“You can see my magic?” Angus asks.

  “I see it!”

  Suddenly there were three of the small fireballs and they began to be juggled in the air.

  “I didn’t know you could juggle.” I said giggling.

  “So, you can see them.” Angus states, sounding impressed.

  “Can Izzy make fireballs too?” I ask, curiously.

  “Nope, I cannot control fire. My magic is a bit more subtle than that. Also, I am not very good at using it.” Izzy says matter of factly. “Brother, care to aid me in a demonstration?”

  “Just don’t make me do anything stupid.” He replies dryly.

  Suddenly, I see a pink aura spring to life from the area Izzy where is sitting. Slowly, a shaft of pink extends out of it, wavering slightly. It reaches over to where I know Angus is sitting, around the level that I estimate his head to be, and then I see the shaft spread as if it hit a wall before sinking into the object it struck.

  Angus collects my hands in his and I see the pink encompassing his head move closer to me.

  “My love,” I hear Angus start to say. “You are more beautiful to me than the morning sun reflected in dew on the loveliest of roses.”

  I feel a bright blush rising on my face.

  What is he doing?

  To my side, I hear Izzy giggling before a pink haze fills my vision.

  “Every day, my love for you blooms anew, brighter and with more passion than the last.”

  Angus continues.

  Seriously, what is up with him? And why do I feel as if my heart is caught in my chest.

  I feel my breathing get heavy. One of his hands rise to cup my jaw, pulling me forward slightly.

  “I know that we are to be wed in but a few years’ time, yet the urge to taste to dew of your lips grows heavily upon mine heart.” He says moving close to my face. I can feel his breath upon me and smell his scent around me. “Let mine lips taste yours but one time, and let my tongue drink deeply of thy piquancy.”

  He leans in and kisses me deeply, his tongue darting into my mouth catching me by surprise. A pink haze surrounds, making me feel giddy and tingly. The warm softness of his lips against mine, his tongue dancing with mine, it is too much and before I realize what I am doing, I reciprocate.

  So, this is what kissing a boy feels like. I feel so strange all over.

  I lift my free hand to wrap around the back of his head, holding him in place and I kiss him again. Suddenly he pulls away and my face flushes with embarrassment. I lean back in my seat, breathing heavily and cover my face, trying to hide my mortification.

  “Izzy,” Angus says, an razors edge to his voice. “I said do not make me do anything stupid.”

  “I didn’t.” She protested. “I only pushed you to express your feelings toward Beri properly, everything after that first declaration was all you riding the wave I started, but you could have stopped it if you really wanted to. Plus, you know I can’t make people do anything they don’t already want to do.”

  I can imagine a huge grin on her face as she talks. I wonder to myself if she looks anything like I imagine.

  I feel Angus’s hand gently grab mine and pull them away from my face.

  “Are you alright Beira?” He asks apologetically. “My behavior was most unbecoming of me. Even if it did have a little help, I apologize for my mouth getting away from me.”

  “I-I'm n-n-not complaining.” I say hastily, and quietly add, “It w-w-was n-nice.”

  What the hell am I saying? Why did I admit that out loud?

  Off to the side Izzy giggles again.

  I feel my face flush anew with embarrassment and I turn away from him in hopes he will not see my blush.

  Get a grip, girl. It was only a kiss. I hardly even know this guy, not that I’m opposed to getting to know him better, that is. Just calm down, he is probably as embarrassed as I am.

  Angus clears his throat and Izzy quiets down.

  “So, erm, Beira,” He clears his throat again. “Were you able to see anything when Izzy, um, did that?”

  I nod and describe what I saw up to the point of Angus moving closer to me.

  “So, you can see magical energies,” he muses. “But you do not know anything about magic itself…”

  I look in his direction apologetically.

  “Beri, do you remember what you look like?” Izzy asks randomly.

  I start to shake my head no, but then remember the girl I was shown in the weird dream with the brat.

