Elayra held her breath when her question made him stop, her gray eyes cautiously hopeful it had struck a good chord with him, that, despite the odds, he [i]remembered.[/i] Alas, Lady Luck had yet again turned a blind eye to the Wonderlander as Ghent gave his vehement response.
	She blinked at his reaction in surprise, and cast Drust another quick glance when Ghent gestured to him.
	The man, his face still hidden beneath his hood, started slowly toward them, his neck giving a small twitch. 
 	“Put me… [i]What?[/i] No one ‘put me up to this!” She snorted, and her lips pulled down in a mix of anger and distaste at the audacity of the question.
	She looked again to Drust, growing sluggishly closer, then shook her head at him in warning to stay back. Though his face may provide a better memory-jogger than her own, she had no desire to risk a confrontation involving him. Not yet, at least, with none of the boy’s trust laying with her. Her full attention returned to Ghent once the White Knight stopped, still a relatively unalarming distance away.
	“If coming here was anything short of a dire need, we wouldn’t even be [i]having[/i] this conversation.” She glanced to the cat with suspicion and curiosity, wondering if it was safe to speak in its presence. The light of her pendant reflected in the cat’s eyes. “But, alas, it is, and we are.”
	[b]“Joke’s old, you know?”[/b]
	Elayra’s expression hardened, and her gaze locked with his. Frustration flashed over her face.
	“This is no [i]joke,[/i] Ghent Madrail,” she began, her voice as solemn as her expression. She stepped toward him. “I don’t know what this world’s done to you. Nor do I much care. But unless you're just always this offended by conversations, clearly, you remember [i]something[/i] of Wonderland. The question is, [i]what[/i] do you remember?” She grasped at her own muddled memories, and everything Drust had told her about the world before the Curse. “Heart castle? Whispering Woods? Your father?”