.

“I came out here to give you this.” He pulls an object wrapped in thick burlap from his apron pocket. He offers me the bundle. “Hope this makes things better for you.”

“What is it?” I unwrap the burlap, only to find layers of cotton swaddling his gift.

“Wanted to make sure it was safe,” he says, his face reddening.

I unwrap the first layer of cotton and unwrap another layer, and then another layer and…

“My pendant!” Lightness sweeps over me, and I let out an “eek.” My smile is so big, it spills over into my heart. Even my headache eases and my eyes hurt less. “Thank you, Jadon, for protecting it with all the…” I motion to the burlap and cotton in the grass. “You have no idea how important this is to me.”

I hold up the amulet. The dark stone floats in the middle of the moth’s thorax. Like it’s waiting. I’m one step closer to understanding who I am.

“And Olivia promises to clean your vest and cloak before returning them,” he says. “Everything should be dry by tomorrow. We don’t want you to feel like a prisoner here, but I’d appreciate it if you finish paying off the rest of what you owe.”

“Sure.” I fasten the pendant around my neck. The clasp is loose, thanks to Olivia snatching it from me, but I’m just happy to have it back. My throat opens, and my breathing deepens, and something rumbles in my gut, like I’ve been born again, and the amulet becomes a part of me, just as much as my heart and my eyes.

Vision crisper, I see that the daystar will soon kiss the horizon and that the sky has turned rose-colored with evening light. Lungs stronger, I inhale air scented with jasmine and woodsmoke, and for a moment, Maford has rejuvenated, its glow no longer that of death.

Jadon stares at me, color rising in his cheeks again, but not because he’s angry, embarrassed, or uncontrolled.

Because he wants me? Because he wants to protect me? Both?

“Kai…” His body heat wraps around me like a blanket.

“That’s my name.” I touch his arm, skimming my fingers down to his bandaged hand.

He wraps his finger around mine, and I place my free hand atop—

The sky flashes bright white.

I suck air through clenched teeth.

Before we can drop hands, a powerful force yanks my hair from behind. Before I can free myself, I fall down…down…down… And it feels like…like…

Like I’ve done this before.