Disclaimer: yep, still the same night, yep, still not mine.
Yep, still the same lovely beta. :)

Breakfast came rather promptly, though Ed was hard pressed not to turn up his nose and bury it under the covers he'd pulled back over himself. It smelled so strongly of fish.

But Karissa brought it, and laughed cheerfully at the faces he made, and sat and talked to him about the morning catch while he ate. She and Pell had gone together (though Ed got the impression that his uncle the Duke of Galma, or at least the court, did not know that), and she chattered about how Pell had a hard time talking to anyone until a really old sea captain came in and told of accidentally catching two turtles in his nets, one very old and one very young, and Pell, sensing that here was someone who would do most of the talking, carried on a good conversation that won him respect, for his knowledge of the sea.

"People think he doesn't know anything, because he's too shy to open his mouth, but he's very smart, he really is."

"I'd like to get to know him better, then," Ed said. "Or get to know him again. Or remember him. I say, Karissa, you said you didn't know me before, but I've been wondering about what kind of person I am. Have you heard anything? Any rumours? You can tell me," he coaxed, as he saw her hesitate. "I won't mind."

But Karissa shook her head. "Women that tell tales about royalty don't end well, even if they're noble. I'm sorry, my lord. I don't think I dare to."

"I'm not precisely royalty. Please?"

She pressed her lips together, thinking. Ed waited, almost holding his breath, hoping—but she eventually shook her head again. "I'm sorry, I really shouldn't. But I could tell you about your history," she added, seeing his face fall. "Your family, and birthplace, and where you're at in succession, and all that. That's common knowledge in all of Galma."

Something in Ed reminded him to take what he was given, and work with that, so he nodded. "I would appreciate that."

She smiled. "You're funny, sometimes. You remind me of Pell; how you thank people for any small kindness. But he thanks the people he knows, and you thank everyone."

"Probably because I don't know anyone yet," Ed returned dryly.

"Oh, you will. Be a friend to Pell?" she asked, folding her hands together in her lap. Ed noticed she was pressing them more tightly than usual, and realised she meant that.

"I will do what I can," he said after a moment. He was, he discovered in that moment, someone who took promises seriously.

Karissa looked at her hands. "Thank you. He will make a good Duke, if he has a little help." She looked back up and smiled brightly. "So, your family: you are the only child of the Duke's brother. He and his brother—they didn't always get along. Not even as children. So when they grew up, they settled things by having the Marquess move to the other side of the island and shore up the defences there. He did a brilliant job, by all I've heard," she hastened to add, smiling at Ed. And Ed was grateful; it was good to know that of his father. "I heard there was a bit of a strain at the time of the move, but then they got on well together, and both married, and when the Marchioness got pregnant, they were going to marry the girl to Pell. If you had been a girl, I mean. I'm kind of glad you weren't," she added, laughing. Ed smiled, for he had noticed that perhaps two-thirds of her conversation were all about Pell. "But then, a month or so before the Duchess died, there was a terrible evening. We didn't hear the details, over here—only the rumours. But it was said that the whole family died in a carriage, at the hands of pirates."

"Not the whole family," Ed muttered, and Karissa blinked.

"Sorry?"

"Not the whole family," he said, reminding her. When she still looked puzzled, he gestured at himself.

"Oh! Right, of course. I meant the older part of the family. And the Duke took you in, hoping to make you and Pell better friends than he was with his brother. Or so he said."

"And did it work?" When Karissa tilted her head to the side in question, he queried, "Did we become friends?"

A strange smile touched her mouth—the corners lifting, but her lips pressing together. "I couldn't say, my lord. That's another thing a viscount's daughter is not allowed to have an opinion about."

Ed let a short silence settle, thinking. He kept running up against things he wasn't allowed to ask, and he didn't like it. Surely the truth was something free to most people? Especially the truth about themselves.

So what could he ask?

Or what could he do, to get to know himself better? To, perhaps, become Pell's friend again (or for the first time, for Pell's polite shyness meant that he either didn't know Ed well, or was worried Ed had changed), and to perhaps stop the pirate attacks from happening, for it sounded like that was still a problem. Which meant people were in danger.

And that, Ed had again realised, was something else he had strong emotions about. Then again, if his parents died at pirate hands, that would make sense.

So how could he discover himself, other than trying to befriend Pell and fighting pirates?

(And healing, and reinforcing habits. I know. I haven't forgotten the list. Shut up.)

Perhaps by exploring, and seeing what could jog his memory. With that in mind, he focused back on Karissa, who was beginning to rise.

"Do you feel up for trying to stand?" she asked, one hand hesitantly reaching out. "We shouldn't push the limits, of course, but the Duke is anxious for you to be up and about. To know that you're well, and all that."

