“It’s up to you, my dear.” Liatra’s eyes were changing from midnight into starlight. Flecks of silver swirled in her gaze.
Apollo shrugged. “Carpe diem, I always say.”
“No, you don’t. I’ve never heard you say that.” Lilah smirked.
“No, I’m sure I’ve said that so many times. Or maybe it’s ‘veni, vidi, vici,’ I say?”
“Nope, you don’t say that, either.”
Apollo crossed his arms over his wide chest. “Come on, Lilah, I know I say the ‘I came’ part a lot, at least.”
Rake.
I ignored the repartee that continued around me. Would getting my memories back change me so much that I became an entirely different person? Or would they make me more of who I truly was? I chewed my bottom lip. A long history of memories already filled my head. Making room for more seemed impossible, maybe even unwise. But to be able to finally know what Paris meant when he’d described his Helen, to possibly see myself as he did, was too much of a draw. Even if it came with memories of Menelaus, they were my memories, every last one of them.
I took a deep breath. “I want them back. Let’s do it.”
Liatra nodded. “But first, the small matter of payment.”
“That’s my girl.” Apollo laughed.
I took an inventory of my possessions. They were few and far between. “Well, I don’t have much…”
The seer’s gaze fixed on the fabulous, yet garish, ruby that dominated the room.
“Be my guest,” I said. “It’s all yours.” I doubted Paris would mind parting with it, especially given that it was in Desmerada crimson.
“Many thanks.” Liatra tipped her head before holding out her palms, face up. The starfire in her eyes was growing, taking over the midnight completely.
I examined Liatra’s hands. They looked normal—no magic there. Nothing to show the intense power that lay within them. Moments ticked by as my thoughts came in a rush. What would the knowledge do to my relationship with Paris, or even my bond with Artemis and my sisters? Lilah’s elbow to my ribs nudged me from my thoughts.
“You need to know.” Lilah’s familiar, frank gaze was convincing. “And you’re in good hands with Liatra.”
I exhaled a shaky breath and put my palms on Liatra’s. The world fell away, and only a maelstrom of memories was left. They flitted through my mind, like a scene from one of the viewing pools that grew darker the closer it got to the end. A tragedy unfolding in my mind. Me, as a child, in a bright yellow dress, picking flowers with my brothers, Castor and Pollux. Our mother, Leda, trailing behind us, glowing in the sun. “Helen,” Leda called out as I took off through the grove.
Tears welled, the memories so comforting and warm. But then they hazed. Me again, this time naked and bound on an auction block. Vile creatures of all kinds making offers for me, seeking to own me like chattel. Menelaus offering the winning bid. Despair washed over me, the same as I’d felt when he’d claimed me from the block.
I blinked and saw Castor and Pollux, dead at our mother’s feet. Desmerada binding my powers. Then Leda, eventually falling ill and dying after Menelaus had broken me beyond repair. The darkest despair, the thoughts of ending it all.
But then the sun began creeping through the gloom. After my mother’s funeral, I had strayed through the rose garden at Menelaus’s Greek palace. The rose buds were preparing to bloom, their scent already heavy in the air.
I dreamed of escape and thought to end my suffering that very night. Menelaus had no one left to threaten, no one whom I loved now that Leda had passed on to the Fields of Elysium. He couldn’t punish me any longer with threats to my family, and I had no desire to continue living this accursed life. How should I end it? Perhaps jumping from the battlements, perhaps poison…maybe just a simple blade. In any case, I could not fail, could not let Menelaus touch me again.
I stopped in front of a tangle of two rose bushes, joined and intertwined with each other so that I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. Through the thorns, I somehow saw a piece of the sky, brilliant in its blue glory. But the sky moved and emerged from behind the thick leaves. It was an eye—a man’s eye!
Paris. His face like a new day, the sun breaking through and giving me a chance at a life in the light.
My memories skipped along even faster. Paris and I running, sailing across an endless sea to the safety of Troy. We’d been happy there. Perfected in love. But the cloud of Menelaus threatened. The storm of war rained down over us and eventually deluged the city in untold sorrows.
Paris dead in my arms. Menelaus’s soldiers. A flight of doves. My hand flew to my neck. The red mark. Where I’d driven my dagger deep into my body to finally escape from the demon king.