His boot slipped beneath him, and he dug his palms into the stone, scrambling forward. He reached out, grabbing Azhar’s wrist before it disappeared over the edge of the lighthouse platform.

  “Azhar!” His scream reinforced his strength, and he clung to what he could as his arm banged against the half wall and bent his elbow further back than it could handle.

  But he did not let go.

  He couldn’t.

  If he did then—

  “Hold on!” He yanked his arm forward as much as he could, gripping down and using the half wall as leverage to keep himself from being pulled off. When he stabilized, he leaned over the wall, gripped Azhar’s arm with both hands, and pulled.

  Giggles nearly made him let go, but he blocked her voice out, and heaved her up and over the half wall. When he set her back onto the platform, her legs gave in, and both of them collapsed to the ground.

  Ellio stared at her, his breathes haggard and trembling. His hands shook and stayed their tension, in case he needed to run for her again. But she sat on the ground, eyes following something he couldn’t see.

  Pain set in his arm, and he bit it back as he flexed the joint. Had he not had the strength he did, she’d have fallen to her death. In the morning, he’d return to the swordsmanship practice he’d neglected since the start of their trip to Haasundra. Her safety would be well worth it.

  He looked her over as her giggles subsided and she returned to her distant stares. Her arm looked surely disjointed but when he approached and inspected it closer, the arm was as it was supposed to be. Sirens weren’t known for their ability to heal, and Ellio pushed the concern away, breathing a sigh of relief that, at least, she was alright.

  Unsteady on his own feet, Ellio helped her up and clasped her hand in his. He would not let go of her again. His trembles only calmed once both of them descended the lighthouse and he could breathe without restraint. It was not until they were about halfway down the hill and heading back towards the port did Azhar squeeze his hand back.

  “Where’s Jule?” Her voice sang with a cheeriness that kept Ellio wary.

  “She’ll be at the guildhall of Haasundra. We’re heading there now.”

  “Hmm,” she hummed behind him. Neither spoke for several long moments before Azhar ventured. “Where are we?”

  “In,” Ellio hesitated, “Haasundra. The port city. We arrived earlier. Do you remember?”

  She didn’t answer. Her fingertips tapped the side of his hand as he held it. “Where’s Taiga?”

  “In Winolin. He and Mouse didn’t come with us because Taiga doesn’t do well in the cold.”

  “Ganakri can’t handle the cold well.” She laughed.

  So, she knows he’s not human? And more importantly, she remembered.

  “Who’s Mouse?”

  Or maybe not.

  Ellio said nothing, only squeezing her hand a little tighter. After they reached the bottom of the hill, he began pulling her towards the market. But Azhar pulled away from him, her eyes glistening in the water’s reflection. “Boats!”

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  Hesitantly, he let her hand go, and she skipped onto the wood of the harbor. He sped up, tailing her and keeping her within quick grabbing distance in case she decided to take a swim. A fisherman passed by, his eyes lingering on Azhar longer than Ellio felt comfortable with, and he stepped an extra pace closer.

  “Azhar, do you… have a hard time remembering things?”

  “I,” she spun towards him. He lurched forward when she stumbled, but she caught herself. “Have a great memory.”

  How could he even argue her comment when such extreme confidence flowed from her lips? He sighed, side-stepping a donkey saddled with goods led by a young woman. Ellio’s eyes followed as she flitted about the harbor, spotting a few gulls down one of the lanes and barrelling after it.

  The birds took flight and she laughed, her head jerking upward to watch them take to the sky. A wavy lock of hair spilled from her headscarf. Ellio stepped beside her, his eyes glancing over the silky sheen of dark hair.

  Sirens couldn’t blend in with humans. The longer they stayed upon dry land, their features diminished, but never went away. Their hair looked wet even when dry, shining in the light with such a radiance it could blind others, or so the stories went. Azhar’s lock of hair shined like the water, and he took the lock into his hand.

  “Be careful.” He supposed she didn’t want others to know. Sirens were at peace with all of central and eastern Anu. She didn’t truly need to hide. For her presence wasn’t illegal. But only the purest of sirens could walk the land, their heritage older than most. If she didn’t want others to know, he could keep her secret.

  She smiled, her eyes slitting to moons, and took his fingers in her hand. Then she pulled back and yanked him alongside her. “Let’s swim?”

  “I don’t know how.” He spoke calmly, like he would to a child of tender heart.

  Azhar blinked at him. “You can’t swim?”

  He shook his head. “There isn’t much water in Monx.”

  “Do you,” she rocked on the balls of her feet, “want me to teach you?”

  He wouldn’t trust her with a single daud, much less his life. With his luck, she’d go into another trance the moment he hit the water. “I’m happy with both feet on land, thanks. We should be heading back to the guildhall, anyways. Jules will be waiting for us.”

  “Hmm, is that so?” She began walking, sliding her fingers around his.

  He breathed in relief, beginning back towards the market when she walked beside him. But then she slipped away, and he turned to see her staring out across the water. He followed her gaze to a small fishing boat in the distance. “Azhar?”

  “You asked me if I have a hard time remembering things. Why?”

  He paused. She remembered that, of all things? “Because sometimes you seem to forget.”

  “What do I forget?” She turned slowly back to him. Her eyes were focused, looking at him with a sternness that made him hesitate to look at.

  What did she forget? Anything. Everything. She forgot where they were, all the time. What the ocean was. Who Mouse was. Why they traveled to Haasundra, which she questioned a dozen times on the trip there. Just that morning, she asked Jules who she was.

  But he supposed, for someone who’s memory only lasted a fleeting moment, she wouldn’t even know what she forgot.

  Why did Taiga let her join? Was it because he knew about her memory? Because she was a siren? And what was he supposed to do, answer her, hurt her feelings and wait for her to reset?

  “Nothing,” he supposed, “of consequence.”

  Azhar smiled, leaping back to him and sliding her arm around his. He let her. “Because I have a great memory.”

  He almost laughed. Almost. “If you say so.”

  “They just,” her darkened voice startled him, “wander away sometimes. My memories.”

  He stilled. So she was aware. Of how much, then? He looked down at her, who looked straight ahead of them, unwavering. “Do they ever wander back?”

  She shrugged. “Most don’t. Some do. And a few never leave.”

  A few never leave.

  She’d never forgotten about Taiga. What else, he wondered, did she never forget?

  They walked the plaza in silence. She kept her arm around Ellio’s, and he led the way through the market and followed signs for the guildhall. She hummed after a while, swaying calmly as the streets narrowed and the sky darkened. He hummed with her, to her joy, once he picked up the rhythm well enough.

  He hummed so he wouldn’t think about how terrifying it must be… to know you forget and to never know who you’ve forgotten.