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Her hands shook but she fisted them in her lap to hide it. Meira was scared. She was scared of a lot of things. She was scared to love someone she didn’t know in this timeline. Scared to love someone enough that losing them would hurt like it hurt to lose her parents. She couldn’t help that she was terrified of whatever could possibly be between them. And she certainly couldn’t help that she was even more frightened about losing her dragon and her mind.
What she’d remembered last night had felt an awful lot like betrayal. How could she open her heart to someone she knew was going to hurt her?
“You don’t even know me.”
“Maybe I want to,” Remis challenged.
The door behind the counter opened and Kindred strolled forward humming. She stopped just shy of the counter and clapped her hands. “I hope you slept well last night.”
Reluctantly, Remis pulled his attention away from Meira and gave Kindred an easy smile. “The accommodations were wonderful. Thank you.”
Meira exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d held onto and turned away from Remis. She didn’t offer Kindred her thanks or even a smile. All she wanted was her memories and answers around the curse and then to be on their way.
“When do I get to speak to the witch?” she asked.
“Right to business, I see.” Kindred placed her hands on her hips. “You’re speaking to the witch right now.”
Meira glared and let every ounce of her hatred pour into the one look. “Can you get my memories back?”
“Maybe,” she shrugged. “Lucky for you, I am a mind witch so I do specialize in this sort of thing. As for the curse,” she pointed to Meira’s hand, “that can only be undone by the witch who did it or by completing the task.” She gave a good show of frowning toward Remis, who shifted in his seat.
“Come, girl, let’s dig into that pretty little head of yours and see what we can find.” Kindred motioned for her to stand and come around the counter. Meira obliged but shivered when the witch’s cold fingers settled against her temple. “Take a deep breath.”
Meira was mid-inhale when the pain hit her. She could still feel Kindred’s fingers resting gently against her temple but another sort of touch was digging in through her flesh, her bones, and deep into her brain. Her eyes closed to the assault of images and the feeling of needling fingers sorting through every thought she’d ever had.
In one heartbeat, she was nursing a bite from Mrithun as a hatchling, in the next she was practicing fighting in the sky. Agony shot down her spine. There was a flash of skin on skin, Bram’s lips trailing the space between her breasts and then he was looking at her with that angry cold look of his, telling her she wouldn’t be coming for the mission. Her muscles cramped, contorting her body as the spasms refused to let her go. She saw herself laughing in the heat of summer at something Isaac had said. There was the flash of a blade as she fought against the pirates trying to pillage a seaside village. And she was a child again, running through the woods, crying and looking back to see if she’d been followed. Mental fingers dug themselves through her head, clawing with razor-sharp nails. She was starving on the streets, begging for food or money or even a place to sleep. Remis stood there, in the middle of a hallway, the doors at his back closed, mud on his boots, water soaking his pants, and his mouth dropping as he looked down at the curse upon his flesh. Pain. Dark all consuming pain.
Hands smoothed over her face. Her body was jostled but cradled gently against firm muscles. “Meira!” The voice was frantic. She sucked in a breath, smelling the familiar scent of the tavern's soap. “Meira!”
Her lashes fluttered. Two dark onyx eyes stared down at her. A hand was brushing her curls away from her face.
“She’ll be fine,” Kindred said somewhere beside them.
Meira was coming back to herself, the pain receding as quickly as it had come. Remis’ arms held her tightly against him but she sent her elbow into his gut and removed herself from his embrace. He grunted. Glowered.
“You’re welcome.” He rubbed a hand against his stomach where the point of her elbow had met.
“What did you see?” Meira asked from the floor behind the counter.
Kindred stood above them watching with an arched brow. “A witch and a scale rider? Clever girl.” The woman clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Sadly, there isn’t much I can do for you. You already assumed correctly, time traveler. Your memories will return, but first they must catch up to you from the reality you left. The more you alter it the longer it will take for them to arrive.” She looked from Meira to Remis, both of them still sitting on the floor. “I’ve lived for many long years as have several of the women in my family. When I was a girl, my great-grandmother often told me stories. Would you like to hear one?”
Everything inside of Meira felt brittle. She’d have to wait for her memories, to fully understand what and how and why she’d done all this. What if by the time they came, it was too late? What if Mrithun would always be fated to die? What if Remis would always betray her? Worse still, what if she couldn’t stop herself from loving him?
Now the witch wanted to tell stories? After she’d pillaged Meira’s mind and didn’t even bother to warn her of the pain?
“This hardly seems like the time for a story,” Meira growled.
“Actually,” Kindred’s eyes sparkled, “I think this might be the best time.”
Remis stood, straightened his waistcoat, and retucked his shirt into his trousers. Then he offered Meira a hand that she ignored. He rolled his eyes as Meira stood on her own and frowning took a step away from them.
“I’m sure you’re aware, Meira, that there are several different types of witches. We’re all different, born with different talents, but all of us have the same magic that made this world blossom running through our veins. Anyone of us could use that magic to create minor spells, like the huntress mark you both carry, but not all can travel through time or shuffle through someone’s mind.”
Meira scoffed. She knew these things, if only in a vague recollection of what her mother had once taught her, but she hadn’t come to find another witch for a history lesson.
Kindred continued, ignoring Meira’s look of annoyance. “The first witch was one of harvest. Every crop she nursed grew far faster than anyone else’s and never died or took to disease. The next witch born controlled the weather. The next after her could manipulate metals. Then one was born with the ability to speak with animals. Beasts would bow to this woman who went on to become the first to tame a Bold Wing.”
In all the history Meira had been taught it was scale riders who’d first tamed the dragons, not witches.
