The desert didn’t remember her name.
Neither did Ivy.
Not fully.
She knew her name was Ivy. She knew Kael. She remembered the prophecy, the crown, the war. But everything else—her childhood, her father's voice, the warmth of home—was a blank space.
Like a dream she could no longer reach.
Kael held her close as they rode through the wastelands, heading toward the safe house in the outskirts of Crimson Hollow. His grip was firm, but his eyes were troubled.
“Ivy,” he whispered, brushing a windblown strand from her face. “Say something. Anything.”
She looked at him. Studied his jaw, the way his brow furrowed.
“I know you,” she said softly. “But I don’t know why I love you.”
His throat bobbed.
The words gutted him.
She didn’t say them to hurt him—she said them because it was true.
T
