A knock came from her bedroom door, and she threw back the covers and stomped to the door, getting ready to face Kellan, except it was not Kellan in front of her.

Her father’s soft eyes met hers, and she stared down to see a tray of chocolate biscuits.

‘I may or may not have heard a little argument up here,’ he said in a gravelly voice.

She let out a small laugh that sounded more like a scoff.

‘I don’t know if I can beat him in a fight, but—’

‘No, he wasn’t mad at me.’

‘That’s a relief, I suppose.’ He placed the tray on her barren desk. ‘I only wanted to check if you were okay.’

‘I’m fine,’ she said. He made a turn back to her door. ‘It came back.’

He stopped in his tracks.

‘My magic came back, but only for a little while,’

‘That’s a good sign. The tea is working.’

‘Do you think my memories will come back too?’

He shook his head in a way that reminded him of herself.

‘I’m not sure, pumpkin,’ her father said. ‘I haven’t been sure about anything these days.’

She cocked her head, contemplating his words. ‘Was there a specific memory you wanted back?’

Bethan nodded. She wanted so many back, mainly the ones of Dana in her last moments, one she needed more than anything, one that was holding her back from her feelings, one that was making her scared.

‘That summer in your first year at Hadwicke’s, Circe stayed at our house for a few days before she visited her family in Erisso,’ Henry said.

Bethan inched closer.

‘Remember when I lost my wedding ring, and she gave me that potion to help me where I last had them.’

‘That was for missing objects.’

She was diminished.

But he shook his head, holding up a finger to let him finish. ‘Yes, it’s a location potion.’ He took the biscuit from the tray. ‘But, once you ingest it and think of the object lost, the memory of your last encounter with it will show up in your dreams.’

The fight she had with Tharin was the last time she was ever in his apartment. Excitement flurried through her.

‘I think you have some brewing to do; your mother is asleep, so try to be quiet,’ he said, leaving through the door.

She texted Circe for the recipe, and as she waited for a reply, she thought of an object residing in Tharin’s apartment.

Thinking back to that time was difficult; his apartment had always unsettled her because it lacked the feminine charm hers did. He used to make himself at home in her apartment whenever he came over. But whenever she went over there, she felt like a guest who stayed too long.