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Mayra

“What is your name, fatat eaziza?”

Mayra didn’t so much as furrow her brows when he said this. She had already surmised that – that this was a different Nithel. One who couldn’t recall Alessio or her or even anyone. Not even the dragon. Not the same Nithel who spoke words of kindness and pure love to her.

She sucked in a breath. “May-ra. Camacho.”

Nithel looked shocked at the appearance of the werewolf. A small part of her felt sorry for him that he had to go through this not once but twice over.

Mayra looked back at Alessio, who was standing a distance from them. She didn’t smile at him. Not that she could anyway. But she met his sad gaze steadily with what she hoped was a soft-ish look. She could manage that right?

Nope. Not even that. Cross with herself, she wrenched her gaze away. Why was everything simple always difficult for her to do?

She met Nithels gaze reluctantly then looked away. “You – look well.”