Page 23 of A Castle of Broken Memories

The hopeful glint in the frog’s eyes faded, and it slumped over on the rock.

“Tell you what. Show me how to get out of this place and maybe I’ll find it in my heart to give you a quick peck.”

The frog lifted its head, its eyes brightening once again. It hopped off the rock onto the soft green moss of the bank and over to an old, stone well covered in ivy. A conical roof made of faded gray shingles cast it in soft shadow, with a wooden bucket hanging ready for use. The frog leaped up onto the well’s edge and looked at me with what can only be described as pride.

“A well? This is your magical exit?” I peered into the shadowy depths, the tiniest hint of light skimming the water. It looked like your average, everyday well to me, but then again, I was talking to a frog who, by all indications, seemed to be communicating back. Given the circumstances, it at least warranted further inspection. I lowered the bucket down until it sank beneath the surface, then drew it back up. Cold water splashed my fingers as I pulled it up onto the stone ledge.

“Not gonna lie, buddy, but this well is looking more and more like just that—a well.” I bent down, sipping some of the clear liquid. It tasted heavenly after a morning of beanstalk climbing, running from giant monsters, and confronting long-lost exes. It also tasted like water. From a well. “Points for trying, I guess,” I muttered. Then, noting the disappointed look on the frog’s face, I sighed and held out my hand. “Come here, then.”

His eyes lit up, and he hopped eagerly onto my palm.

“Awfully trusting,” I said, lifting him to face level. “You do realize I could crush you as easily as kiss you, right?”

The frog gulped, and I would swear a trickle of sweat ran down its slick skin. The sight was so adorably comical, I couldn’t help but laugh, the weight that’d been threatening to crush me finally easing in the face of this tiny green amphibian. “Thanks,” I whispered, planting a kiss on its bald head. “I needed that.”

Unsurprisingly, the frog remained a frog, but at least I felt ready to wolf up and face what was waiting for me. I might not be able to give Jack what he wants, but I will find a way to provide him with what he needs—what we all need, come to think of it.

A way home.

14

Jack still wasn’t back when I returned to the cabin after leaving my amphibious friend sunbathing on its rock. Calum sat waiting on the bench with our bags, but Tenebris had already let himself inside. I found him rummaging through a shallow, wooden chest beside a bed made of pine boughs and fur blankets built into the far wall. Because of course he’d immediately start snooping.

I stepped inside the single-room shelter, taking in the stone fireplace sealed with red clay and the crate full of kindling placed beside it. Mismatched candles flickered from the top of a small table that’d been pushed against the back wall, with a set of charcoal pencils and a thick, leather book resting beside them. A wooden door built into the floor implied a root cellar of some sort.

“Find anything interesting?” I asked, running my fingers over the book’s soft cover.

“That depends,” Tenebris replied. “Do you find crudely-sewn underwear interesting?” He snorted. “You’d think after ten years the guy could manage some decent stitching.”

“I doubt it’s high on his priority list.” I flipped the book open to the first page. Dancing charcoal eyes winked back at me from a familiar freckled face. My breath hitched. He drew me from memory?

“Ooh, how about these gems?” Tenebris crowed, oblivious to my distraction. “Socks that were clearly knit by a blind badger. Honestly, I’m only guessing they’re socks at all.”

I turned the page, and my eyes welled up at the sight of my wolf form running joyously through an autumn-tinged forest. A hand rested on my shoulder, Calum’s comforting pine needle scent enveloping me like a warm hug. He didn’t say anything, and I leaned back against his broad chest as Tenebris’s comment slowly sank in. Knit socks…

I turned my head, finding Tenebris with a lumpy red sock over his hand. He angled it my way, moving his hand inside like a puppet. “This is the song that doesn’t end,” he warbled in a high-pitched voice, making the sock mouth the words along with him.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

“Ten…” Calum’s low voice held a gentle warning, making Tenebris falter, his brows lowering in confusion when he realized I was a blink away from breaking down.

“Mari? What’s wrong?”

I swallowed, hard. “Nothing, I⁠—”

A flash of sunlight from the opening door had me pressing my lips together, the hairs on the back of my neck prickling to attention. A shuffling of footsteps and Tenebris’s eyes widened when he looked over my shoulder toward the door. My brain screamed at me to turn around, but my head refused to budge. Belatedly, I recalled the open book and slammed it shut. As if he wouldn’t know exactly what I’d been looking at.

“We need to talk.”

The husky timbre of his voice was a straw too many—I was officially broken. They’d have to go on without me, leaving me to grow old and moss-covered in my stupefied state.

Calum cleared his throat, his big hand squeezing my shoulder. “I think he’s talking to you,” he murmured, low enough to be meant only for me.

Me. Right.

Who was I again?

“Mariana?”