“How well do you know Gatha?”

“I’d die for her,” he says flatly.

It’s clearly useless to press him further. “It does seem like you might learn more if you were a member of Neju’s Guard. Do you think you can make it in?”

Dineas shrugs. “It’s a challenge. I like challenges.”

“Will that be enough?” I wonder how motivated the other Dineas would be to do well in the trials.

He looks at me as if I have no hope of ever understanding. “I’ll do my best. Trust me.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m beginning to prefer his company to yours.”

I don’t have to explain who I’m talking about. Dineas snorts. “Give him some time. He’ll get on your nerves soon enough.” But a flash of uncertainty crosses his face, and I know how he feels. It’s unsettling enough for me, relating in two different ways to what should be the same person. I can only imagine what it’s like for him.

In the remaining time we have, Dineas scribbles an update to Gatha. I warm a stone in the fireplace for him, and he passes it over both sides of the parchments to weaken any rose plague essence before he ties duplicate messages to Slicewing and Scrawny.

Dineas starts to drift away after the birds leave. He takes longer to respond when I speak with him, and I have him lie down and close his eyes to make the transition easier. Gradually the lines of his face smooth out.

A short while later, his eyes blink open. He groans and pushes himself to sitting.

I give him my most reassuring smile. “How do you feel?”

“Drowsy,” he says. It’s hard to put into words, but it’s obvious to me that his memories are once again gone. Something in the way he holds himself, the openness in his expression.

“Do you remember anything from the treatment?”

He furrows his eyebrows. “I remember we were talking. But I don’t remember what about.”

“You’re probably remembering the few moments before you fell asleep,” I lie. “You napped through the entire treatment.”

“Did I snore?”

“A little.”

I walk with him back down the stairs. It’s strange. Even when we’re simply walking, being with him feels different. We’re relaxed around each other, and it makes me realize how much I’m on my guard every time I’m with the old Dineas.

When we reach the courtyard, Dineas opens his mouth as if to say something, then stops.

“What is it?” I ask.

He chuckles, and runs a hand through his dark hair. “I…well, you may think this is silly, but I thought perhaps you could give me a charm. My friend Naudar…a girl at the market gave him a lock of her hair for good luck in the trials. And you’re the only woman I know.”