Kenichi nods. “Gyre first. Then Covey and the Prophets.”

Sassi’s eyes spin to Arek fast and it catches my attention. “Gyre?!”

Arek doesn’t say anything. Finally, Briston speaks up.

“Hypnosis is our only option.”

Everyone’s hesitation sends panic through my veins. “How long will it last?” I ask suddenly.

The room is silent until my father walks to me. “We have no time and you’re remembering too quickly.”

“How long will it take my memory?”

“We don’t know,” he finally answers.

“You would rather risk that I never have my memory come back?”

Kenichi speaks up. “You have no memory of the Cellar. If you did, this would not be a fight—”

Mak interrupts his father, seemingly afraid that I might take offense, “We get one chance to stand in front of the Powers and beg for time. One chance. And they will know if you have your memory back. There is no hiding that.”

“I’ll lie! I’ll pretend.”

Kenichi growls and tosses a hand at me like I am an idiot as he walks away. “Ephemes . . .” he whispers.

Arek comes close, “Willow, you’ve met someone before that you just didn’t trust right away?”

“Of course.”

“You knew inherently that I was there to help you.” He looks at me inquisitively, so I nod. “All of us have had years to perfect what we know from those we’ve never met. I can tell you what their thoughts are or whether they’re lying, whether they have good intentions, all before they speak.”

Years on this earth with nothing but time, I think to myself. It is amazing what these men and women have done.

“Ephemes have a very narrow understanding of fellow humans. Even those they’ve known for years. This doesn’t happen with Velieri. Do you understand?” Arek digs deep—it’s almost as though I can sense him within my thoughts.

“There is no lying to the Powers?” I ask as I watch everyone wrestle with what’s next. “There’s no lying to you?”

“No,” Arek answers truthfully.

Sassi rolls her neck with tension. “There is nothing easy about this. Damned if we do and damned if we don’t.”

“Is it not more important to clear her name so that she has a chance?” Kenichi begs. “It is time to go. Time to see Gyre.”

“Let them arrest me. I don’t care,” I say. The anger rises in my chest and comes out before I can stop it.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Briston says with compassion.

Kenichi lifts his hand in the air, “Men and women, more powerful, more capable than you, have come out of the Cellar nothing like when they went in. Demons haunting them day and night until they have no peace. If you go to the Cellar, there is no chance of bringing you back the same. Not as weak as you stand before me. We meet Gyre tonight.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

I stand alone with my arms wrapped around me, trying desperately to calm my shaking hands. My room in Kenichi’s house has been my sanctuary for the last hour, waiting to meet Gyre. Outside a beautiful blue bird continues to sweep back and forth in the sky above the flower garden, never actually touching down to the safety of the earth. Again and again he nearly lands only to quickly ascend into the clouds. How strange that my feet are firmly planted on solid ground, yet I have never been so lost.

“It’s time to go.” Arek’s unexpected voice stirs the nerves within me.

“Why did I go in front of the Powers with Mak?” I ask.

It takes Arek longer than expected to respond. “To find out if they approved of your engagement.”

“Our engagement?” Finally, I turn to him, my surprise clearly showing on my face. “And?”

“They didn’t agree.”

“He wasn’t my Yovu?”

“They didn’t believe so. You weren’t allowed to marry him. It wasn’t by choice. The Powers are careful of who they allow to combine. A fusion of Bloodlines or Elite are often frowned upon. But no, I don’t believe he belonged to you. It’s one of the only times I’ve agreed with the Prophets and Powers.” It is painfully obvious that Arek doesn’t care to be talking about this.

“And Aita clearly feels the same.”

Arek grinds his teeth together and an irritation creeps into his voice. “Aita was promised that Mak would one day marry her. You stood in the way for many years.”

He shifts uncomfortably. For the first time the ability to read his discomfort is no different than taking a breath.

“Arek, he’s not the same as you,” I say. He reaches his hand out to touch the hem of my shirt. “His touch doesn’t feel the same as yours.” I hope that he will accept my assurance, yet he says nothing. “Will Gyre take every memory? Will I lose that feeling you give me?”

Arek closes the distance between us with sound steps and places his palms on my cheeks. Instantly my skin springs to attention to be closer to his, as sparks rush through me until my body is on fire. He drops his head, but stops just inches from my lips, seeming to question whether he should continue. Without warning, a tear falls down my cheek and wraps around his thumb, so he pulls my forehead to his lips, kissing me gently. My heart pounds against my chest when he moves ever so slowly to reach my lips but doesn’t finish. Every place he has already touched still carries the remnants of him. It takes him so long to come just two inches closer, which gives me time to study the fight in his eyes. Arek wants Remy, not me. He wants the woman he called wife, fought beside, and loved for the length of many Epheme lifetimes. How can we be the same, but not the same?

Our eyes lock during his battle, while I wish for the end. Finally, he submits to it and his lips drop onto mine. The pressure of his kiss travels from my lips through my chest, igniting every inch of me. When his hand drops to my waist and then wraps around me, slightly pulling my hair that hangs down my back, my knees crumple into him. It is impossible to resist wrapping my arms around him and letting him lift me to my toes.

Something within me vacillates from panic to hope that he might finally accept that Remy possibly won’t return.

“Gyre is not here to remove your memory. They will work on slowing its return,” Arek explains.

“They?” I ask.

“Gyre is so ancient and powers so complex that identifying them as man or woman is irrelevant. You’ll understand when you see them.”

“It’s time to go.” Peter’s voice whispers from the doorway.

Arek pulls his lips away just an inch, but he doesn’t let go while his eyes search my face.

“Is she me?” I whisper.

He grins, then nods. My skin still feels swollen. Peter must have disappeared down the hall while Arek took his time letting go.

“You’re asking me to—” I whisper, but he interrupts.

“—I’m asking you to give yourself the best chance at freedom,” he quietly admits.