Citadel of Shadows

Chapter Eight

Alamora

I made Anae stay outside of Cassara's tent. She'd protested heavily, but I reasoned with her that I needed to learn these things alone. At least for now. My mother had begrudgingly accepted this and let me go inside alone.

It was nigh on pitch black, save for a single candle flickering in the back of the tent. Cassara sat there, eyes dark and solemn. I could feel the presence of her god, but he was not speaking through her yet. I stepped forward, producing the papers from Amaris. She rose and took them, gaze darting over the words swiftly. She narrowed her eyes at the same one I wasn't able to decipher. She set them all aside, before looking towards me once more.

"Sit."

I obeyed her assertive tone and placed myself in the chair across from her original spot, which she occupied yet again. Cassara continued to stare, before her eyes shifted to silver.

"You're starting to remember, aren't you? Tell me everything."

And I did, not sparing any detail. I saw her blanch at points, but she remained stoic and unreadable. After I told her everything, she let out a sigh.

"There's one thing you are forgetting, little one."

I tilted my head, before leaning back and going through what I had recalled. I was wondering who the woman was, but it didn't seem important. I knew what had happened and how I got my scars, why I had forgotten it all.

"There is a part of me that is scared to tell you. I-I..."

Cassara inhaled, before looking through her things and revealing a painting. She looked at it with sorrow and apprehension. When she turned it towards me, I could see why.

It was of me. I was young, perhaps five years of age. A round face with violet eyes and dark curls, with dimpled cheeks. I reached out and touched it, before glaring at Cassara.

"Why do you have this? Why is there a portrait of me?"

She didn't answer as she set it down, tucking it back into the shadows. There was an odd feeling in the air as she sat back down, fingers tangling over and over. She finally settled and I could see that she was having a debate with her god. There was a pause and her features were filled with resignation.

"I did not wish to tell you, but...."

A sigh.

"Alamora, you are the daughter of Queen Xamaria."

"What?"

I knew what she said, but I could not understand it. There was no way that someone like Xamaria would produce an heir. Not even if her supposed advisors claimed that it was the way for her family line to keep going. I shook my head, disbelieving.

"There's no way, she..."

I felt my heart drop as it finally clicked. I was Xamaria's daughter, the heir to a legacy steeped with the blood of the innocent. I let myself fall back into my chair and I put my hand to my mouth, tears falling without my wanting them to. Cassara moved beside me and traced the sigil on my palm, her touch burning. It was divine in nature, I knew that now. I reached out with shaky fingers and gripped the rough fabric of her robe. The texture brought up a memory, blocked away to keep me sane.

I did remember a lady in grey, one that had protected me when she could and helped rebellions. She had also been the one to take me from the castle and to the safety of the Citadel border. She had saved my life and her she was.

"You...saved..."

I wrapped my arms around her and squeezed her tightly, not able to articulate what she had done for me and how grateful I was. She returned the hug, her skin fading from white-hot to a normal warmth. Cassara pulled away and sat back, taking my hand once more.