Page 72 of Lucifer's Mirror
“Another of the lies your father would like everyone to believe. Though I can’t create the mirrors myself. I had help. But the magic wasn’t enough to hide her completely. She’s hard to hide from those who seek her; she draws them to her. Eventually, they found her—I knew that would happen. So did the men who chose to give up their lives to keep her safe. Her guardian would use the spell they’d been given to send her on to the next, and then they perished. And so on, until Khendril, the last of my guardians.”
“So, he died protecting her?” He sounds incredulous. Like, what’s so special about me? I think he’d rather have his brother back. And I admit—that hurts.
“Yes, but the spell must have been interrupted. She was lost. I thought she’d perished with Khendril.” She turns her attention to me. “What do you remember?” she asks.
“Nothing. I woke up three years ago. The only thing I had on me was the pendant. I don’t know anything else. Not who I am, where I came from, Khendril. I certainly don’t know where this Lucifer’s Mirror is.”
“And they called you Amber. Very apt.”
I presume she knows my real name. I purse my lips and force out the question. “Please tell me… who am I?”
I hold my breath waiting for her to answer. She looks me in the eyes, and I see pity there. “I can’t.”
Chapter 34
When I Still Don’t Know Who I Am
NotthefreakinganswerI was hoping for.
I want to scream or cry. I thought…
What did I think? That I was going to get all the answers and live happily ever after?
Zayne reaches across under the table and squeezes my thigh. That almost pushes me over the edge, and I sniff and blink back a tear. I look up and find they are all watching me. I can’t take their pity. I catch Khaosti’s gaze. There’s no pity there. He’s no doubt thinking what a whining little wimp I am and that I’m not worth anyone sacrificing their life for.
I just feel so… let down. I was sure I would find out the truth here. Now I’m no longer certain that I even want to know.
Except that’s not true.
I take a moment to compose myself. I’m not going to break down in front of Khaosti, however much I want to. Nope, not happening. I square my shoulders. “Just tell me one thing,” I say.
“If I can, I will,” she replies, and I believe her.
“Do you know who I am?”
She gives a small nod.
I grit my teeth as anger sizzles through me. Better than feeling pathetic, anyway. “Then why the fuck can’t you tell me?” I take a deep breath. “Please, I need to understand.”
She’s silent for a moment, then she gives me a small nod. “Okay, this one thing, then you eat and sleep. Tomorrow is a new day, and we’ll talk more then. But you’re tired, and I’m in need of some thinking time. This has come as a surprise to me. A wonderful surprise, but still, I need to decide how to move forward and what to do about you all.”
She pours herself some more wine while she considers what to say. “When you were a baby, you were given some knowledge. It was transferred to your memory.”
“The location of Lucifer’s Mirror?” Khaosti says.
“Among other things. It was information that was rightfully yours.” I want to scream at her—why? But she’s already continuing, “But now, only you have that knowledge. So while I can tell you who you are, it won’t help you retrieve those memories. And we need them.”
She studies me for a minute, then continues, “You need to want those memories more than anything. You need to dig deep inside and retrieve them for yourself. Only then will you remember the things you need to know. Otherwise, they will be lost forever.”
It makes sense, but all the same, frustration wells up inside me. And disappointment. And anger. All bubbling and ready to overflow. It’s not as if I haven’t been freaking trying to remember for the last three years. My hands fist at my side, and I grind my teeth. Does she really think I’ve just been accepting my memory loss?
“Calm down, princess,” Zayne murmurs. “There’s smoke coming out of your ears. It’s not helping.”
He’s right. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, counting my breaths as my therapist taught me, feeling them slow. When I open my eyes, they’re all still looking at me with varying expressions.
Thanouq and Therion look intrigued. Zayne looks concerned. Winter appears sad. Khaosti, I can’t read. I suspect he’s purposefully keeping his expression blank. The Crone—I really can’t keep calling her that. “What is your name?” I ask.
“Hecate.”
