"Buying for someone special?" the shop clerk asked, her smile a bit friendlier than the one she'd given the older gentleman before him.

Reiden shook his head, a shy smile on his lips. He skimmed a long, ink-stained finger down one of the fancy perfume bottles at the shop. "This one."

The shop girl obliged, taking the bottle and carefully wrapping it up. "So not a gift?"

He shook his head again. "The smell just...reminds me of something. You know that feeling?"

She tied a piece of twine around the package. "Mhm. What does this remind you of?"

Reiden searched his head for an answer, but it slipped away the moment he thought he had it. "I don't remember."

He hissed, touching his temple as a suddenly-building headache jabbed at him.

"Sure you don't want something for your head to go with it?" she asked.

Reiden shook said head. "I'm going to a healing house later anyway." He reached into his pouch and dug out nearly the entire contents, leaving just enough for said trip on the bottom. Good thing he'd taken that second job at the docks in addition to his one as a bookkeeper. His last bottle was almost gone.

Some forgotten instinct rose to the surface. He handed the woman the coins as the hair on his arm prick up. Reiden glance over his shoulder, but no one was there.

"Pity what happened at the new house," the woman answered as she counted out his money.

He mumbled something in agreement while still looking around.

"And so close to lord's season too." She shook her head in disapproval. "Brings back bad memories. You remember what happened last century? With Lady Calinya's family and that wretched wizard?"

She kept going, talking faster and counting slower while trying to catch his eye. "My sister Henna works at the Magic Ministry and she said that she heard the mages talking about his brother popping up again."

"He might not be like his brother," Reiden shot back, his shoulders tightening in uncharacteristic defensiveness.

The girl packed away the money and smiled as she finally caught his eye again. "Maybe not. Guess we'll have to wait and see." She handed him the wrapped bottle of perfume, and he took it from her with both hands like he was cradling a child. "Good luck with your headache. Stop by again sometime." She winked at him, and his ears flushed as he turned away.

Reiden shuffled out of the store, still clutching the bottle. He weaved his way through the busy main street until he could duck into a side alley. The hair on his neck stood up again, but Reiden brushed it off. Away from the jostling people, he tore the carefully tied paper off his purchase and then pulled an old, faded handkerchief out of his pocket. Lace, yellowed with age, trimmed the edges and a yellow sun was carefully stitched on one of the corners. Little gray dots rested just below it; the stain of whoever's name used to be embroidered on it.

He popped the fancy lid off the bottle and doused the handkerchief in the perfume. The scent hit his nose, reminding him of people he'd never met and places he'd never been. Reiden carefully corked the remains of the perfume and held the handkerchief to his nose. He breathed deeply, letting the rich smell of coastal flowers and forest herbs seep into his senses. A ghost of a woman's voice rang in his ear, laughing out a name he couldn't hear.

Reiden didn't remember much before his accident. The healers had said he'd been a dockworker and that they couldn't find any family of his. The handkerchief was one of the few things in his pocket when he'd woken up. It had taken him weeks of visiting shops to find a scent that matched the faded one on the small piece of cloth. He liked to think that it meant someone out there had known him, maybe loved him. A sister, a mother, a sweetheart. Just someone.

Tucking the handkerchief away with the bottle, Reiden shook his head. Time to get back to the real world. He was overdue for a visit to a Healing House. Probably why my head started hurting, Reiden mused.

He turned a corner toward the city's older, cheaper Healing House. Footsteps finally hit the ground behind him.

Reiden twisted around. Every muscle in him tightened in preparation and his fingertips buzzed with an unfamiliar energy. His eyes snapped over the alleyway, landing on a flicker of movement behind a stack of crates. "If you're here for my money, I already spent most of it."

"And you always scolded me for not saving enough." His new shadow emerged from behind the crates.

Reiden's headache spiked as his breath seized. It was like looking in a mirror. Same dark hair and skin, same ears, same nose. Reiden was taller and his shadow's jawline sharper, but those were the only differences. Adrenaline spiked in his veins as the eerily-similar man took a step closer.

"You recognize me, don't you?" he asked, his voice quivering as he reached out a hand. "I can see it on your face."

Reiden back away slowly. He'd heard the bards tell stories about doppelgängers. Nymphs who could morph their bodies into any shape they pleased, wizards who would bespell their appearance and steal your life right from under your nose, monsters who would rip your face from your body and wear it themselves. "St—stay away from me!" Reiden shot back, warding him off with his hand.

The man's ears flicked back. He dropped his hand and clutched it into a fist. "He's not thinking straight," he muttered to himself before looking up. He pulled what looked like a bludgeon out of his belt, gripping it tightly in his hands as he quickened his pace toward Reiden. "You're not thinking straight."

Reiden didn't bother giving that an answer. He turned on his heels and dashed down the alley, blood pounding in his ears.

Buildings zipped by as Reiden struggled to keep ahead of the man chasing him. He broke out of the alleyway into the main street. Lose him in the crowd, Reiden thought. If he could do that then he could find a city guardsman and—no, what was he thinking? Guardsmen didn't listen to him.

Reiden nearly tripped over a fountain as the mental equivalent of a hot needle jabbed into his brain. Guardsman. Of course he could go to a guardsman. He was a perfect citizen. People shouted obscenities mixed with the occasional word of concern as he barreled past them, pushing aside anything in his way. Reiden's legs burned as he risked a glance behind. Had he lost him?

