“Ugh! ‘Please remember…’ But remember what? What’s happening?!” Harper throws her dagger, watching it slice mid-blade.

Two days since that boy broke in. Two days since she started to recall the night she woke up, yet the elusive details slip away each time she reaches for them.

She shudders, closing her eyes as her voice screams in her mind, the icy touch of chains wrapping around her limbs. Maybe these memories are hidden for a reason…

But no! She must know what he meant. Somehow, she knows him—not distantly, but intimately, like lovers.

She can’t forget the devastation on his face when she said she didn’t remember him.

Just as her frustration peaks, there’s a rough knock at her door.

“Come in,” she says quietly.

Her father, the infamous general, strides in, annoyance etched on his face.

“You wanted to talk,” he states.

Harper sits on her bed, her anger fading. “Yes.”

“Get on with it. I’m busy.”

Deep breath. It’s now or never. “How do I know that boy from two nights ago?”

He laughs, clearly amused. “Know him? You just met him.”

Harper stands, wanting to confront him despite their height difference. “You’re lying. The maids are horrible gossipers. But I want to hear it from you. I want the truth.”

He sighs, evaluating her. “What did he tell you?”

“That we were going to escape together. That we were close.”

He studies her, then says calmly, “You must not trust him.”

“Like I should trust you?” She points her dagger at him, feeling the weight of his deceit. “You WILL tell me the truth, or I’ll leave with him.”

He runs a hand down his face. “Put the knife down for the sake of the stars.”

“Father you won’t be able to stop me. Not now. Not ever. Something is wrong and I will get to the bottom of it.”

The general paces for a few seconds before releasing a frustrating sigh, “I was afraid his presence might break the spell.”

“What?”

He opens the door, and guards enter with familiar chains. Harper looks to her father, seeing only disappointment.

“Father, what’s this?”

He motions for the guards. “I’ll make you obey. If I must wipe your mind a hundred times, I will.”

The guards lunge, locking her limbs despite her struggles.

“Maybe one day, daughter,” he says.

He produces a vial of purple liquid and a cloth. Pressing it over her mouth and nose, darkness envelops her.