'You...how did you end up here? When did you get back? What do you mean you don't know me?'

Kamora was confused, but his words struck a chord. He spoke as if she had lived in this manor before, which possibly answered her questions about her strange feelings when Lord Maroke was near.

She checked that they were alone, then leaned closer to whisper, 'Do you really know me? Did I ever live here?'

He stared at her in awe. 'You really don't remember anything.'

'Please,' she implored. 'I need to know. Many things have confused me since I arrived here, and I haven’t been able to... please help me.'

He studied her for a moment, then unfortunately masked his expressions.

'My apologies,' he said, bowing. 'I must have mistaken you for someone else.'

'Please,' she quickly grabbed his hand to stop him from leaving. When he looked down at her grip, she released it but blocked his path.

'You addressed me by my name. You know me. Why deny it now?'

Something flickered in his eyes too quickly for Kamora to decipher. His body froze, almost like a statue. He was human, evident by the flattened tip of his ears. He seemed twice her age, yet carried himself with an air of nobility, making him strangely handsome. His white-streaked hair was neatly styled, accentuating his features. He looked old, mature.

'I must check something first,' he said, his face emotionless. 'When I am certain of what I've discovered, I'll get back to you.' He bowed once more and left. This time, she didn't stop him. Her eyes tracked him down the dark hallway leading to Lord Maroke’s study. Fate had once again led her to another fragment of her forgotten past.

If she was hesitant before, she was now determined to uncover the truth as she stood in the kitchen hallway. Something about the manor beckoned her. It was time to discover her true identity.

Lord Maroke perused some documents when the door to his study abruptly swung open. The force of it caught his attention, and he glanced up. Greyson entered, swiftly shutting the door behind him. His face was pallid, breathing erratic, looking almost on the brink of fainting.

'What's the matter, Greyson?' Lord Maroke asked, a hint of concern creeping over him. He struggled with these bursts of emotion, never quite understanding them or how he identified them.

Greyson regarded him strangely, rooted to his spot near the door. 

'I asked you a question, Greyson.'

'I've found your wife,' Greyson replied. Lord Maroke gently placed down his documents, fully turning his attention to his assistant, urging him to continue.

'Do you remember her name?'

The question struck Lord Maroke as odd. 'You've forgotten something, Greyson. I can't remember anything about my former wife.' He paused, then continued. 'In fact, you've never told me her name before.'

'Kamora,' Greyson blurted. 'Her name is Lady Kamora.'

At the sound of her name, a flash of pain tore through his chest, causing him to wince as he instinctively placed his hand over the ache.

'My Lord,' Greyson said, rushing over. 'Are you all right?'

Lord Maroke slowly gazed up at him, noticing the deep concern etched on Greyson's face. 'Are you certain that's her name?' he asked, ignoring the question.

Greyson's face contorted in confusion before realization dawned, and his eyes widened. 'You've met her already.'

That confirmation was all Lord Maroke needed. Everything began to make sense – his inexplicable attraction to her, the surges of emotions when he was near her, and his son's fascination with her.

She was his wife, the mother of his child.

The lady of the manor.

Another wave of pain sliced through his chest, and this time, he didn't resist it. A fresh opportunity presented itself to break his family's generational curse.

'My lord, what's happening to you?'

'Why didn't she say anything?' Lord Maroke queried, disregarding Greyson's question once more.

Disapproval marred Greyson's face, but he answered anyway. 'Apparently, she has no memory of this place either. She appeared quite distressed.'

'What do you mean?'

'My Lord, I implore you to discuss this no further. Your complexion is worsening by the moment. Let me summon Mr. Rin—'

'No,' Lord Maroke interrupted. 'There's no need to call him. I can manage.'

Greyson seemed uncertain, but he remained silent.

'Something isn't right,' Lord Maroke mused, attempting to piece together his thoughts. 'I would understand if it were just my memory loss, but her too? It seems orchestrated.'

Greyson frowned, his expression pensive. 'You suspect foul play.'

Lord Maroke nodded. 'I have a new assignment for you. Investigate if I've had any contact with glamour fae.'

'Yes, my lord,' Greyson replied with a slight bow. When he straightened, he inquired, 'What do you plan to do about your wife?'

Lord Maroke recalled Mr. Rin's advice about ridding himself of the curse. 'I'll think about it,' he finally answered. Sharing his plan with Greyson would likely lead to an intense discouragement from his assistant, and he couldn't afford that before even beginning his scheme.