Chapters (92)
They told me they sent you back to stay with Hanna’s family in Förening. I hope that’s true, and Dagny thinks it is, but it’s hard to feel reassured when I can’t remember the past month. Can you remember anything?
For me, it’s like a terrifying black hole where my memory should be.
One of the last things I remember clearly is kissing you in Isarna. And I hate that I don’t know if we kissed again, or if it was the last time, or if I did anything stupid to mess things up.
I don’t know if I should’ve said that. I don’t know if you even remember that. I hope you do.
The meeting with the Mästares turned into an interrogation, which all got very frustrating, very fast. I don’t think Amalie believed us that we couldn’t remember anything. Someone finally had to tell her to knock it off after she asked me if I could remember anything about Áibmoráigi for the ninth time in a row.
Elof started pressing about the Ögonen, and he was talking to Dagny about some charm or concoction they can work up in the lab. He’s determined to recover our memories.
He’s been running all kinds of tests. He took so much blood from me I nearly passed out. He believes that the Älvolk did something to us, that they must’ve wanted something from us to hold us for so long.
Did they tell you the Älvolk were the ones that held us hostage? That your father, Indu, was the one behind it? I’m sorry if they didn’t.
I’m sorry if they did. This must be so tough for you.
I know you want answers, but I don’t think you should try to contact Indu. They’re calling him a terrorist, and he’s banned from all five kingdoms. If he returns to Isarna, he’ll be arrested on sight. He’s not somebody you want to be involved with.
I wish I could talk to you. I have to head out to get Brueger from the dog sitter, and Dagny is heading back to the Mimirin to work on something with Elof. I’ll be in and out for a while, but I’d still like if you could call me when you have the chance.
I called him, and then Dagny. When neither of them answered, I decided to try any number I could remember. Fortunately, I’d called Dagny down at the lab enough that I knew the number by heart.
“Troglecology Department, Docent Elof Dómari’s lab, this is Dagny Kasten speaking,” she answered in her formal, clipped way.
“Dag, it’s me, Ulla.”