  “Yes, I think so.” I say nodding. “Aside from the obvious stuff that I can feel like my hair being curly, that I’m skinny, or that I’m a girl. I think I have light blue hair and eyes? And my skin is fair? I think?”

  “You are correct!” Izzy replies in delight. “Now, you are a noble which means you can use magic. If you don’t remember what type, what would you assume based on your hair color?”

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  “Water? Maybe?” I ask before stating, “Water is blue.”

  “Not bad reasoning, Beira.” Angus replies. “You are close, but somewhat wrong.”

  “It’s ice, Beri.” Izzy says before continuing in a deep voice that makes it sound as if she is trying to be an adult man, “You are the ice queen.”

  Izzy breaks into giggles.

  “Ice?” I ask.

  “Yes, ice. You control the opposing element to me.” Angus explains. “Would you like to try and access your magic? I can walk you through a basic exercise, if you like.”

  I nod

  “Okay. Since you appear to have no knowledge of how to do this, it may take time to come back to you, so please, don’t get frustrated easily.” He says calmly.

  “O-okay.” I say, nodding again.

  “Now, put your right hand out palm up and visualize in your mind, all of the coldness of the air being drawn to the palm of your hand, pulled in by your own energy.” His voice taking on an instructorial tone. “You should be able to see the energy if you are doing it right and you will also notice the air around you grow colder.”

  I try to follow his directions and visualize ice being drawn to my hand but no matter how hard I focus, nothing happens. I must have been making a face as I strain to make something, anything happen because Angus suddenly says

  “It’s ok, Beira, if you can’t get it to work. You look like the veins are going to pop out of your forehead so please, take a break for now.”

  Hearing the concern in his voice, I put my hand down to my lap and stop trying to force coldness into it. I hang my head, disappointed in my lack of ability since I can literally see how it works for them.

  “Don’t worry, Beri,” Izzy said cheerfully, “I’m sure it will come back to you in time.”

  “And don’t worry about the face I said you were making,” Angus chimed in. “Izzy still makes that face when she uses her magic and she has been using it for years.”

  “Hey!” Izzy protests loudly.

  “Thank you, both of you.” I reply, looking up and smiling softly while trying to make my soft voice sound cheery. “I appreciate your trying.”

  How do I explain to them that I will likely never be able to use magic like Beira could, or for that matter, that the Beira they knew is gone permanently.

  I sigh and hang my head again.

  The rest of the morning passes uneventfully. Angus and Izzy keep the conversation flowing while I interject comments here and there as I try to stay an active participant despite not really being able to follow it fully. Most of the topics seem to surround various members of the nobility whose names are meaningless to me. Angus provides more politically relevant subjects which I try, and fail, to absorb while Izzy shares tidbits of gossip, usually pertaining to noble girls around our age. Before I realize it, the morning has passed and one of the servants comes to inform us that lunch has been prepared.

  Angus takes my hand and leads me back to the dinning hall with Izzy humming happily behind us as we pass through the halls. Upon my arrival, we are greeted by my father and mother as Angus guides me to my place at the table. Upon making sure I am safely seated in my chair; I hear him step back. He thanks my father, on behalf of both himself and his sister, for the chance to see and spend the morning with me before addressing me.

  “Beira, I will come back to visit soon and check in on you to see how you are recovering.” He says, taking my right hand in his and lifting it gently. I feel his warm breath on the back of my hand as he kisses it softly before releasing it.

  I hear my father clear his throat.

  “And don’t worry about whether or not you can remember the times we have shared until now, just look at it as a chance to get to know one another all over again. If your memory comes back, that would be wonderful, but don’t stress yourself out over it either.

  His voice takes on a formal tone, “Duke Braemar, Dutchess, I take my leave. Keep my fiancé safe on behalf of myself and the kingdom.”

  With that I hear him turn and leave the room. There is a pause and I hear Izzy say goodbye along with a promise to return soon. I hear the door to the dining hall close and my father clears his throat once again.