And Ed paused. He'd been intending to tell her he'd already been up, that he'd already walked to the windows and the back of his bed, but something in the rushed way she said the last sentence set off his suspicion.

Apparently I am a suspicious person at times. Or maybe I just disliked rushed sentences?

Either way, what do I do now?

Well, I don't have to tell her I got up. I can just answer her question truthfully. And that might be wiser, for now. For all she is a viscount's daughter, she knows what the Duke wants. And I do not trust him either.

I wish I knew why.

"I would be up for trying, It'd be nice to get out of bed," he added, deliberately adding a wide smile. She immediately responded, and helped him remove the bedcovers. Ed let her, deliberately moving more slowly and more loudly than he had before. Bracing himself, he once again stood up too fast, and once again fell back on the bed, clutching his head. Though this time he smiled, hiding the smile behind his hands.

It hadn't been as bad. I am getting better.

"How is your head?" Karissa asked softly, her voice concerned.

"It hurts," Ed deadpanned back.

"Then I should go get the healer. I'll let him come in alone, of course, so don't be alarmed by him. His name is Toma." She'd settled Ed back against the pillows while speaking and she now drew the covers over him before leaving.

Don't be alarmed by him?

I'm not supposed to be alarmed by the creature coming to save my life? That's good news.

Wait. Creature?

She said it's a he. For some reason I'm expecting someone really tall, or someone really short with terrible manners. I think I prefer the second?

I wonder if I'm right.

As it turned out, Ed was not right. Toma entered the room quietly, a man of middle height, dirt-blond hair he had tied back with a string, dark practical clothing, and the weariest face Ed remembered seeing. None of the lines on his forehead were laugh lines; his mouth stayed in a straight line, so set there it was impossible to imagine him smiling.

"How are you feeling today, my lord?" His voice was quiet, his movements nearly noiseless as he set a brown bag on a chair and approached the bed.

Ed shrugged (careful not to move his head) and studied the man. The man studied him back, still with those nearly-expressionless eyes, and then gently picked up his wrist and placed three fingers on it. He stood there, eyes distant, and then laid it down. He reached both hands up and took Ed's head in his hands, so very gently that Ed didn't feel the pain increase in the slightest.

"The bandage looks stained on the side. I'd like to change it, but I'd better wait till tomorrow; it's still relatively clean, and I don't want to open up any bleeding. Have you tried standing?" A clinical question, still in that quiet voice. I think he's good at his work. And good, perhaps, at making himself unnoticed unless he's needed.

"I tried while Karissa was here," Ed responded, just as quietly. It was nice on his head.

"Any balance problems?"

"Yes, I had to sit back down again rather suddenly."

The healer nodded, turning Ed's head gently to the right so he could study the left side. "That will probably last for a few days. The Duke will want you up and about; I would advise making sure you take your time, though. If you push yourself too hard, or let him push you, you'll make healing harder."

He's straightforward; and unafraid to contradict the Duke.

I think I like him.

"What about my memories?"

"It's almost impossible to tell with head wounds. You may regain the memories as you heal, or you may not. Have you had any so far?"

Ed turned his head, and the healer let him. He looked straight at Toma, at the blue eyes that gave the impression of such great weariness.

But not fear, nor dislike.

"I have one," he said quietly, studying Toma for a reaction. "I remember falling."

Toma nodded, releasing Ed's head. "That could be from the fear you felt in such a moment; it would be hard to forget. Don't push your brain; let things come to it on their own." He turned back and picked up his bag, slinging the long strap over his shoulder. He made his way to the door and paused.

"If you do have memories, you can tell me about them. They could be indications of how your brain is doing. But if you do, my lord—it might be better not to tell anyone else." He left without looking back.

That might be the best piece of advice I remember getting.

But I'm not sure I'll tell you either. I'm not sure I trust anyone here.

I wish I knew why. I wish I knew who I was.

Across the sea, in a different castle near the water, two girls sat in a study filled with books, one sewing, one polishing a dagger, and both trying not to look worried. Just at that moment the door opened, and a young man wearing a crown strode in.

"We've found him," he said without preamble.

"Alive?" the oldest whispered, eyes fastened on her brother's face. He nodded.

"Robin found him—he's at Galma. And being treated well, apparently. He's held in a tower. Robin sent word by a Turtle, and stayed to keep as much of an eye on him as he can. Ed's got a bandage around his head, but he's already tried standing."

The older girl smiled, her eyes filling with tears, and the younger sighed in relief, standing up and sheathing her dagger. "When do we leave for Galma?" she asked.