"I hoped to use the third wish for myself and I thought you'd stop me. There, happy now?" He shook off Dane and Max and marched back to the fallen chair. He picked it up but didn't sit down. "But I won't try that now, and that's the truth."
"Forgive us if we don't accept your word," Balthazar said.
Brant sat heavily on the chair and dragged his hand through his hair. He didn't meet anyone's gaze.
"And another point," Balthazar went on. "How do we know you're not working for someone else who wants the gem? I suspect the Deerhorns and Barborough would like to possess it."
"Why would they when they don't have the wishes?" Brant asked.
"We only have your word that you have them, and I've already stated how worthless that is. I imagine both the Deerhorns and Barborough would want the gem in case they can somehow obtain the wishes. I wouldn't put it past the Deerhorns to think they could bargain with the sorcerer, and I wouldn't put it past Barborough to pretend not to know what happens to the wishes after death. He might know how to get them. He might already have them."
"I have the wishes!"
"You might have struck a deal with the Deerhorns or Barborough, saying you'll get the gem for them if they use one wish to get our memories back."
Brant rounded on Dane. "Why are you letting him say all these lies?"
"I told you before, I am not the leader of all the staff, just the guards," Dane said. "We have equal say in what happens to the gem, and Balthazar is allowed to voice his opinion."
"But he's wrong!" Brant ground out through a clenched jaw. "I have the wishes, and I need the gemstone to use them. Don't you want your memories back?"
"You know I do," Dane said.
"Then give me the fucking gem!"
"No," Balthazar said again. "Not until we know we can trust you. We've already seen how much damage can be done with just one wish. Imagine what can be done with two." He put up a gnarled and knotty finger as Brant protested again. "We have a responsibility to be careful with those wishes. You might have them, but those of us who are aware of the sorcerer's power have a duty to see that they're used wisely. I will not sit by and allow you, or anyone else, to become another Leon."
"That's easy for you to say," Brant spat. "You're old. You've lived the best part of your life. All you've got to look forward to is a grave. The rest of us want to live our lives and we can't do that until we know our pasts."
"You think I want to go to my grave never knowing what I've done in this life?" Balthazar shook his head. "I am not advocating letting the wishes go to waste. We will use one to retrieve our memories. But I want to make sure you are not the one wielding all the power for your own selfish reasons. I am yet to determine how to do that." He nodded at Dane. "It requires discussion. I suggest we take some time to think about it and not act in haste."
Brant kicked the table leg and crossed his arms. "This is pointless."
"I agree with Bal," Theodore said. "Captain?"
"So do I," Dane said. "We need time to plan for all possible outcomes."
"None of you believe me?" Brant asked.
"I believe you," Yen said. "But I don't trust you not to use one of the two remaining wishes for yourself. I agree to delay while we consider it. We've waited this long to get our memories back, what's a few days more?"
"Aye," Erik chimed in.
The rest of the men nodded, although not all looked entirely convinced. Some would be impatient to get their memories back, no matter the cost.
"Bal, pay Josie for a jar of salve she's going to purchase then organize a meeting with the heads of staff," Dane said. For someone who didn't like to be called their leader, he certainly gave orders as if he were. "I'm late for a meeting with the dukes. Brant, stay here until I get back."
Brant muttered under his breath and crossed his arms high up his chest.
Balthazar rose and handed me some coins then walked off with Theodore. Dane held the internal door open for them. Before following them through it, he looked back at me.
"You're returning to the village now?" He posed it as a question, but I suspected he was making a suggestion. A strong one.
"After we speak with Remy," I said. "I'd like to see how he's faring."
Max collected his sword and belt from the hook. "I'll escort you."
"We don't need an escort," I said without thinking.
He paused. "I need to see someone in the kitchen anyway."
Erik chuckled. "Bring me back some chicken."
Remy was in the makeshift class that had been set up in the corner of the service commons courtyard. He and two other students listened to maid-turned-teacher, Olive, as she spoke to them about the history of Glancia. She stopped so Remy could speak to us.
"Olive's been teaching us about stuff that happened a long time ago," he said with bright-eyed enthusiasm.
I'd offered the boy from The Row and his mother a room in my house when the situation in the slum became dangerous. When the governor's office had sold my house to pay the fine I'd incurred from illegal doctoring, the Ashmoles had leased it and thrown us out. The Divers couldn't take Dora and Remy into their home as well as me, so Dane had found Dora a place in the palace kitchen. She was the only servant with a memory and her son was the only child on the estate.
"Olive taught me about famous kings and battles, and inventions. Did you know, Josie, Mull is hundreds of years old?"
"That's very interesting." I glanced over his head at Olive. She wouldn't have known the history of the nation either. Or, rather, she wouldn't have remembered it.
She held up a thick book. "The palace library is extensive."
We left them to their studies and intended to head home, but got only as far as the large forecourt. I spotted Kitty, the Duchess of Gladstow, and Lady Miranda Claypool approaching from the palace and hailed them.
"I'm so glad to see you both before we leave," I said, taking Miranda's offered hand.
"Were you going to leave without even speaking to us?" Kitty pouted, but it was a pretty pout and held no rancor.
"I'm coming back this afternoon and would have sought you out then."
She turned to Meg. "Is this true?"
Meg bobbed a hasty curtsy. "Yes, Your Grace."
"You don't need to use our titles," Miranda chided. "You're a friend of Josie's, and that means you're our friend too. It's Meg, isn't it?"
Meg nodded. "Yes, er, ma'am."
"I'm Miranda and that's Kitty. You'll get used to calling us by our names, although getting used to us takes a little while. Particularly Kitty. She's far too proper and uptight."
"I am not!" Kitty snipped. "I'm no different to Meg or Josie, except that I wear finer clothes. Put me in a village dress and no one will know the difference."
Miranda burst out laughing, and I giggled into my hand, not yet confident enough to laugh in the duchess's face. Meg simply stared at me, horrified.
Kitty's lips twitched until she gave in and smiled. "I suppose I am a little different. It's not my fault. I was born like this." She indicated her rose-colored gown with the matching military style jacket, white ruffled collar, and polished leather boots. "It's breeding."