Chapter 3

I followed Silas into the bedroom.

That grayish-blue remnant spirit drifted in silently right behind us.

I snapped my gaze away, my throat tight and aching. Silas walked over to the bed, effortlessly pulling back the covers and patting the pillow on my side.

"Come on, Evie. Lie down." He turned to look at me, strands of messy blond hair falling across his forehead.

I moved stiffly, climbing into bed beside him. He reached out and flicked off the main overhead light, leaving only the warm, orange glow of a magical crystal lamp.

"Evie," he murmured, rolling onto his side and propping his head up on one hand to look at me. "What's wrong tonight? Is something on your mind?"

"No." I stared at the intricate patterns on the ceiling. "Just exhausted from work at the Guild."

He sighed, his large, warm hand enveloping mine completely. "If you're tired, then take a break. You could even quit. I can take care of you."

His palm was burning hot against my skin; his voice was low and meltingly tender. Yet, my heart felt like it was being crushed in an invisible vise. In my peripheral vision, that wisp of a grayish-blue remnant spirit was staring despairingly at our joined hands.

I took a deep breath.

If normal memories couldn't crack his facade, I had to take extreme measures.

I sat up abruptly, pulling a letter opener from the nightstand drawer. Its blade was forged from pure Cold Iron.

In our world, Cold Iron was the fatal weakness of all fae and changelings. A single touch was enough to make them experience the agonizing pain of their soul being burned alive.

"Silas, do you remember this?" I held the letter opener up in front of his face.

"Of course I do. I gave it to you for your eighteenth birthday."

Without a single second of hesitation, he reached out and took the Cold Iron blade right out of my hand!

He didn't flinch. He didn't even tremble.

Not only did he firmly grip the lethal metal, he even gently brushed his thumb along the hilt.

"I saved up three whole months' salary to buy this enchanted Cold Iron blade back then. I had to trek to the deepest part of the black market in Diagon Alley, terrified someone else was going to snatch it up first." He smiled at me.

"Then do you remember what you wrote on the parchment note you left in the gift box?" I pressed, unable to stop the slight tremble in my voice.

"'You like collecting antiques. Keep this for self-defense. Happy birthday.'" He let out a self-deprecating laugh. "Honestly, what I really wanted to write was 'I love you.' But I was too much of a coward."

"And how did I reply?"

"You didn't." He set the letter opener down, his gaze so tender it was suffocating. "But the next day, you stuffed a whole box of Honeydukes candy into my Potions textbook. I was so thrilled I didn't hear a single word of the lecture and nearly blew up my cauldron."

Spot on. Even that tiny detail about almost blowing up the cauldron was flawless.

He slid the blade out slightly, pointing to two incredibly tiny runes carved into the metal.

"Waiting for you," he murmured, reading the runes' meaning. "I actually sliced my hand open on the enchanted carving knife trying to engrave those words."

He held up his index finger. Right there on the pad of his finger was a faded, old scar.

"Then... why have you never used it?" My whole body went cold; my emotions were on the verge of a total breakdown.

"You said you couldn't bear to." He stared deeply into my eyes. "You said we had to save this blade for our wedding day, to open all the congratulatory letters from our family and friends."

I slammed my eyes shut. I couldn't bear to look at his hand gripping that Cold Iron a second longer. I snatched the letter opener back and tossed it into the drawer like a branding iron.

"You have a great memory." I lay back down, burying my face in the shadows of the pillow. "Remembering things from so many years ago."

He chuckled low in his throat, reaching out to stroke my long hair. "When it comes to you, Evie... what don't I remember?"

Right. He remembered everything. A flawless memory.

"Since your memory is so perfect, let's test it. Do you remember when we were kids, playing down by the Charles River?"

He thought for a moment. "I remember. That summer in Boston was brutally hot, and you absolutely insisted on going down to the river to catch water sprites."

"And then you fell into the water, and I had to pull you out. You were so pathetic." I kept my eyes locked on him, refusing to miss even the slightest micro-expression.

This was a deadly trap.

The person who fell into the river that year was me! He was the one who pulled me ashore! If he just went along with my story, it would prove he was a liar with fragmented memories!

He clearly paused. Then, he suddenly reached out and flicked my forehead in exasperation.

"Evie, are you dreaming? You were the one who fell in! I was the one who jumped in to fish you out!" He sighed. "You choked on a bunch of water and sat on the riverbank crying like a muddy little monkey. I couldn't get you to stop crying no matter what I did."

I opened my mouth, but the words died in my throat. I couldn't argue a single syllable.

He was right. Again.

I froze completely. My trap had been flawlessly dismantled.

"Go to sleep. Stop overthinking." He sighed, extending a long arm and wrapping me tightly in his warm embrace. "You've been acting weird all day. Did you catch a chill in the wind?"

His chin rested naturally on top of my head, his arm securely around my waist. Even the pressure of his hug was exactly the same as it had been for the last five years.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, burying my face in his chest. I drank in the comforting scent and warmth of him, my voice shaking violently. "I think I'm just exhausted."

"It's okay. Just rest," he said softly.

I slowly closed my eyes. He shifted, pulling me even closer out of pure habit.

I opened my eyes again. My gaze drifted over his broad shoulder.

That grayish-blue remnant spirit was still huddled in the shadows by the vanity. Just silently, intensely staring at me and this perfect man.

Who was I supposed to believe?