"Avery!" My mother called out as she hurried past the beds of wounded soldiers, all lined up next to one another.

When I woke, I found myself lying stiff on a bed, in a room that seemed to be an infirmary. A woman with a washcloth was wiping off dried streaks of blood from the sides of my neck, the white linen stained with darkened gunks and watery remnants of whatever was left stuck onto my skin. All around me, men and women dressed in white and midnight blue tunics bustled around tending to wounded soldiers, golden sashes flying behind them as they hurried along. Some were already bent over heavily breathing bodies lying on the beds, hands hovering over various injuries. Some looked too far gone. They would chant, I noticed, lips muttering quick words in succession whilst their hands made phantom movements over the wounds, glowing threads snaking out of the tips of their fingers and attaching themselves to the ragged edges of cut-open flesh and knitting them together.

"How badly are you hurt?" She asked as she approached me. Her face was etched with worry, blood splattered all over her left side.

I shook my head as she came to a stop by my side, hands hovering over me, unsure of what to do. "I'm fine. Is that your blood?"

"No, don't worry about me, not when you're covered in it yourself," she mumbled while inspecting my skin and she gasped, "Oh, darling. Oh, I should never have let you get out there. I just couldn't say no to you, not so soon— No, I was just weak and selfish. Gods! What was I thinking?"

"Now, now, milady. There's no need to panic."

A middle-aged woman was reaching out for my thigh and I flinched away. She gave me a kind smile and patted my shoulders, "It's alright, love. I'm a healer. I can make that nasty gash of yours go away. It won't hurt you, lass."

She looked towards my mother and with a gentle push, led her away to the edge of my bed. "High Lady Sesille, if you don't mind. I need some space to give her proper treatment."

"Yes," my mother replied hurriedly, "Yes, of course. I apologise."

She had a thick accent and gentle green eyes. She got to cleaning the wound first and I hissed in pain.

"Well, it might hurt a wee bit."

As she continued to work away with the gash, she introduced herself, "The name's Ainslie. What's yours, dearie?"

"My name is Avery."

"Avery, eh? That's a pretty name, fitting for a pretty lass. Now what was your fair behind doing in the battle?"

Ainslie decided to add pressure to the wound and I bit my lip until I could taste the coppery substance. I could see my mother gripping onto the edge of the bed, trying to look over Ainslie's head bent over my thigh.

"The stubborn mule decided to come along, and now she's gotten herself injured." Zevlin came out of nowhere with his eyebrows furrowed. He seemed to have emerged from the battle unscathed.

"I am not a mule."

"Your actions imply otherwise."

"I realise I severely underestimated the dangers of going into something like that, but there's no need to be rude, Lord Zevlin."

"I'm merely saying, this could have been avoided had you listened and stayed behind." He enunciated every word, placing deliberate emphasis on what opinions he had of me.

I scowled at him. "I didn't realise your attitude would fall so far from your rank."

"Perhaps you didn't notice—"

"Zevlin, I have a wound that will not stop bleeding, a head full of voices and ten year's worth of memories to sort through. So if all you have to say to me are things I already know all too well, I suggest you leave." I hissed.

There was silence for a moment. I refused to avoid his narrowed gaze. The tension continued to rise. Ainslie continued to work quietly on a mysterious salve, hands grinding away at the mortar and pestle. My mother, who had stood by the entire time, cleared her throat and smiled awkwardly at Lord Zevlin.

"It looks as though neither of us can be of use here. Come, let me take you to your room. You should stay for the night before you return to the academy tomorrow."

She gave me a soft smile, "I'll have someone take you to yours, and then we'll see you at dinner." She then placed her hands on his shoulders and forcefully led him out of the room.

Beside me, Ainslie chuckled. Her hands had worked the salve onto the wound. Numbness spread throughout the areas it covered.

"I don't think I've ever seen a lady talk that way to Lord Zevlin. Not that a lot of them would have dared to come close enough," She crossed her hands over my wound, "Now this part is definitely not going to hurt."

She closed her eyes, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. As her hand glowed a brilliant gold, warmth spread through every part of my body. The rippling sensation sent shivers down my spine, in a good way. I gasped as I felt the wound close abruptly and the pain dissipated. The warmth slowly disappeared and when I peered down, Ainslie was already wiping her hand on a loincloth, a smile present on her sweet face. My wound was gone; closed and left with no scar.

"Thank you, Ainslie."

"You're welcome, dearie."

Almost as soon as she left from my bedside, two guards and two women approached me with their heads bowed. One of the women appeared to be middle aged, with her greying brown hair pulled back into a neat bun, and hands politely folded over her deep magenta linen overskirt.

"Good afternoon Lady Alveriana. My name is Madame Huxtable, a senior housekeeper of the Alvere Palace," she lead the younger woman, whose eyes remained glued to the infirmary floor, forwards and closer to me. "This is Lacy. She will be your lady's maid, starting from today."

