I moved towards the desk—thedesk. Black ink feathered across the crumpled papers, a trace of my dripping hair trailing over the desk as time slowed around us. Around me. My fingers found the twin scars at my neck. My lips wobbled and my eyes filled with tears at the raw memory. But my skin hadn’t yet forgotten the time it burned with the tip of an ice dagger.
The compass wasn’t in one of the many drawers, but I did find a detailed map of Lyrantheia and a couple of small daggers. I searched everywhere for it. But Aegir was the master of locks, and I would’ve bet all of my six silver coins that he had it locked somewhere in here. But where?
Then I remembered the green box.He said you’ll find it in his room beneath your first.
Our first what? Our first kiss? Our first touch?
My gaze settled on the desk once more.
I opened its drawers. My brow rose. “Hmm.” They ended too soon. Kneeling, I pulled one of the drawers out and found wood. I cleared the desk, then firmly grabbed the vast wooden surface and pulled up. A cool, familiar sensation wrapped around the skin of my hands, allowing me to open it. I set the map of Naar aside. There. The compass. I placed it in my bag.
Then I reached for the small leather pouch. My eyes widened. Gold coins. I also placed it in my bag.
That was it. I had all that I needed. But before I could close the lid, curiosity tugged at me. I reached for the green box.
I gawked at it—stared—until my eyes and my lungs burned and twitched with molten jealousy. And damn me if I didn’t put it in my bag.
Before exiting, I did something I knew I would both immediately and later regret. I—I folded shut the pocket flame and the everlasting white light extinguished.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered. A futile apology to Semuel for breaking the promise he had made for the people of Ilma. When I opened it, it relit. I blinked at the half-expectation. It was true, then. It was real.
I snapped the pocket shut and placed it in my bag.
“Good girl,” I told her, rubbing that white diamond between her big brown eyes. The apple I gave her seemed too small of a payment. Poor Cinnamon. I might have overpacked her a little. But we needed the food, the water. I needed the blanket, clothes, weapons, and all my other valuables.
I stared at the towering stack of books—all romances. I huffed, knowing I’d sooner pluck out my own eyes with my fingernails than read a love story. And so it seemed that I had to resort to the “no-thanks pile.” I reached for the darkest one,Memoirs of a Dark Woman, and replaced it with another book. The book he had given me at Dunehaven. I reluctantly hung the bow,my bow, close to the arrow—the cry-for-war—and…it was petty really. I had taken a pouch filled with his gold coins, I had taken a variety of his weapons, yet I felt the need to leave behind the silver coin he had not long ago given me.
CHAPTER 39
After two days of blazing heat, outdoor camping, and very uncomfortable nature breaks, I made it. Oh, and not to mention the constant fear of getting lost or attacked—by human, scorpion, or snake. But I made it. On my own. “Wemade it,” I told Cinnamon, rubbing her neck.
It was past dusk, and from the grainy uphill path surrounded by scattered shrubs, I could see the circle of torches burning brightly. It told me that I had made it to the orphanage—I’d recognise that glowing circle as Amfir’s praying hall anywhere.
The light from the immortal flame showed me that the door was no longer bright red. It turned brown and flaky over the years and nobody bothered to repaint it.
I exhaled sharply, then took a few controlled breaths, fidgeting with my hands before knocking. My heart ticked. Then it pounced at the sound of grating metal followed by a creak from the wooden door’s hinges.
I was welcomed with a gasp. “Wildheart?”
“Hello, Sand Priestess Constance. Is Sand Priestess Selmira here?”
“Constance? Who is it?” Another gasp. “Cordelia!? My god, look at you! You’re a woman now.”
“Hello, Sand Priestess Selmira.”
“My sweet Delia. Come—come in. What are you waiting for? I’ll make tea.”
“Erm.” I pulled Cinnamon into her sight. “Can I keep her with the others?” I asked.
“Oh dear, I’m afraid Nutmeg passed on. It’s just Linda now,” Selmira said, making her way out. My eyes welled up so quickly, I surprised myself.
“I’m so sorry. I missed him very much. I missed them both.”I missed her, too.
“Come, let’s take her to the stable.”
Only five years had passed, yet as the bright light of the immortal flame fell on her face, I noticed that the little hair that always peeked from the sides of her creamy veil had turned white.
“What’s her name?” she asked.
