“I heard you were looking at my paintings,” Diego says as he comes into the room and I put his book down on the bed where I’ve been sitting looking at each photo for the last hour. I look up at Diego, seeing his white hair that is so unusual and the way he looks back at me. His voice is cold and icy, but its soothing. Like when you burn your hand and put something cold on it. It hurts at the start, but then the relief is amazing.

“Your paintings are incredible,” I say, making him chuckle.

“You know when we first met, I didn’t like you and you didn’t like me,” he tells me, coming to sit next to me on the bed as I cross my legs.

“Why not?” I ask.

“You were, are, pretty and I didn’t think you would look my way, so I used to annoy you. Only little things, like stealing your pencil in class. Or drinking your water at lunch when you weren’t looking.”

“I imagine that did get annoying,” I laugh.

“But then one day you came to my hut because I had forgotten my bag at school. My parents let you in and you saw all the paintings in my room that I did of you,” he says, and gets off the bed. He walks over to a cabinet and opens it up, digging around before finding an old scrap book. He brings it over and places it on my lap. I open it up to see all the photos inside, there are dozens of me as a child, then growing up as the book goes on.

“You told me that you liked me, that it was clear I liked you too. Then you informed me that we were going on a date at the weekend and I had to plan something.”

“I did?” I laugh, stroking a finger over a painting of me standing on the cliffs, my hair blowing around and my dress moving in the wind.

“Yes, so I panicked. Shan suggested I take you to the snow caves to look at the creatures inside,” he tells me.

“Did I like the date?” I ask, wishing I could remember it.

“We had our first kiss in that cave, and returned years later when we were married for far more than one kiss. So, I would say yes,” he chuckles.

“When I remember, maybe we could return to that cave?” I ask.

“It would be my pleasure Wynn,” he says and stands up, “Let’s get you some food, you must be hungry?” he asks.

“Yes, a little bit,” I say and my stomach rumbles its agreement. Diego gets off the bed, with me following and goes into the next room, which is half storage and half a kitchen. He opens a storage barrel, pulling out two fish that are frozen in ice before putting them on the side. I watch as he cuts them up before cooking them over the fire in the main room. We eat in silence, a comfortable silence because even if I can’t remember, I know we have done this many times.

“Tell me about the world? What is it called?” I ask him when I finish eating.

“The world is called Calais, which is actually the last name of the old royal family but not many know that,” he pauses to pick up my plate and put it on top of his, “There are seven islands, and a new royal family that rules them all,” he says.

“The king?”

“Is evil, do you remember what changed ones are?” he asks and then shakes his head at my confused look, “Of course not. Changed ones are children kissed by gods, blessed with powers and the king hunts them. Orders them killed as babies before they can get strong and maybe even fight against him.”

“Has there been any changed ones born here?”

“Your brother and two others, all killed as babies,” he tells me, causing a sharp pain through my heart as a memory flashes back to my mother screaming as a man in green uniform takes away a baby from her. My father was on the floor, being held down as they took my baby brother.

“I remember, I was only seven,” I say quietly.

“It crushed your family, but they were lucky the king didn’t have you all killed like he usually does,” he says, reaching over to put his hand over mine on the table.

“What can we do to stop this? Was I trying to stop this? I feel like I was,” I say all of it quickly as I try to remember something that is pressing against my mind.

“There are rumours that a changed one has lived, a changed one strong enough to kill him,” he tells me.

“I can’t remember,” I say, giving up slightly and standing up. I walk over to the mirror in the room, looking down at my arms as I feel Diego step behind me, his hands going to my hips and pulling me against him.

“Which mark is yours?” I ask.

“The shield, because I will always protect you,” he says, kissing the top of my head as I relax into him.