It took a moment to collect myself, to calm my racing heart. He waited patiently, his thumbs kneading my temples. The intimacy of the gesture both agitated and soothed me. At last, I pulled away and said, “After Violette and Victoire rescued you from the dungeons, you returned to Léviathan. Do you remember that?”

He shadowed my footsteps. “Yes. I took a bath.”

“And then?”

“And then I”—his face contorted—“I spoke with Claud. I told him about my mother’s capture.”

Lacing my fingers through his, I shook my head. “You didn’t. ‘They took her, Lou. They took my mother, and she’s not coming back.’ That’s what you told me.”

He stared at me, nonplussed. “What happened next?”

“You tell me.” When he said nothing, only stared, I reached up to kiss his cheek. His arms wrapped around my waist. “After I took Bas’s memories,” I whispered against his skin, “I didn’t realize what I’d done until I saw him again. There were these—these gaps in my thoughts. I didn’t scrub him away completely, only the romantic moments, but he didn’t recognize me at all. I had to find a trigger to help me remember—one memory to spark the rest.”

He pulled back to look at me. “But that could be anything.”

“For me, it was the moment I met Bas in Soleil et Lune.”

“Where did I meet you?”

“Outside of Pan’s patisserie.” I spun him toward the lock hastily. “Imagine a door. You were blocking the whole thing like a giant asshole, watching Beau’s homecoming parade in the street.” He turned to scowl at me over his shoulder. “What? You were. It was completely discourteous. I tried to move past you”—I imitated the movement—“but there wasn’t room for both of us. You ended up turning and nearly breaking my nose with your elbow.” When he pivoted to face me in real time, I lifted his elbow and snapped my head back, pantomiming the injury. “Does any of this ring a bell?”

He looked thoroughly miserable. “No.”

Fuck. “Maybe this isn’t your trigger.” I fought to keep my voice even. “It could be something else—like when you chased me in Soleil et Lune, or when we married on the bank of the Doleur, or—or when we had sex for the first time on the rooftop.”

His eyes narrowed. “We consummated our relationship on a rooftop?”

I nodded swiftly. Too swiftly. “Soleil et Lune again. It was so cold—try to imagine it. The wind on your bare skin.”