“Cannot sleep?” Sand Priestess Selmira asked, poking her head through the door.
“I don’t want to sleep,” I mumbled, staring at the flaking ceiling, its shadows moving in beat with the flickering candlelight.
She came in, hands behind her back, and sat on the edge of the bed. She peered down at me and asked, “Why don’t you want to sleep?”
“I’m afraid to sleep.”
“Why are you afraid of that, my dear?”
“What if my memories go away forever if I sleep? Maybe if I try hard enough, I’ll remember them.”
“Sleeping won’t do that, my dear. In fact, resting will do your head good. And fear not, I have something that will keep you safe through the night. Do you want to see it?”
I nodded.
She revealed an arm, with a stuffed creature in hand—a brown horse.
“This little creature will keep you safe, just as Amfir will. And while you sleep, I will pray to him for your memories to return.”
I hoped Amfir would listen to her prayers. It was my last wish before my eyelids turned impossibly heavy.
Her prayers were not answered, though.
Selmira kept her promise.
She let me touch their faces, and as I placed my hand above their muzzles, it warmed my heart just that little bit. Then she handed me two apples. I gave one to each, their chin grooves grazing my palm as they reached for the fruit—it tickled. I wished to stay but Selmira nudged me. “Come now, I’ll show you the praying hall and the dorms. We’ll find a nice bed for you.”
“Dorms? Will I not be staying in the same bedroom?”
“No, dear, that is the guest room. You will be staying in one of the dorms, with other young ladies.”
My head lowered. “Sand Priestess?”
“Yes, dear.”
“I have this necklace.”
The Sand Priestess gave me a small smile, which I felt was pitiful. “I suspect that was your mother’s. It belongs to you now.”
My heart ached, and I clenched the grey pendant in my fist. I squeezed my eyes shut and willed myself to remember—at least her face.
I didn’t.
Tears welled in my eyes and a sob left my chest.
“Let’s stay here for a few more minutes,” Selmira murmured.
We stayed like that for a while, looking at the horses in silence.
Then I asked, “What are their names?”
“This one,” she said, pointing at the black mare, “is Linda, because she’s very beautiful. And this one is Nutmeg, because he is brown and only slightly sweet.”
I reached for their faces. “Hello Linda, hello Nutmeg. I’m Cordelia.”
CHAPTER 1
Day zero.
