“But now . . .” He looked away again. “I feel like I’m in such a weird place. That we’re in such a weird place.” There was a heavy pause before he quietly said, “We’d only just kissed and then—” He snapped his fingers, the sound startling me in contrast with his quiet voice. “—I’m back here and a month has passed.

“At least, in my mind that’s how it plays out,” he went on. “But there’s this feeling that I have that . . . I know you.” His eyebrows pinched as he tried to find the right words. “We went through something intense and strange and traumatic, and even though I don’t remember, I still have these feelings, like faint emotional memories. . . .”

“I think I understand,” I said.

He looked at me hopefully. “You do?”

“Yeah.” I nodded. “I have all these lingering feelings that I can’t always explain.”

“And when I think about you, I feel so worried and helpless.”

“Thanks?” I said uncertainly.

“No, that came out wrong.” He grimaced and shook his head. “I only meant that I cared about you, and our time together deepened that. When we were with the Älvolk, I know they were hurting you, I know I couldn’t do anything to stop it, and I know I don’t want you to go through that again.”

“Neither do I,” I agreed.

“When Dagny mentioned that Bryn wanted you to join her in Fulaträsk because the Queen held her hostage once before . . . I kinda panicked,” he admitted.

“I wasn’t happy when she told me either,” I said. “But she doesn’t sound worried, and you and I didn’t have any trouble when we went to Fulaträsk earlier this summer.”

“We didn’t go with Bryn,” he reminded me quietly. “Who apparently has an antagonistic relationship with the Queen. And you’re still recovering from your last hostage situation.”

“I’m going to a major troll city with Bryn and Elof to visit a friend,” I reasoned. “I think we’ll be safe, and I also think it’s the best place to find the truth about who my father is. Elof still says I’m half-Omte, and if it’s not Indu, the Omte kingdom is the best place to find answers.”

His jaw set as he thought, his eyes staring off into the distance. The Mimirin was just visible above the rooftops. From my front door, we could see the thirteen atriums on the roof of the institution, all of them housing an Ögonen that watched over the citadel.

“Let me come with you,” he said finally.

“What?”

He looked over at me. “I want to go with you to Fulaträsk.”

“What?” I repeated. “What about work?”