Chapter 40
After breakfast, Selmira and I took a stroll towards the stable. With the sun fully risen and the bells tolling at a crescendo, nostalgia washed over me like a warm blanket. The curious children’s laughter, too, stirred whispers of old, innocent memories.
Later that morning, I sat on the guest bed, legs crossed. I placed the books and maps to my left, sewing material at my front, and to my right, the blemished Sand Warrior uniforms.
I had more than once wondered what it would feel like to be a Sand Warrior, to deserve wearing that uniform.
It was simple and elegant, yet the white shirt with the high ruffled collar and the tight camel-brown trousers made it seem bold and daring.
And now, I was putting on that same shirt like a true imposter.
I noticed that it had a vertical tear, starting from my underarm.
The memory of myself handing Aegir his fixed shirt appeared to me uninvited. Followed by the one where he growled at me, ice dagger at my throat. The same throat he then had the audacity to claim.
“Never,” I scoffed. Such a fool to have believed him. Now, he was within guarded walls, three days into the conceiving ritual, doing to Princess Maryam what he had promised he would do to me.
Shaking the thought away, I focused on the tear in my shirt, forcibly ignoring the one in my heart. It was messy. I had to cut the shirt’s sides to create new seams. That’s when the idea hit me…
I cut openings along both sides of the shirt. Then I sewed rectangular pieces of fabric, the same size as the slits, creating hidden pockets.
As I worked, I thought about what I wanted to do. About what I needed to do. I often glanced at the maps, my eyes always finding the Depths and the Falls.
I had earlier read that the Wrathwater Depths were a sea of strong currents with fierce and turbulent waves. A sea of destruction and promised death. It made what I needed to do seem even more daunting.
Maybe there’s a bridge.
I added decorative flaps of lacy fabric along the slits and fastened them with buttons. Then I cut a long piece of rectangular fabric to form a waist sash, thick enough to hide my pockets and tight enough to hold small weapons.
If I were to travel by myself, I’d have to be cautious, and more importantly, be able to defend myself.
For a person who had lived in an orphanage and later confined within the walls of a castle, I was caught off guard multiple times.
Memories of Mounir, the Phoenix, and the bearded man from Dunehaven seeped through my mind, stoking my fear.
It was dark by the time I was done sewing, and despite rushing the last few pieces of clothing, I was quite pleased with the overall outcome.
After dinner, I lay in bed, forcing my mind to stop thinking about him.
To start thinking about my enigmatic journey.
To get to Mistgeil Island was not an easy mission.
And would I take Cinnamon with me? I didn’t want to attract attention and even more so, I didn’t want to put her in harm’s way.
After all that she’d endured, I couldn’t risk her. Never her.
Perhaps by foot would be more fitting. I’d be able to hide myself better and besides, the border was not as far as I had initially thought.
Then another idea hit me.
I could still involve the waterways into the equation. I could make my journey towards Mistgeil Island through the wide passages of the waterways. I would remain concealed below ground, then exit somewhere in Ilma, somewhere close to Riptide Falls.
Was I really going to do this? Was I really capable of venturing to the forbidden and forgotten land?
Then I begged and persuaded my brain to allow me to sleep. Tomorrow was a big day.
“Thank you for letting me stay. And thank you for the food and water,” I told Selmira, giving her a small smile.
“Have you figured out where you need to go?”
“I have.” I looked at her with pleading eyes before asking, “I need you to keep her for now. Where I’m going, horses aren’t suitable.”
“May I ask where this place is?”
“I cannot say. I’m sorry, but this is between me and myself. I hope you can understand that.”
“You were always different, you know. From the others. Curious and clever. Don’t ever change, my sweet Delia,” she told me, caressing my face.
“I hope to see you soon,” I said, to both Selmira and Cinnamon.
“I wish for you to find what you’re looking for—what you have been looking for, all this time.”
“Thank you. For everything.” I said, giving Selmira a tight hug.
Then I went to say a heart-aching goodbye to Cinnamon. I nuzzled my teary face, wrapping my arms around her neck. She was always so curious to see what was inside my bag.
“All right, all right.” I opened my bag and split an apple in two, then gave half to each mare.
I went through what I had packed—waterskins, food, compass, maps, clothes, blanket, book, and pieces of fabric.
I felt my shirt’s hidden pockets—necklace, coin, and green box to the left, two maps and the pocket flame to the right.
And on each side beneath the sash, I carried a small dagger.
I headed west, using the Kalnar Tower as my anchor and the sun and compass as my guides.
I readied my arm whenever encountering passersby, which to my surprise, wasn’t that frequent.
The few people who crossed my path turned out to be frail and harmless.
Most just nodded their lowered heads, avoiding my gaze.
Perhaps the bow strapped to my back and the uniform I was wearing had something to do with their wariness.
The cratered, grainy road was steep, yet I never stopped for too long.
Only to have a few quick bites and to moisten my chapped lips with small sips of water.
With certainty, I knew that if I hadn’t trained for hours every morning for the past weeks, I wouldn’t have been able to make it all the way up to the peak.
The view from this vantage point was astonishing.
The sun was setting right in front of me, the sky decorated with fiery hues of purple, orange, and pink.
It complemented the stretch of dry, amber terrain, scattered with silhouettes of towering forks of cacti that stood like sentinels.
To my left was the shadow of the Wellspring Bridge, seen from afar.
To my right, I could make out a faint skyline, outlining the jagged desert houses—a small village on the outskirts of Kalnar.
A quiet ache settled in me as my once-planned destination seemed to watch me go.
I headed downhill towards the oasis. Towards my entrance to Ilma.
I would reach it by tomorrow. But first, I needed to rest. A sheltered crevice in a mesa would do, for as long as I was concealed.
I covered myself with the smallest blanket and used my bag as a pillow.
I squeezed my eyes shut, begging my thoughts to drift elsewhere, to think of anything but him.
But how could I think of anything else when I could still feel the touch of his supple hand exploring my body and the taste of his thick tongue filling my mouth?
I didn’t sleep much. Many times I drifted off only to jerk up, dagger clenched in my hand.