The only thing heavier then chains were broken hearts. Feyla lay on the cool floor of the small, bare room she'd been thrown in. She curled her knees to her chest and held her wrists against her heart. The frigid metal of the cuffs dug into her skin but she was too exhausted to be bothered by it. Sandrina and Mydel had been taken elsewhere and she could only hope and pray that they hadn't been killed.

Sedgewick.

A shuddering sob wracked her chest and escaped as a wordless cry. Her eyes stung but her tears had dried up hours ago and left behind the throbbing headache now beating against her temple. Sandrina had been right. Everything she'd tried to fix had only become worse.

Her failures pounded against her to the time of her aching head. Desden was free and close to corrupting his brother. The Magic Ministry had lost its creator and his second-in-command. The Healer's Guild was going up in flames.

Maybe Mother's right. I can't handle anything myself.

Who was she to think that she could be the hero, that she could don a white cloak and stitch up her problems like a wound? She wasn't even capable of saving the man she loved. Her own mother didn't even trust her.

All her life she had fought to prove that she was smart, capable, lovable.

And all she'd done was show everyone the opposite.

Feyla rested her head back on the floor and whimpered tearlessly.

Mageus's head was pounding.

Puzzles. Magic. Spells. These he pulled to the forefront of his mind. He carved another line of runes into the massive disc in front of him.

Soft hands pressing the book away. Hands tracing the planes of his face, pulling him closer so she could—

Mageus gave a violent shake of his head. He gripped the carving tool in his palm and cut another section of ugly, jagged lines into the essantium. Lines meant for channeling black magic. They marred the rest of his perfect spell, but Carrow has refused to give him the additional time he needed to figure out the true answer to the puzzle instead of crudely filling in the blanks with black magic.

He narrowed his eyes as he reached a particularly delicate section.

Eyes. Deep, blue-green eyes wet with tears. Eyes lidded with longing and desire. Eyes churning like a wild sea.

"I've come to save you."

Mageus snorted. He didn't want saving.

"You're more than a moment..."

No, no, he was not going to think of that sappy—

"...you're my forever."

The tool slipped and Mageus cursed. A useful piece of vocabulary to remember. Stupid phrase, stupid distraction, stupid woman.

Wild thing, his mind hummed the term in correction.

"Feyla," he whispered the forbidden name under his breath. Tasting the way it sounded. Remember the way she'd tasted when they...

He curled his hand into a fist and pressed it hard against his chest. Ghosts of pain clawed at him with cold fingers. Some forgotten wound still festering despite his lack of memories.

The door to the inner courtyard creaked open. Mageus brightened the orange orb of light he had floating above him and turned.

Carrow stepped across the courtyard, his worn black boots clicking against the broken stone. The young wizard stopped beside him and ran his fingers down the disc. It rested on a pedestal and was held up by four metal prongs that crept up like vines around it. "Is it finished?" he asked softly.

"Nearly." Mageus stared hard at the disc again.

"And did you make the addition?" he asked.

"I did." Mageus tapped his finger against the beginning of a row of runes near the outer part of the disc. "May I ask why you altered your original design?"

Carrow's fingers danced over the disc reverently, his dark eyes skipping across the lines of the spell he'd been trying to perfect for years. The spell Mageus had just finished. "No."

Mageus's ear twitched. The puzzle was practically solved and Carrow was refusing to give him another curiosity to occupy himself. "What," he asked, not fearfully but with a crispness that demanded an answer. "Am I to do when you are finished?"

Desden Carrow didn't turn. "When the spell is cast, I'll be done with you. What do you want to do?"

What did he want?

Warmth crept up his neck at the memory of the woman again. Since he'd awoken, he hadn't cared to think beyond the intriguing puzzle thrust into his hands. But she had been every bit as enthralling as the magic before him. If he hadn't been so certain that her kiss was a trick, he might have lost himself in the wild sea of her eyes and forgotten the name he'd given himself.

The ache in his chest throbbed at the thought. Puzzle or no puzzle, the woman still prompted pain. Why did he yearn for what pained him?

Mageus didn't answer Desden's question, so the wizard spoke again. "I don't care what you do once we're done, mage. My fight's never been against you. But get the spell done first."

"What will happen to the three I captured?" he asked, unable to stop himself.

"That's not your problem," Carrow snapped. "Finish the spell and nothing else will matter." He jerked his fingers back from the disc and stalked away.

