5

~Avila

"This is a beautiful room," I comment, wandering in.

Roel jumps, whirling around. After breakfast I saw him wandering off down the hallway and decided to follow him. He's the only one here who understands me, and as far as I'm concerned, the only one that can teach me what I want to know.

He rests a frail hand on his chest, letting out a shaky laugh.

"Avila, you frightened me," he murmurs. "How are you feeling?"

I look around the room, impressed.

The ceiling is mostly a dome shaped skylight, letting in a satisfying amount of natural light, right down onto a large old table piled high with books and paper. One wall is smothered by bookshelves laden with books, while the opposite wall has a variety of stained maps depicting unfamiliar lands.

"I'm feeling tired," I admit, letting out a long breath. Being doted on by nurses constantly is starting to get on my nerves.

It's like they think they will find something off about me...nothing has turned up yet.

"It must be strange seeing me when I should be dead," I add. He looked so startled when he saw me, as if he had seen a ghost.

He adjusts the thin frames on his nose. "You never should have been dead. You are still young, with so much life ahead of you."

I wonder if I was afraid to die. Maybe I got sick so suddenly I didn't have time.

"My life seems to have been decided by Crimson," I note, taking the liberty to wander around Roel's strange office space. It looks almost like a classroom, with plenty of seats around the table and a spot at the front of the room for a chalkboard.

He stares at me with large cloudy eyes. "To an extent."

"If I have to be a Princess, then I want to learn about this place, about my old life," I tell him. My head feels a little less foggy today, so there is plenty of space for me to fill with new knowledge.

Roel braces himself against the bookshelf, looking a little wary. "Are you certain you're ready?"

I know what he means. Learning about the world around you is usually a gradual process. The thought is daunting, but I need to learn sometime.

"Sit down," he encourages, brushing dust off one of the seats before gesturing at it. "You are a Princess, in your own right. Although there are many sects of power throughout the territory, your family is the strongest, and exerts its power over the largest amount of land."

I sit down, frowning. I feel like I'm going to need paper and a pencil for this.

"Territory?"

Roel nods, hobbling over to the map on the wall. He picks up a long stick and traces a circle around it.

"This world is split into multiple territories. Each territory is governed by its own politics, and cannot be controlled by any other. We live in Territory Six, where our climate is often spring-like, aiding the wonderful views," he explains, pointing to the territories in turn.

On the map they don't look so big and daunting, but the sheer number of them startles me somewhat. Will I ever see enough of them, learn about enough of them to feel like I really belong in this world?

Or worse, can actually rule in this world?

"Did I travel much?" I ask, my throat drying out uncomfortably.

Roel smiles. "Often. It was your duty to travel the territory in preparation for you to rule one day."

I shudder. I will never be the person I once was. I will never experience what she did, and it's such a depressing thought that a pit opens up in my stomach.

"And now I have to do it all over again," I mutter, defeated.

"Think of it as a blessing. Not many people get to see the same place for the first time twice." Roel adjusts his coat, his aged fingers struggling with one of my buttons.

I drop my head, bumping my forehead against the table. "That hurts my head to think about."

Will I have to do all this soul-searching alone? Will Vade accompany me? I doubt it. When we do marry, I doubt he will want anything to do with me.

I can't imagine a sadder existence...

I look up at him again. "What do you even do here?"

"I work for your parents." He casts his gaze out the window, at the tree beyond it. This one is lush and green, unlike the sickly scented flowering ones from the garden. "I was your teacher, your mentor, Avila. I loved you like my own daughter, and I still do."

My breath exhales through me slowly, a cold, dark chasm of emotion suddenly threatening to swallow me whole.

Oh.

"Does it hurt that I don't remember you," I whisper.

He looks down at his hands, running his thumb along a golden ring engraved with something I cannot see. He swallows thickly, overcome by emotion for a moment.

His eyes are misty when they meet mine again. "It hurt more when we lost you. Having you back is a blessing, regardless of the state of your memory. You will always be the daughter I never had."

His words warm my heart, even if it still bleeds for him. I look at his face and I want nothing more than to remember him, to remember that relationship with him.

