Page 25 of The Other Omega

“Until recently, so had I.”

Mireya chuckled, but Samir continued studying the display. “No structural abnormality. No indication of neurological deterioration.”

“And yet her amnesia remains,” Mireya said.

“Yes,” Samir agreed. “Yet there’s no indication of neurological damage.” He enlarged the scan. “Run the comparison once more.”

Mireya did, and Samir examined the new readings. “Significant improvement from the previous scan. Nothing here explains the continued amnesia.”

“My concern exactly,” Mireya said. “How can we resolve the issue if we don’t understand its cause?”

“Does that mean I might never remember my life again?” I asked.

“No,” Samir said. “If there’s no visible neurological damage, I see no reason to believe your memories cannot eventually return.”

“Memory disorders are rarely so straightforward,” Mireya said. “But I do believe a focused treatment programme, designed specifically for Elowen, would be beneficial.”

“What would that entail?” Cedric asked.

“As you may already have anticipated, I would recommend the Royal Mental Institute. Elowen would be provided with private quarters, knowledge of her condition would be restricted to essential personnel, and⁠—”

“Absolutely not,” Cedric said.

Mireya remained composed. “Perhaps Elowen herself should be permitted to answer. It is her memory we’re discussing, after all.”

Five sets of eyes turned toward me. I lowered my gaze to my hands. “I’ll go.”

Eleanor’s fingers tightened around mine. “Sweetling⁠—”

“I want to.” My voice trembled. “If there’s even a chance it could help me remember, then I want to try.”

The thought of leaving this house made something inside me buckle. I would be away from Eleanor and the fathers, somewhere Mireya could reach me without any of them watching. Fear turned my scent so acrid that even I could smell it. Tears gathered in my eyes, and I let them fall.

“I don’t want to be a disappointment any more. I don’t want what I did to myself to keep bringing shame to all of you.”

A sob escaped me, and Eleanor gathered me into her arms. She rocked me, a soft rumble coming from her chest. “Is it possible she could regain her memory naturally?”

“Yes,” Samir answered.

“There’s no guarantee of that,” Mireya said.

Eleanor’s arms tightened around me. “And can you guarantee that this treatment will restore her memories?”

“There’s a greater likelihood with focused treatment.”

“That wasn’t what my mate asked,” Cedric said. “Can you guarantee it?”

Mireya hesitated. “No treatment can guarantee the restoration of memory.”

I hid my face against Eleanor’s neck, and she held me tighter. “Then is she otherwise fit and well? Her readings are good, are they not?”

“Eleanor, medicine is hardly as simple as that.”

“She is,” Samir said.

“Then my daughter will undergo no further unnecessary treatment, and she most certainly will not be removed from this house. Is that understood, Mireya?”

“I—I suppose alternative arrangements could be made. I could administer the treatment here.” Mireya straightened slightly. “But regular monitoring would remain essential. Her recovery is encouraging, certainly, but we still don’t understand what caused the episode. Until we do, I cannot dismiss the possibility of a relapse.”