“Momma,” I point.

“What?” he asks. Never has my father’s face expressed so much bitterness as he looks up and finds the black carriage.

It speeds away.

He takes a couple of steps forward and stares for many moments after it is gone. He takes me in his arms and whispers in my ear, “Don’t ever run from me like that.”

\/\/\/

When I wake from this night of constant dreams, the first place I want to go is the meadow. There’s no other place they will be.

Sweat rains down their brows and cheeks, as every muscle constricts until the tension shows by the map of veins in their biceps and hands. There is dew on the grass in the early morning as Kenichi, Mak, Briston, and Arek take long steps with slow arms.

I watch for a moment, hidden behind the thicket of trees just off the winding path. With the memories of my father, everything has changed overnight. The man I see today is not from yesterday.

Once again, just as the day before, Arek’s eyes turn in my direction. I descend the stone steps and walk directly to Briston, who is nearest.

“You should have a scar here.” I touch the skin between his thumb and forefinger. Briston smiles. “The very first time you taught me to use a knife, I sliced you here.”

Briston chuckles, “Yes.”

“And you took me to court when I was just a baby.” I finally look around at all the men who clearly understand what has happened. “Japha was in one of those box insets in court. Whatever those are? Men and women in white robes said they would protect me all my life . . . I’m assuming they are either the Prophets or the Powers?”

Even my dad’s voice no longer sounds like a stranger. I still can’t grasp what it feels like to live nearly a thousand years, but the comfort of his voice is now mine and doesn’t just belong to Remy.

“Well, at least I know you and Mak.”

He looks at me with a grin. “At least.”

“Ask me anything. I know my life with you. My mother’s name was Lyneva.”

He quickly hands his knives to one of the servants and then turns back to me.

“How much do you remember?”

“My childhood. Almost everything with you.”

I can see in his eyes that his mind is reeling with concern and fear, mixed with joy to have his daughter back.

Arek is obviously concerned. “How much do you remember of her? Lyneva?”

“Nothing . . . just her name. I know you don’t want me to remember.” I cast a glance at Arek, standing not very far away. He watches with a serious expression, still sweaty from the morning’s practice. “But it’s not stopping . . . clearly.”

“Welcome back.” Briston pulls me into him as he’s done all my life, or at least the old life. He kisses my temple and gives a reserved laugh. After a moment he lets go. “It’s been too long.”

The meadow is so silent that not even the morning caws of birds are singing now. Every servant watches from a distance but look at one another out of the corner of their eyes.

“Kenichi,” Arek keeps his voice a low rumble. “Tell them what you were told yesterday.”

“Give them a moment,” Mak instructs.

“We don’t have time, Mak,” Arek barks.

Kenichi nods. It is difficult to make out what he says under his broken English. “I spoke with Master Niya yesterday. He admits that the Prophets and Powers believe that our only option is the Cellar. Fires have had to be put out all over. The reaction is,” he takes a breath, “bigger than they expected since they let her walk free.”

“They’ve warned us to say nothing to her. Plus, we all know the only chance we have at finding out what really happened is to get the Powers to truly believe that she is not Remy—yet. They can’t take Willow,” Arek says.

“They’re going to take her anyway.” Mak shakes his head as he dries off his skin with a towel.

Arek clenches his jaw.

Mak addresses him, “They know there is no stopping her memory. They’ve placed, once again, another rule that can’t be followed. I don’t believe they will care whether she gets her memory back or not. You’re trying to stop something that isn’t to be controlled. The Prophets will send her to the Cellar. It’s only a matter of time.”

“How many men do we know on the Council? How many Prophets are we certain are loyal to Japha or Navin?” Arek asks.

Japha and Navin. These men continually haunt me.

“They’ve sworn for years that they would protect her, and yet all we’ve done her entire life is try to protect her from them,” Mak continues.

“We knew that was the way it would be, Mak,” Briston says confidently. “It just got worse when it came out.”

“When what came out?” I ask quickly.

It is instantly clear they are going to ignore me.

“Arek’s right. We should prevent her understanding more than she should,” Kenichi agrees. “If not to save her, then to save ourselves from the directives of the Prophets.”

“Right,” Briston says as he places an arm over my shoulders.

“We need Gyre,” Kenichi says with a nod of his head.

“Is that really necessary?” Mak yells.

Kenichi looks at Briston with question. Finally, Briston nods his head. “All right.”

Suddenly something happens that hasn’t since we arrived in Japan—Arek agrees with Mak. This alone terrifies me. “That’s not a good idea,” he says.

“It’s the only idea,” Kenichi insists. “You have another suggestion, you share. Until then Gyre is where we go.”

My father looks at me like there is a mystery to solve, like he wants desperately to have the answers.

“Go back,” Briston tells me compassionately. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure out what’s best.”

Arek nods, “Come on. Let’s go.”

Mak shakes his head. “I’m going to finish here.”

Arek takes my arm, directing me to the house.