“Who are you, and why does your scent smell familiar?” Tristan asked again, his brows knitted, his gaze sharp yet uncertain.
I stared at his face, my throat tightening, words refusing to come out. The truth I had avoided for so long now sat heavily on my tongue, almost impossible to speak aloud. What happened while I was asleep? My chest tightened. Did that wretched priestess do something to him? Has she tampered with his memory so he no longer knows who I am?
No—I couldn’t let this break me. If I wanted to stay alive, I needed Tristan. Not just for my safety, but because he was my anchor, my mate. With trembling breath, I finally spoke, my voice breaking louder than I intended.
“I am your mate, Tristan. I am Daciana.”
The words rushed out of me like a storm. I shot up from the bed, mo
