water in the well. She had no cloak to keep her warm for the next three nights while despair set in that no one was ever going to find her in this lonely tomb.
Why, Papa and she knew these woods as well as anyone, and neither of them had even been aware that this ancient, dried-out well was there.
After the first day had passed, Emily had the sense and skill and the raw temerity to set her own broken ankle, shoving the bone back where it belonged, only to faint with pain.
When she had come to, she had torn off part of her dress and wrapped the wound.
But by the time Drake's face appeared days later at the jagged edge of the broken boards many feet above her, she was only semiconscious.
Up in the woods, her father tied the rope around a nearby tree and steadied it as Drake climbed down into the pit with her. He took her in his arms and brushed her tangled hair out of her eyes as he whispered questions, trying to learn the extent of the damage.
At once, he had restored her with water from his canteen. Before long, he had tied the rope around them both and held on to her as her father and a crowd of the other servants who had joined the search assisted in pulling them up. She had blinked her eyes against the light as she rejoined the land of the living . . .
And she did so now, the shroud of sleep dissolving.
When she slowly opened her eyes to the new day, she found Drake staring at her, just like he had all those years ago.
With the memory of his rescue so fresh in her mind, as if it had happened yesterday, she moved abruptly to embrace him. She threw her arms around his neck.
The motion took him off guard. He did not have time to push her away. He accepted her hug, gingerly returning it though he seemed bemused.
Emily squeezed her eyes shut as she clung to him, her heart still pounding from the unsettling dream.
"Well, good morning to you, too," Drake mumbled.
When Emily recollected the particulars of last night, namely that he had become a Promethean, she released him from her embrace, warily pulling back.
"You all right?"
She nodded, easing back onto her elbows. "What were you doing, watching me sleep?"
He held her gaze with a faint, reluctant half smile. "I was just waiting for you to wake up."
"Why?"
"So I could thank you."
"For what?" she asked in surprise.
He shrugged. "For what you tried to do for me, by coming here. Don't think I don't appreciate it. Pound for pound, you're the bravest soul I know, my girl. Always were."
"Well, coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment," she responded, pleased. "But if you really want to thank me, you can start by giving me a proper answer. Did you get your memory back or not, yes or no?"
"More or less. Not everything, but enough."
"I knew it! Was it during that monstrous three-day headache you had in England?"
He searched her eyes with a guarded stare, then nodded. "It all started coming back to me then."
"So you are you again."
"Whatever that means." He looked away with a sardonic lift of his eyebrows. "I have to go. I'm on duty in a quarter hour."
Emily sat up in his bed, stretching a bit, while Drake rose from the stool where he'd been sitting beside her and went to buckle on his weapons belt.
A glance toward the balcony revealed the predawn gray hanging over the thick forest, a slowly paling sky above the mountains' pearly peaks.
"I'll send up breakfast for you when I go down," he told her. "I'll be busy for most of the day."
"I hope you weren't too cold sleeping outside last night? It really wasn't necessary--"
"It was fine," he cut her off.
She got up, still clad in his shirt, and pushed up the long sleeves as she followed him, barefooted, toward the door. "So, I won't see much of you today, then?"
"No." His glance skimmed over her, then he sternly looked away.
Emily let out a sigh, dragging her hand through her hair. "Lord, how am I to occupy myself?" she muttered. "You can't keep me locked up in here all day. I'll go mad."
"Well, you're
Why, Papa and she knew these woods as well as anyone, and neither of them had even been aware that this ancient, dried-out well was there.
After the first day had passed, Emily had the sense and skill and the raw temerity to set her own broken ankle, shoving the bone back where it belonged, only to faint with pain.
When she had come to, she had torn off part of her dress and wrapped the wound.
But by the time Drake's face appeared days later at the jagged edge of the broken boards many feet above her, she was only semiconscious.
Up in the woods, her father tied the rope around a nearby tree and steadied it as Drake climbed down into the pit with her. He took her in his arms and brushed her tangled hair out of her eyes as he whispered questions, trying to learn the extent of the damage.
At once, he had restored her with water from his canteen. Before long, he had tied the rope around them both and held on to her as her father and a crowd of the other servants who had joined the search assisted in pulling them up. She had blinked her eyes against the light as she rejoined the land of the living . . .
And she did so now, the shroud of sleep dissolving.
When she slowly opened her eyes to the new day, she found Drake staring at her, just like he had all those years ago.
With the memory of his rescue so fresh in her mind, as if it had happened yesterday, she moved abruptly to embrace him. She threw her arms around his neck.
The motion took him off guard. He did not have time to push her away. He accepted her hug, gingerly returning it though he seemed bemused.
Emily squeezed her eyes shut as she clung to him, her heart still pounding from the unsettling dream.
"Well, good morning to you, too," Drake mumbled.
When Emily recollected the particulars of last night, namely that he had become a Promethean, she released him from her embrace, warily pulling back.
"You all right?"
She nodded, easing back onto her elbows. "What were you doing, watching me sleep?"
He held her gaze with a faint, reluctant half smile. "I was just waiting for you to wake up."
"Why?"
"So I could thank you."
"For what?" she asked in surprise.
He shrugged. "For what you tried to do for me, by coming here. Don't think I don't appreciate it. Pound for pound, you're the bravest soul I know, my girl. Always were."
"Well, coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment," she responded, pleased. "But if you really want to thank me, you can start by giving me a proper answer. Did you get your memory back or not, yes or no?"
"More or less. Not everything, but enough."
"I knew it! Was it during that monstrous three-day headache you had in England?"
He searched her eyes with a guarded stare, then nodded. "It all started coming back to me then."
"So you are you again."
"Whatever that means." He looked away with a sardonic lift of his eyebrows. "I have to go. I'm on duty in a quarter hour."
Emily sat up in his bed, stretching a bit, while Drake rose from the stool where he'd been sitting beside her and went to buckle on his weapons belt.
A glance toward the balcony revealed the predawn gray hanging over the thick forest, a slowly paling sky above the mountains' pearly peaks.
"I'll send up breakfast for you when I go down," he told her. "I'll be busy for most of the day."
"I hope you weren't too cold sleeping outside last night? It really wasn't necessary--"
"It was fine," he cut her off.
She got up, still clad in his shirt, and pushed up the long sleeves as she followed him, barefooted, toward the door. "So, I won't see much of you today, then?"
"No." His glance skimmed over her, then he sternly looked away.
Emily let out a sigh, dragging her hand through her hair. "Lord, how am I to occupy myself?" she muttered. "You can't keep me locked up in here all day. I'll go mad."
"Well, you're