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"I'm sorry," I repeated. "How old were you?"

"Eleven." He looked away, remembering.

The space behind my eyes tingled with a strange pressure. I saw a freak storm blowing out of nowhere—a great wave, swamping the pleasure-boat as it returned from Eisheth's sacred isle. Cries and shouting, guards thrashing in the water, stripping off their swords and boots. They were rallying to someone. A white hand sinking below the waves. Still, they rallied.

One pair of arms around me, keeping me afloat. A ragged voice in my ear uttering encouragement.

Only one.

"You were there," I whispered. "Your father tried to save you."

"Yes." Raphael rose abruptly and walked away from the table. "He did save me. The effort cost him his life. How did you know?"

I rubbed my temples. "I saw it."

He didn't turn around. "More magic?"

"I don't know," I murmured. "There's an old woman, Nemed, among us. She can breathe in your memories and swallow them. Once they're gone, they're lost forever. But only if you let her."

Raphael's back was rigid. "Do you reckon she'd take mine?"

I went to him and wrapped my arms around his waist, pressed my cheek between his shoulder blades. "Who were the guards trying to save?"

"My mother." He drew a long, shuddering breath. "The Lady of Marsilikos. Then, when they lost her, my sister. The heir. Her, they were able to save."

My sister the heir.

The memory of Cillian's voice made me shiver. "The eldest?"

"No." Raphael said softly. "She's younger than me. Eleanore. Nine, when it happened. But Marsilikos was founded by Eisheth herself. From time out of mind, it has been ruled by a Lady. There are no male heirs."

"Oh," I said. "I see."

He turned in my arms, hands rising to take my shoulders in a hard grip. "How did we get here?" His long lashes were damp with tears. "I've never talked to anyone about that day, not even Jehanne. Who are you to draw the very memories from my head?"

"Myself." There was a tremor in my voice. "I don't know, Raphael. It's never happened before. I'm sorry."

"No. No, don't be." He took another deep breath. "It's all right. It's only that it's a bitter memory as well as a hurtful one. If just one of the guards had gone to help my father that day…" Raphael shook his head. "It's not their fault. They had their orders. Still, I cannot help but wonder."

My heart ached for him. "Of course you can't."

"Well." He let go of my shoulders and dashed one hand across his eyes. "Today should be a joyous one for you, Moirin. I'm sorry to cast an unexpected pall over it."

"You're helping me find my father," I said. "Mayhap we might do it in your own father's memory."

Raphael nodded. "That's a kind thought. Thank you."

In the carriage, he was quiet and withdrawn. I left him to his thoughts, not wanting to trouble him further. Although I would have liked to gaze on the City, I kept the curtains closed and instead pondered the mystery of what had transpired between us, wondering if I were on my way to acquiring Nemed's gift. Raphael's memories had been so clear, so vivid. I could feel the boat pitching on its side and the shock of the cold water, its weight dragging at my sodden clothing. Salt in my mouth, terror and disbelief in my heart.

How did one swallow such a thing?

I had no idea.

Somewhat to my surprise, the Temple of Naamah dedicated to star-crossed lovers was in a humble part of the City. It was a graceful little building of white marble set like a pearl in the midst of inelegant wooden residences. I remarked on it to Raphael.

"Oh, yes." He roused himself. "You don't know the story behind it?"

"No."

"You'll like it." He smiled at me. "I'll tell you on the ride home."

There was a woman in the adjacent building stringing laundry on a ramshackle balcony. She barely spared us a glance.

"This is the Tsingani quarter," Raphael said in my ear as we approached the door to the temple. "They don't gossip outside their own circles."

"Lucky for you," I remarked.

"Moirin." On the doorstep, he halted