Memory (5)
Theorad looked down at the elf without speaking.
Something she has to show me?
He could not guess what this new maid wanted. She did not look as though she were flattering him or inventing an excuse to get close to the master of the house.
And she says there's a garden behind the mansion…
He prided himself on knowing the grounds, but now that he thought about it, the land behind the mansion seemed oddly absent from his memory. Perhaps a walk would be worthwhile.
Unfortunately, he had too much to do. The wedding preparations needed his attention, and he still owed a reply to the imperial household's letter.
It will have to wait.
He shook his head.
“It's a lovely day, and I don't doubt we'd enjoy the walk. But there are family matters I must attend to.”
“Master, I…”
“I'm sorry. Could we go another time?”
The refusal hurt, but the elf could hardly blame him. As far as he knew, she was a maid he'd met that morning. Why should her request take precedence over his family?
But if I wait…
She feared her resolve would not survive another day. His kindness might tempt her back into concealment. She had already found too many ways to justify hiding the past.
She could not afford to postpone the truth.
“It can't wait.”
She drew breath, forcing her voice to remain steady.
“This concerns you too, Master.”
Theorad frowned.
“You speak as though you know me.”
“I do.”
“Then tell me who I am.”
“You are the seventh head of House Deharem. You treat the people of this house as family. And you are engaged to Lady Ashley.”
“Anyone could know those things. Please don't mistake common knowledge for familiarity—”
“And you're looking for a girl who likes pudding.”
Theorad fell silent.
He had never told her that detail. How could a maid he had supposedly just met know it?
“Where did you hear that?”
“That's…”
The elf stopped herself. There was no explanation he would readily understand while the oblivion monster's magic continued to interfere with his recognition. She needed to clear that influence away and restore what it had stolen.
“Come with me,” she said. “Then you'll understand.”
Theorad searched her face. He still had his doubts, but the detail about the pudding had left him no easy reason to dismiss her.
“…Very well.”
Theorad followed her into the garden behind the mansion and stopped in amazement.
Daisies stretched across the grounds, their yellow centers surrounded by pure white petals. The sight seemed unreal.
Daisies were spring flowers. Yet here they bloomed in full vigor despite the autumn air. It was as though time had been held still in this one corner of the estate.
As he watched the blossoms sway, something stirred in his memory.
“This place… Father used to bring me here when I was little. I would listen to his stories. It was one of my favorite places.”
The recollection was startlingly vivid. Fragments that had seemed meaningless began to settle into place.
“Why had I forgotten? Those were happy days. I shouldn't have been able to forget them so completely.”
He looked toward a particular patch of flowers, though nothing there appeared unusual.
“And I don't think Father is all I've forgotten here.”
The elf regarded him in surprise. Had his memory begun to break through the interference because it had been bound to this garden for so long? Or had the barrier she placed here weakened?
It hardly mattered. She had brought him here to reveal it herself.
“Master. Please take my hand.”
Theorad hesitated, then reached out.
Mana flowed from her fingers into his. He startled and tried to pull away, but she held his hand.
“It's all right. I'm only helping you see through a barrier.”
“A barrier?”
The garden changed before his eyes.
Amid the white daisies lay a blackened patch of earth, as though fire had scorched the ground. The place had seemed covered with flowers only a heartbeat earlier. He had not been able to perceive it until she touched him.
“Come,” the elf said.
She led him toward the scorched clearing. He followed, wary but unable to sense any malice from her.
As they walked, she glanced up at him.
“Master… may I ask something?”
“If I can answer.”
“What would you do if someone had committed a terrible wrong?”
“They would have to answer for it.”
“And after they've been punished?”
“That depends. If the wrong was grave enough, I might not be willing to keep them beside me.”
The elf flinched. Her grip loosened, but before she could withdraw her hand, Theorad held it more firmly.
“Still,” he continued, looking ahead, “if someone who had done wrong came to me sincerely seeking to make amends, that would be different. I might forgive them.”
She looked at him, hardly daring to breathe.
“Making amends is difficult. It means facing guilt, overcoming the fear of rejection, and accepting that others may condemn you. I can scarcely imagine what a person must go through to do it honestly. I would have to consider that courage.”
He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.
“Everyone makes mistakes. What matters is how we face them.”
Tears gathered in the elf's eyes. His answer eased her fear, but could not erase it. Could the deceit and selfishness she had shown really be dismissed as an ordinary mistake?
“Yes… You're right, Master.”
They had reached the edge of the scorched ground. Heat shimmered there, but the elf waved a hand and froze the air around it. A snap of her fingers shattered the dome-shaped barrier, scattering fragments of light like broken glass.
The path lay open.
The elf stepped forward without hesitation. Theorad stared after her. A maid he had supposedly met that morning had just broken a powerful magical barrier with a gesture.
“You… Who are you really…?”
The question died when he saw what grew in the center of the blackened clearing.
An edelweiss.
Its pale, woolly leaves and white flower stood alone in the scorched earth, utterly unlike the daisies beyond. Something about it stirred both recognition and sadness.
“I left it here in case I needed it,” the elf said. “Because I believed, somewhere inside, that you couldn't truly be wicked.”
“What do you mean?”
She looked at the flower with a lonely smile.
“I never should have doubted you.”
Kneeling carefully, she picked the edelweiss and returned to him. She was trembling, her eyes bright with tears.
Theorad accepted the flower she offered. There was an unexpected warmth to it.
“Everything is here,” she whispered. “The memories you've lost… and the shame I wanted so badly to hide.”
Her voice threatened to break.
“I'm sorry I've lied to you for so long. You don't have to forgive me.”
A warm light began to glow around her. The edelweiss answered with a golden radiance of its own.
Now there was only the final seal to undo.
She raised her head, holding fast to the courage she had nearly lost.
“Linea. Linea Arpolite.”
Light burst from the flower, filling the clearing. Theorad kept his eyes fixed on her despite the brilliance.
The elf smiled through her tears.
“That's my name.”
A passing breeze lifted Linea's silver hair. Theorad tried to speak, but the light grew too strong. At last he was forced to close his eyes.