Free Awakened by Inger Iversen Page A

crystal, as well. Ana placed the heavy
     comb in my hair and met my gaze in the mirror.
    “It was yours long ago. Do you remember it?” Her honey eyes were bright with hope.
    I didn’t, but the thought brought my mind to my pants and its pocket contents: the
     necklace that Kale had given Hélène. Would I ever be alone long enough to search for
     it?
    “No. What do you mean, it was mine?”
    “It was Hélène’s, not yours,” Darke corrected roughly from the shadows in the corner.
     “I understand how this ‘possession’ works, even if others don’t.”
    I ignored him, still enamored with the beautiful crystal comb.
    “It was Hélène’s?” I wanted to pull it from my hair and inspect it closer. I looked
     around me again. “Is this Hélène’s room?”
    Darke laughed. Bitter and deep, the sound resonated from his chest and turned my stomach.
    “What’s so funny?” I whispered to Ana, too afraid to address Darke.
    She shook her head. “We aren’t in France. Hélène’s home was in France.”
    I turned to face her. “Okay, then. Where we are?”
    Ana turned to Darke. His face held a warning that she abided . She turned back to me. “It doesn’t matter. You are home, and that is that.”
    She walked away.
    They weren’t going to tell me where I was, and I would have no way of getting in touch
     with Jace or Kale. My heart sunk, and I had to catch my breath. How was I supposed
     to get away if I had no clue which way to run? Of course, if I had the chance, it
     wouldn’t matter—I would still run but the stress of not even knowing what continent
     I was on was overwhelming.
    “Calm your heart!” Darke bellowed, as if that would help me calm down.
    I felt tears sting my eyes, and I squeezed them tightly shut. Stopping the tears from
     falling was hard, but not impossible. I took a deep breath and slowly released it,
     praying it would help me calm down.
    Ana suggested that Darke wait in the hall until it was time for me to go. “I would
     hate for you to take her to Master upset. He would be angry with you, Darke.” She
     shooed him out of the door.
    She returned to me and took my hand. “Come.” She gently pulled me from the stool and
     to the bed. “Rest until he is ready for you. You have had a hectic several hours;
     you need to rest.”
    I followed Ana’s instruction, I lay down and allowed my eyes to close. The fear that
     I would be there forever seeped into my mind, bringing on fatigue that pulled me under.
     I didn’t want to sleep, and I didn’t want to be there—two choices taken away from
     me, beyond my control.
    I drifted to sleep faster than I ever had before and had my first visiting memory
     in weeks.
    ***
    A young girl played in the field as her father softened the soil. Her voice rose as
     she sang in French. Soft and sweet was her voice—so soft and sweet that her father
     couldn’t help but join her in song.
    Au revoir ma belle fille pure comme miel
    pâlissez comme neige
    Ma belle fille au revoir
    Realizing what she was singing, her father stopped and frowned. “Agnes!”
    She came running through the vivid green grass and stood before him. Her dark hair
     drifted with the wind, and her green eyes sparkled with innocence so pure it shone
     brighter than the sun. “Yes, Papa?” she answered in thick accented English.
    He studied her. “Who taught you that song?”
    Agnes’s brow wrinkled in concentration as she thought. “I’m not sure, Papa.” Her voice
     rose as she spoke. “But isn’t it magnificent?”
    She continued singing for her father. Her sweet voice wrapped around the words, almost
     veiling the pain it sent down his spine. The song was a ritual song, one sang by a
     father at his daughter’s funeral. He and Agnes had not attended such a funeral. Where
     could she have heard the song?
    Au revoir ma belle fille pure comme miel
    pâlissez comme neige
    Ma belle fille au revoir
    “Agnes, let Papa teach you a new song. ‘Ma belle’ is not for