I look down at my hands. "You seem like someone I would have loved. Someone I may love again."

With Crimson, I've felt nothing. With Vade, there's a spark of attraction I don't dare answer to, but with Roel, there's a soul connection that goes beyond memory.

Will I have that with my real father? Did I love my real father like I loved Roel? Or was Roel more a father to me than him?

Roel doesn't speak for a long moment. Raising my head, I find him staring at me, his face pale, his gaze apprehensive.

"I shouldn't say this, but I sense something different about you," he states abruptly.

"How so?"

"The way you speak, the way you carry yourself..." He rubs the back of his neck. "That may be because you have lost so many memories that who you were has shifted entirely. Our childhood, our life experiences all make up who we are, and you no longer have that."

I grip either side of my chair. It seems that no one can accept the changes in me, who I've become. At least Roel understands why I've changed, but maybe he won't like the new me...

"Is it such a bad thing if I've changed?" I ask softly.

He shakes his head, although his expression remains grave. "Of course not. Although I must warn you that those close to you know only of the previous you. They may struggle to reconcile this change, which is something you will have to deal with in the future."

In the middle of his sentence, splatters of black spill across my vision. I attempt to blink them away, but pain ricocheting through my head stops me.

Suddenly, against my will, I'm transported into the depths of my memory.

His skin, his hair feels soft beneath my fingertips. His mouth is pressed against mine, our kiss feverish and hungry.

I'm lifted off his lap, his hands strong as they grip the underside of my thighs. Without breaking the kiss, he walks me back until he rests me down on what feels like a bed.

He pulls away, looking down at me.

Somewhere, distantly, reality calls to me. I feel the walls of my mind trapping me in, forcing me to witness this old memory.

To my current mind, nothing is familiar about this man, yet the more I drink in his features, recognition blooms in me.

I know him. Yet, I have no idea who he is.

"You are stunning," he murmurs, his obsidian black hair brushing against my cheek as he leans down to kiss my neck.

"I'm flattered," I giggle.

My hands press against his chest, pushing him away a little. He stares down at me, a wicked smirk on his full lips, his jet black eyes dancing with amusement.

"We should be concentrating," I faux scold him, playfully smacking his tattooed arm. "Time is of the essence remembered.

He tips his head back and groans, disappointed by the thought of returning to whatever we were meant to be concentrating on.

We both sit up, regaining our composure. He settles onto the bed next to me.

The room we are in isn't familiar. It's a bedroom, although the walls are plain, and there's hardly any furniture. Loose clothing is scattered about the room, spilling out of unpacked bags.

"Are you frightened?" he whispers, sobering from his humour.

He's effortlessly handsome, although there's a starkness to his expression that frightens me. Who is this man?

"They are definitely close to figuring it out," I say, sighing. "But I'm not scared of what may need to happen."

I can't scrape my old mind to figure out what plan is being mentioned, but there's a ghost feeling haunting me...I'm burdened by whatever it is. So much so it's staining my usual composure with uncertainty.

The man holds my chin, drawing my attention back to him. "And that is why I love you. You're brave, and you care about all the right things."

All of a sudden, I'm jolted out of the memory.

I lurch forward, my stomach pressing painfully against the edge of the table. Roel is by my side, hands on me, like he was shaking me.

"Avila, are you okay?" He asks frantically, eyes wide with shock, the lenses of his glasses slightly foggy.

"I saw something," I breathe, my head aching suddenly. "I had a memory come back to me."

Roel pulls out the chair next to me, settling into it. He looks both intrigued and terrified. I'm not sure what I looked like while I was experiencing that memory, but it can't have been pleasant.

"What of?" He demands.

"A man...He told me he loved me," I explain. I can see the stranger so clearly in my head. He doesn't live here....

That much I'm certain of.

"Vade?" Roel asks.

I shake my head. "No, he looked nothing like Vade."

Roel leans back a little, stunned, before his expression melts away, replaced by wariness.

"Then perhaps you should consider keeping that to yourself, Miss Avila," he warns quietly.

He doesn't scold me, although I get the feeling this strange man isn't someone positive from my past.

I get the feeling I should listen to Roel, and keep my mouth shut....