“Cinnamon.”
She chuckled. “How so?”
“It’s because she’s brown and very much sweet.”
Selmira smiled at that. “Suits her well, then…why are you here, Delia? And is that—is that a bow?”
“I—I still cannot remember them.”
“I’m sorry, dear. Every night I prayed for your memories to return, as I do for the people of Ilma, the Water Priestesses.”
“Ineedto find out who they were. Was there ever any news about my birth certificate?”
“Unfortunately, no. The records departments in Sand wrote back. There were no certificates with the surname Wildheart. There was one CordeliaSomethingbut she was born the same year you arrived here, so obviously that couldn’t have been you.”
“So nothing, not even a letter, perhaps, asking for some girl that could have been me?”
She shook her head. “No, I would have told you if there were.”
“I wonder where they were cremated, what their names were, what they looked like. The thoughts haunt me constantly.”
“I really wish I had the answers for you, my dear. None of the cremation cemeteries around here had sandstones carved with the surname Wildheart. Perhaps one day, the Water Priestesses would be freed and they would heal you. You’ll finally remember.” It was not the first time she said those words to me. They felt like they were the only solace she could ever offer me.
“I don’t think I can be healed like that,” I murmured.
“What makes you say that?” she asked, raising her voice.
I couldn’t tell her that I’d hadsomeonehealing my head, twice actually. Once, when I faked a headache, the other, after Mounir’s nightmare. I realised I was staring into nothing.
“Delia, I’ve never told you this because I was told not to. But you are a grown woman now and I don’t see why it should be kept from you.”
“What?” I breathed. Did she know something about me, about them, all this time?
“It was Martin Seid who brought you here that night. He worked as a stableman at the Sand Castle, but after he brought you here, he visited that same Sunday, and every Sunday after that. He stopped coming once you left.”
Oh, that.
“Yes, Martin told me that already, on our journey towards the castle. But Martin wasn’t there when it happened. He said some elderly man handed me over to him and told him that he had no idea who I was, only that I was in an accident and injured my head…and that my parents…it’s like there’s no trace of them, no information that could lead me back to my roots.”
“What will you do, then? Search all of Kalnar? It’s not safe out there, people are desperate. Perhaps you should return to the castle, Delia.”
“I cannot go back.”
“Why not?”
“It’s—it’s complicated.”
“Does this have anything to do with that Silchan prince? The one who donated the Graind Races prize? I heard that you were his servant, and for the first time ever, the donations were given to us.” Her voice softened. “You had something to do with it, didn’t you?”
“I was surprised to find the front door in such a state.”
“Funny, Delia, but I decided to use the coin to fill our reservoir with precious water rather than refurbish the place. And you didn’t answer my question.”
“I’m here because of me. Because I need to know. I’ll consider returning to the castle, but before I do, can I please stay here, just for a few days?”
“Two days. You can stay in the guest bedroom. I’m sorry I cannot offer you a longer stay, but in three days’ time, two acolytes will be volunteering. They will be staying with us for a few months.”
“Two days will do. Thank you.”
