They kept me in the dungeon for five agonizingly long years. Down there, where the sunlight never reached me, where the only person I ever saw was the kitchen boy who brought what I could only loosely call food. I might not have even known how much time passed if I didn’t keep track of the yearly celebration for the king’s birthday.

The last one had been three weeks ago. The king’s twenty-fifth birthday come and gone while I rotted away in a cell. My memories no clearer than they had been the day they locked me away, though the kitchen boy asked me every night if I remembered anything more about what had happened at the church.

My answer never changed. I couldn’t remember my own name, much less who had slaughtered all of those people. Or why they had left me alive to be thrown in a dungeon. My prayers every night were simple pleading to have those memories, to give them to the king in return for my freedom. But I supposed the gods weren’t as forgiving, as merciful, as people claimed them to be.

It was why I thought I was delusional when a familiar face peered through the bars of my cell. The feathered brown hair and pale eyes were something I had never expected to see again in anything other than my nightmares. Yet even if it was nothing more than a delusion, five years was too long spent alone not to talk to it.

“Coming to ask the questions yourself tonight, your highness?” The sweetness of my voice that had so surprised me the first time was different after so long in the dungeon. Rougher, softer, it sounded raspy and uneven.

The king leaned forward against the bars of my cell. The torchlight making the gold band around his head shimmer, as he tipped his head to the side a little, his eyes narrowed. “What questions?”

“Who are you? Where did you come from? What happened in the church?” I repeated the usual questions, my tone flat. “Don’t tell me it only takes five years for you to forget. You must be busy, I’ve heard of the state of the country- the brewing wars, the rebellion. But surely you couldn’t have just forgotten me that easily.”

His soft laughter surprised me, drawing my head up from where it had been resting against my arms as I huddled on the floor. “Forgotten? No. You’ve been on my mind these past years. Increasingly so.”

“Ah, really? So have you come to take my head off now? Are you done waiting for memories I’ll never get back?”

“Not quite.”

When that was all he said, it was enough to spark a curiosity in me that I couldn’t deny. My aching body screamed a protest as I stood up. Trembling so hard, my body so unused to moving, that it was a miracle I managed to even walk across the cell. Falling against the bars, I let my arms drape between them, my forehead resting against the cold iron. “What, then? What’s finally brought you down here?”

“Your freedom.”

I pulled in a slow breath, trying to kill the spark of hope that kindled at his words. I shouldn’t trust the man who had thrown me there to begin with. It could simply be a trick, a trap to justify my death. But I had been down there too long for that to matter. Trap or not, dead or alive, at least I would be out of the cells.

So I pushed that breath out just as slowly as I had drawn it in, and raised my head so I could meet the king’s gaze. “My freedom? And what do you want in return?”

“This will sound strange to you. But I want you to stay by my side.”

He was right. I looked at him like he was insane, because I was certain he was. Stay by the side of a man who had me imprisoned? “Your highness, I believe my cell is the better option.”

The king laughed again, fuller and richer, genuine amusement lightening his eyes as he smiled at me. “I was afraid you would say something like that. It is my own fault, after all. Making a rash decision to toss you in the dungeon, and being too stubborn to repeal that decision before now. But it frightened me when you no longer had your memories. I didn’t know what to do with you.”

Confusion narrowed my eyes, pulling my mouth down into a frown. There was a familiarity to his tone, a comfort that was only reached after getting to know the person you spoke to. I knew, because it had slowly entered the kitchen boy’s voice as the years passed.

The king’s smile faded a little as he watched me. Sorrow beginning to grow, eclipsing the momentary happiness. “I truly am sorry. I should have opened these bars years ago. But you should know the things fear can do to a man.”

“Fear?”

He sighed, his head dropping forward against the bars. “Yes, fear. When I asked who you were, I expected… a certain answer from you. It was a game we used to play, after all. We weren’t supposed to know each other, and so I expected you to give that old riddle answer of yours. When you said you didn’t know… I was afraid for you. And for myself.”

“What are you talking about?” my voice became sharp as I spoke to him, my hands pulling back to clench around the bars.

“I know you.” It was so soft I wouldn’t have heard it if the dungeon wasn’t so silent. “I have known you… for a very long time. Longer, now, than you have known yourself. I doubt you even remember your name even after all this time. But I do. It has haunted me. Your name and the sight of you stumbling out of that church covered in blood.”

It had to be a trap. There was no other way to explain why he would suddenly claim to know who I was. To speak in such a way to me… he was trying to confuse me. Lure me into saying or doing something that would get me killed. Knowing that, I should have kept my silence. It would have been the smart thing to do.

I opened my mouth instead. “If you claim to know me so well, then tell me. What is my name?” It was a stupid question. He could easily lie, pick one on the spot. And yet, I simply wanted an answer. Wanted something to call myself, a name that could be mine even if it was a lie.

“Iladrai,” he answered, so smoothly that it couldn’t be a lie. There was no hesitation, as there was when the kitchen boy told me I would be set free soon. “That was your name. Is still your name, even if you don’t remember it. The name of a brave, foolish young man who never listened to his elders or followed the rules that were laid to protect him. One who made it impossible to forget him even when I was never supposed to know him in the first place. That is who you were. I am uncertain who you are now- and that is why I was afraid.”

The rough edges of the bars were cutting into my hands as I stared down at the dirty, cracked stones beneath my feet. His words didn’t change anything. They didn’t mean anything. There was no sudden rush of memory, no epiphany where I remembered all the things I had forgotten. All it did was irritate me more for the fact that I still couldn’t remember.

“How can I know you’re not lying to me?”

“You can’t.” The king shrugged, leaning away from the bars. “I could be lying to you. I could be making it all up, and you wouldn’t have a clue because you don’t remember. That’s what you’re thinking, right?”

A slight smile pulled at my lips. I couldn’t help it. “It is.”

“Then there is nothing I can do to change that. I’ll accept it. All I want is for you to give me a chance to prove that I don’t mean to hurt you. I’ll let you out of your cell. You can bathe, wear clothes that aren’t still stained with blood. Eat proper food. Sleep in a real bed. And all you have to do, all I’m asking, is that you stay by my side.”

I pressed my forehead to the bars again, shutting my eyes tightly. He was choosing all of the right words to convince me. Even if I died, even if he meant it to be the thing that ended with my head parted from my body, how could I resist? The end of my five years in the dungeon, a chance to pretend to be human rather than a penned animal, even if only for a short time…

The sudden grating sound of metal moving made me jump back from the bars, heart racing. My gaze drew up to find the gate to the cell pulled back, a key in the king’s hand as he stood in the opening. The only thing between me and my freedom. His green eyes watery and his smile trembling slightly as he held out a shaking hand.

“Please, Iladrai. Just… give me a chance.”

I stared at his hand for the longest time before I took a hesitant step forward. Slowly, my hand stretched out, as I made my final decision. His fingers were hot around my hand as he pulled me forward, out of my cell, into his arms. The arms of a king who was probably planning to kill me.

Out of the pan and into the fire.