"Pleasure to meet you, ma'am," she gasped and bowed deeper, "Milady. My lady. Lady Alveriana. I—"

Madame Huxtable placed a stern hand on Lacy's shoulder and shook her head. "Forgive the girl. She's a bundle of nerves. But I assure you, she's very capable. Lacy and the guards here will help you to your chambers. We've prepared a bed for you to lie in whilst they carry you there. You are injured after all."

I smiled awkwardly. In truth, Lacy wasn't the only one with bunched up nerves. Although my head knew I was effectively Valiron's royalty, this treatment felt foreign. I couldn't bring myself to nod and hold my chin up, to have lady's maids and be offered a stretcher just to get to my room. I peeked at my thigh under the linen covers. It looked all healed up, with no signs of it ever being cut open. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and both Madame Huxtable and Lacy rushed towards me. I held my hand up. I gave my right leg a little bend at the knee, and gingerly landed my foot on the ground. It seemed alright to put weight on it.

"I can walk. There must be others who need that more than me." I gestured around the infirmary, where many of Avillion's soldiers still lay incapacitated on the beds. Madame Huxtable's brown eyes flitted around the room before she nodded in understanding, and with a wave of her hand, the guards had put the stretcher away and quickly took their places once more.

"How generous of you, m-my lady," Lacy chimed, her plump face paling as I turn to meet her eyes.

"There's no need to be so afraid, Lacy."

"Lady Alveriana is right," Madame Huxtable cleared her throat and smiled at the younger girl. "Help the lady up, and make haste. We shall need to prepare her for dinner."

+++

The walk to my room didn't pose any problems for my leg. It did, however, prove to me that regardless of whether I'd regained my memories, this palace would forever remain a maze to me. Though each hallway displayed distinct artwork, tapestry and craftsmanship, there were simply too many. Madame Huxtable made an effort to give me a simplified tour of the parts of the Palace we had to pass through to get to my room in the west wing. The wing where most of the chambers of the High Family members were located, along with two guest rooms available for use for close friends of the family. Diplomats and other official representatives of any kind from Valiron's five other countries were usually accommodated in the north wing, easily accessible from the main palace by the series of outdoor corridors that connects most areas within the Alvere Palace. The main palace was where all the ceremonial and official halls were located. The banquet hall, the grand ballroom, the smaller banquet hall, the smaller ballroom. The list went on.

The palace itself was surrounded by walls and located a certain distance away from the city of Avillion itself. As a matter of fact, the palace grounds were so large that the back gates do in fact lead to an area within the middle zone of the city. In many ways, the palace acts the part of a fortress as well. With large royal barracks, ample training grounds, and an expansive military network that extended well into the surrounding towns and villages, it had served its duty well for centuries.

"Of course, there have been several areas of the palace that have been rebuilt, and on occasion expanded, but the west and south wings have retained the entirety of their original structure. So have our famed gardens."

"Expanded? Someone really thought this place wasn't monstrously big enough?" I huffed as we walked through a half open walkway. It felt nice to breathe in the fresh air. The infirmary had been located in an almost entirely separate area of the palace, and we had taken to using the underground passages to ensure we arrived to the west wing without attracting unnecessary attraction. Needless to say, there were more than several flights of stairs involved, and a real lack of windows. I paused for a moment, hand holding onto the pillar of one of the archways.

I looked out at the view, lips stretching into a smile at the feeling of the wind combing gently through my hair. The walkway overlooked the inner gardens, surrounding the grand building of the main palace, its towers of jadeite green and soft, glimmering gold casting shade down onto the workers bustling about the palace. The intricate layering of walkways and corridors, all coming together to form the unique halls of the Alvere Palace, seemed even more unfathomable from this level. I peered my head over the marble railing and directed my gaze upwards. The three different levels of the palace's inner walkways were connected by plazas and platforms. It truly was a marvel.

"There was a time, my lady, when I was a young and spritely lady's maid, and you were half my height, and I held your hand and watched you run through these halls with that same wonder in your eyes." The fondness in Madame Huxtable's voice made me feel emotional.

"I remember now. It comes and it goes, but for the most part, I remember," I turned to look at her. "I suppose one of these days, I'll be able to recall the times I spent under your care."

"Ach, my lady. It has been quite some time now, and it's no matter of import." She approached me slowly and took my hand in hers. "What matters is that you are home now."

The rest of the way was no longer as confusing. My feet recalled the number of steps and turns, and the walls became increasingly familiar. We had entered the west wing. A warmly decorated area, with doors on the left and right. There were many rooms in this wing. As my mother had said, this palace has had to accommodate many generations of High Families throughout Valiron's existence. I suppose at some point they would have had some large families here living altogether.

We came to a stop at a pair of grand double doors. Although, to be honest, all the doors here were grand and came in doubles. I ran my fingers down the cool iron handle, trailing down towards the etchings on the door.

"Your room, my lady," Madame Huxtable said as she pushed the doors open for me.

My jaw slacked to the floor.