Elias surfaced from sleep with a raging headache pounding behind his eyes. He spent several minutes allowing his blurry vision to clear before sliding his feet to the floor.

The room spun dizzily.

He gripped the side of the bed with his good hand and waited until the spell passed.

Soft light spilled across the unfamiliar furniture from lamps positioned throughout the suite. He remembered where he was only after another minute or two of intense concentration.

Kallaster Castle.

This was his room.

On the bedside nightstand, someone had left a glass of water and a bottle of pain medication. Elias didn’t think twice; he reached for both and popped two pills. When he thought he could stand without falling, he pushed up from the bed and began inspecting the unfamiliar setting.

The furniture was all hand carved and well made. He touched a tall dresser without opening any of the drawers and paused next to a sturdy desk positioned near the large fireplace. Although he recognized a framed picture of the woman who had been introduced as his girlfriend, Elias experienced no sense of attachment or intimacy. He didn’t have a need to find her and rekindle whatever relationship they might have had.

At a set of windows, he stared out at the gloomy landscape without recognizing the view. The sun had set some time ago, although he had no trouble making out the jagged silhouette of trees or the shimmer of water beyond the treetops. He imagined he must have spent countless hours staring at the vista from his room high in the castle, and desperately wished he could feel serenity and peace or even a sense of security.

All he felt was lost.

There was no sense of belonging within the walls of his own bedroom.

He turned away from the windows and backtracked to the fireplace, where yet more framed pictures waited. To see himself standing with his father, mother, and siblings, as well as his girlfriend, was more than a little disorienting. It had been so in the hospital, and the sensation hadn’t changed.

This was his life. His world. These were his people.

That he felt nothing at all sparked a brief moment of rage. He reined in the desire to strike out at the photos and demolish the images.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

He closed his eyes and tried to center himself. The fleeting second of violence sat ill with him, as if the reaction wasn’t normal. As if, in his old life, he did not give in to his temper.

Elias frowned. Was that a memory surfacing? Was his discomfort with violence a hint of his past? He attempted to grasp onto the wisp of emotion but it evaporated like a phantom. Maybe it had never been there at all.

A thorough search of the dresser drawers, the attached bathroom, and his closet produced nothing. No memories. The clothes folded in drawers and hanging on hangers could have belonged to anyone. He didn’t recognize a thing. Not even a well-worn pair of boots or a leather jacket that looked as if he’d lived in it.

When he entered the smaller side room off the main suite, Elias instinctively knew the office had been one of his favorite places. Hand-drawn maps sat atop a large desk, clearly made with skill and care. He ran his fingertips over the topmost map, desperately hoping for a flicker of something. A glimpse of the passion that had driven him to make all these things or at least a vague memory of the subterranean spaces.

Despite his desperation, all he got for his effort was cold indifference.

He felt nothing for the maps or the office. It was as if he had invaded someone else’s privacy and was snooping through their belongings.

Elias snatched his hand back from the map as if he’d been burned.

A noise from the bedroom suite distracted him from his inner turmoil. The quiet snick of the door alerted him to company.

Or an intruder.

In a sudden fit of self-preservation, Elias frantically searched the office for a weapon. His head pounded beneath the bandages and his vision blurred at the edges. He found a hunting knife in the slim drawer of the desk and whipped the blade from its sheath.

There was no time to think about his reaction. There was only time to grip the handle of the knife and press his back against the wall near the door.

Instinct demanded he not go down without a fight.