He slammed into a couple walking in front of him, sending all three of them tumbling to the ground.

"Watch the gates where you're going you—YOU!" the man called out.

Reiden shouted back an apology he didn't think they heard as he broke into a run. His shadow was out of sight, but Reiden could feel the other man's stare on the back of his head. He ducked down another alley. With any luck, there should be a guardsman watching the approaching docks and he could—

Something hit the back of his head. Reiden slammed into the ground, the world fading away as he fell. His doppelgänger emerged from a connecting side street he hadn't seen, looming over him like a daemon from hellgates. "Sorry, Brother."

The man hit him again, and Reiden didn't get up.

If Feyla had to describe how her new betrothed was acting, relieved would be the first word to come to mind. Her eyes drifted over to Sedgewick and she blushed at the sight of him sneaking a glance at her again. He held his head up in pride while his arm hung to hers as if he thought she might fade away like a daydream.

As they continued walking, Feyla noticed his eyes glazing over, a sure sign that he had drifted deep into his own head and begun walking a path no one else could follow.

"You have that look again," Feyla teased softly as they strolled through the city, going nowhere in particular. They reached the market as the street widened. Stands and shoppers pressed against them, making the already warm day even warmer. Peddlers called out their wares while people crowded underneath the shade of bright canopies or dipped water out of a nearby fountain.

"What look?"

"Like you're solving a puzzle. Or picking apart the universe."

"Not the whole universe. Just the parts that don't make sense." He paused for a moment. "Like us."

Feyla huffed in frustration. She hugged his arm tighter as they reached a more crowded area. "Don't say things like that about the man I love. I've heard enough of it recently," she said, the last part slipping out as she recalled Delia's reaction.

Sedgewick's hackles raised as his eyes narrowed. "From who?"

Feyla bit her bottom lip. Lying was unbecoming, but there must be some way to tell the truth without making things worse.

Before she could find a diplomatic answer, someone rammed into their backs full force.

Feyla tumbled to the ground, dirt hitting her eyes and cobblestone scraping her hands. She coughed, rubbing at her eyes as she struggled to find her voice.

Sedgewick had no such trouble. "Watch where you're going you— YOU!"

Feyla cleared her eyes just in time to catch Sedgewick staggering to his feet. She caught the edge of his coat just before he broke out into a run. "Where are you going?" she shouted.

"I know that man!" he yelled as he dashed off after him, following the trail of overturned baskets and fallen people.

"Thanks for asking if I wanted to chase strangers too!" Feyla shouted after him. "Why do I always end up running after him?" she mumbled before following behind.

Sedgewick skidded past another fallen pedestrian. A normal person would be in denial. A normal person would have brushed it off as just a similar face. But Sedgewick had never been considered normal and he'd long ago learned to trust his instincts.

He knew that face. He'd been there when they'd sentenced the man who owned it to death.

Sedgewick craned to see over the crowd and could almost make out the top of his head. He mentally ran through a list of possible spells that could subdue him, but the crowd was too thick to start blasting off magic. This isn't like him, Sedgewick thought. He'd hunted that man, although disappointingly never been the one to catch him, and he'd never been one to run.

The crowd finally lessened just in time for Sedgewick to catch him slinking into a side alley. Got you, he thought, smirking. He broke free of the crowd and summoned his magic essence. Orange light coalesced on his fingertips, thrumming with energy. Sedgewick dashes into the alleyway, arm raised to begin blasting.

A dark object swung at his head.

Sedgewick slid under it and blasted upward, sending the bludgeon sailing out of his assailant's hand. He jumped to his feet and summoned an essence flare to his hand, a glowing orange ball of magic. It lit up the shaded alley. His target laid crumpled on the ground, the form of his younger brother crouched over him like a bird of prey over a wounded animal. "The younger Carrow. Decided to correct your brother's apparently faulty execution yourself?"

Desden smirked. "Half correct. I am correcting."

"I've been looking for you."

"I know." He scowled but not from worry. "He's my brother. Mine. You're not taking him."

Worry pricked the back of Sedgewick's mind. Something wasn't right here. Desden wasn't scared.

The realization wasn't fast enough. Sedgewick flashed up a ward to block the man's spell. And if it had been the standard magic blast that ninety-five percent of young wizards used, he would have been fine.

Unfortunately, it wasn't.

"Are you okay?"

Sedgewick blinked his eyes open and stared up at the blurry face before him. His head pounded like someone had stuck a poker in it and yanked something out.

"Don't scare me like that! Or run off like that! Or do anything like you just did!" Feyla shouted, her voice finally coming in clear. "If you died right after proposing, I never would have forgiven you."

"Sorry, Dearest." Sedgewick slowly sat up and stared at his new betrothed's worried face.

"What happened?" Feyla asked, slipping an arm under both of his and helping him up.

"I was chasing him—" Sedgewick's head spiked again. "I...I suppose he got away."

Feyla stared at him like he'd gone mad. "That's not like you. Who were you even chasing?"

Sedgewick's eyes narrowed as he stood to his feet. "A dead man. Help me back to the palace. I need to speak to our queen."