Mageus worked in silence once again but his mind remained in motion. The puzzle that had kept him here was minutes from being finished and then what was he to do? And what would Carrow do with the woman and the mages when he was done? His hands shook while he carved the last line into the essantium. "I've come to save you." Why? He wasn't in danger. But she might be, he thought. Sweat spiked into a cold flash across his neck. He set the carving tool down and began making his way away from Carrow and towards her.

The click of the lock lingered in her ear longer than the sound. Feyla bolted upright and scrambled to her feet. Survival instincts took over, sending her mind running a thousand miles a minute. Her hands were still cuffed in essantium but the lack of mobility was worse than the magic blocking. The little she knew wouldn't have helped her, but no arm mobility meant no way for her to block magic.

A rare curse crossed her lips but the word kept down the fear rising to choke her throat. She dashed to the doorframe and raised her arms up to bash the cuffs down on the head of whoever entered.

A figure entered, one just short enough for her to get a good hard blow to his— "Sedgewick!" she cried out. Hope boiled together with fear. Had he remembered her? Or had Carrow sent him only so she could die by the hand of the one who'd been stolen from her?

She didn't have to even lower her arms before he clamped one hand over her mouth and the other on her wrists. "Are you mad? Do you want the whole house to know I'm here?"

Feyla shook her head from behind his hand. His skin smelled like essantium shavings and magic which sped her heart up even more.

"Good." He peeled his hand off. "I need to ask you something, Wild Creature."

"What?" her voice croaked from crying.

Sedgewick paused. He released her wrists and rubbed at his chest, refusing to meet her eyes. "When I...remembered you, were we happy?"

The words slid into her chest like a knife. Feyla was thrust back to that short time ago when she had first lied to Sedgewick. The trust, the sweet concern that had been in his eyes. He'd been happy then. If she had agreed with him, if she had just had the courage to stop and tell her mother no, would he still be?

He didn't remember her betrayal. He didn't know her anymore, and yet he'd defied Carrow to come see her. If she said yes, would he let her go? Would he go with her? A foggy plan shimmered at the edge of her mind, taunting her with the ways she could still set this all right.

It wouldn't be the same. They'd lose their history together and without the rest of his memories, Sedgewick couldn't be the Minister of Magic. He'd have to do something else. Something safer? Something that Mother wouldn't hate—

"I'm trying to fix him... Fix everyone."

Desden's past words awoke with that thought. Was this how he felt? That his world would all be made right if he could just say the right word or cast the right spell?

"We're the same," the ghost of his voice echoed again.

Desden has said that to her and she'd been self-righteous enough to think he'd been wrong.

No. She was done lying. Done struggling to mend things that didn't want to remain whole. Done fighting to fix the opinions of people who didn't accept her. And done hurting the man in her life who did.

"We weren't." And that whisper rang louder than every lie she'd told.

Sedgewick tilted his chin, a grim smugness tugging at his lips. "And yet you called me your forever."

"You are!" she insisted and the word rang just as true as her last ones. "You are, Sedgewick Alverdyne. I just lost sight of that. I got so focused on making people who shouldn't matter love me that I forgot to cherish the one who did." The tears she couldn't find earlier came to her now. They blurred her vision until only Sedgewick was still visible. "And I lied and I hurt you. I told myself that I wasn't being selfish but I was."

For the first time since Sedgewick had put the treasured necklace on her, Feyla removed it. The dim light glinted off the orange gem and set fire to the flower-shaped swirl within that Sedgewick had said reminded him of her. She could have been content with this everbloom. But now she would keep neither. Feyla took his free hands in her bound ones and pressed the necklace into them. "You gave me your heart and I promised to cherish it. I didn't. I'm sorry."

Sedgewick wasn't smirking anymore. His guarded eyes shifted between her and the necklace. Tears gathered at the corners of them without memories of shame or repression to keep them forced inward. His long, pale fingers curled around the necklace and clutched it to his chest. "That was the pain," he whispered, breath catching in realization. "The pain I could still feel."

The sharp, electric scent of magic sparked in the air, but Sedgewick hadn't cast anything. He grimaced, his features twisting in pain.

"Sedgewick!" Feyla reached for him instinctively.

Sedgewick snatched up her bound hands, the necklace still crushed in his own. "Feyla," he said her name like one who knew it best.

She didn't have time to smile before a man's arm dragged her away.

******************

Author's Note: And I'm finally back! This chapter gave me so many issues and I'm still not happy with it, but it's time to let it go. Apologies for the cliffhanger. #SorryNotSorry

This song isn't a perfect fit but I love it's message of letting go and moving forward. Feyla's been clinging onto things for the whole book and now at last she's letting them go.

But who grabbed Feyla? What will happen with her and Sedgewick? Let me know in the comments!