  “Did you have a good morning with the Prince and Princess, Lass?” He asks in his rough voice but with a soft edge to it.

  “Yes, Daddy, I did.” I reply.

  It still feels odd to refer to this stranger as my parent but I know that given the circumstances, he is and I just need to keep referring to him as such until it comes naturally to me. Same with the Dutchess, my mother.

  Time will breed familiarity. I assure myself mentally as I sigh internally.

  As we eat, I tell my parents some of the topics we had talked about in the library, like the skills I had “retained” after the events that led to my coma, and I point out the holes in my knowledge about the world that I am now in. I carefully avoid langue that would indicate that I thought of myself as anyone other than their daughter so that I don’t upset them any more than they likely already were. The Dutchess suggests getting my tutors to come and reteach me the basic knowledge a young lady of my status is expected to know.

  I have personal tutors? Just goes to show what money and status can get you in this world, I guess.

  I sigh again, this time out loud, as I feel weariness weighing on me from having to keep mentally checking myself to make sure I don’t say the wrong thing.

  The Duke agrees with my mother about the tutor but also clearly noticed my sigh as well as the exhausted look I know I have on my face despite my attempts to look attentive.

  “How about we end lunch here and you can go get some rest?” He asks.

  It takes me a brief second to realize he is addressing me.

  “Yes, I would like that, Dad. I’m sorry but I’m just exhausted all of the s-sudden.” I reply apologetically.

  “Beira, dear, you have looked exhausted since you came in the room. We don’t want you to push yourself too hard after just having woke up,” My mother says tenderly. “Don’t be afraid to tell us if you need time to rest, so much is new to you because of this and that can be taxing.”

  I guess it a good parent can actually tell when their child is in need of a break, and respects them enough to give it to them. My mother… Micheal’s mother, would have pushed and told me to suck it up because the world is unforgiving.

  “I-I think I would like to lie down for a bit,” I say, grateful that they notice my needs. “Can you take me back to my room so that I can do that, Dad?”

  “Aye, Lass, I’ll take you back to your room.” He says and I hear him getting up from his chair.

  “But first, Mom, can I get a hug?” I ask, feeling my face flush with embarrassment from requesting such a simple comfort from this woman who is still a stranger but who clearly loves her child.

  “Of course, Beira,” she replies, emotion catching in her voice.

  She stands and I hear her coming toward me before I feel myself gathered in to a tight embrace.

  It’s warm.

  Sighing softly, I lean in and hug her back. She smells like an afternoon rain on a field of honeysuckle.

  I could get used to this.

  The tender embrace reminds me of my, or rather, of Michael’s mother and the how our last conversation ended. The last time I can think of that she hugged me like Beira’s mother is hugging me now, was back before my father died. Once he passed, it seemed as if all of her warmth had been stolen, taken by the grief that had flooded her heart, leaving nothing behind for me. Sometimes, I wonder if she blamed me for his death and that is why she became so cold toward me.

  If my father were still living, would she have reacted the way she did when I finally got up the courage to tell her how I felt? Would she have looked at me with that same level of disgust that she viewed me with after that? Couldn’t she have seen how I needed her in that moment of vulnerability?

  “Sweety, you’re crying,” my mother, Beira’s mother, exclaims. “What’s wrong?”

  I pull away from her and wipe my eyes.

  “I’m just feeling very l-loved right now, Mom.” I say between sniffles. “It makes me feel sad because I feel as though this is the first time in a long time that I have felt anyone r-really cares about me and how I feel.”

  “Beira, you will always be loved by us and I’ll always care about you and how you feel,” she says gently and I can almost feel the soft smile on her face.

  “Now,” she says, stepping back and taking my hands in hers. “Stand up so that your father can take you back to your room and you can get some rest. You must be exhausted for you to get so sentimental over a hug, not that I’m complaining. I’ll always be here for you, no matter what, Beira.”

  I nod and stand. She passes my hands to my dad, who leads me out of the dinning room. I think I hear a soft sob behind me as the door closes behind us.