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AMIRA
The drive was long. The truck rolled with only a minimal disturbance along the highway. I welcomed the chance to have a companion for once. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a real conversation with anyone.
I sat with my back against the side of the crate. I had no idea what position the gorgonian was in, but I imagined him sitting with his back pressed to the same spot from the inside. If the crate wasn’t there, we’d be back to back. Like friends.
He’d called me that, didn’t he? He’d called me his friend.
I’d never had a friend, other than Radax. But caring for me brought nothing but abuse to him. In the menagerie, it was best not to have any friends. It was best not to care for anyone, either.
The gorgonian interrupted my gloomy thoughts. “Tell me about yourself.”
I exhaled a short, nervous laugh. “There isn’t much to tell.”
“What’s your name?”
I’d never introduced myself to him, had I? It felt safer somehow to be a nameless, faceless person who could slink back into the shadows at any moment and disappear without a trace. Names were records—footprints left in memory. A name made a person real when I preferred to remain a shadow.
I hesitated, the silence between us growing longer. Once again, the gorgonian was the one to break it.
“My name is Kyllen,” he said. “Son of the High Lord of Ellohi Court in the Wetlands of Lorsan in the Kingdom of Nerifir.”
That was the longest name I’d ever heard. Mine seemed practically non-existent in comparison.
“I’ll never remember it whole,” I muttered under my breath.
He laughed—a genuine, hearty sound that pleasantly resonated through my chest. “Please, just call me Kyllen. That’s what my friends and family call me. The rest are just titles and lands.”
“Kyllen.” I tested the sounds of his name. I liked how smoothly it slipped off my tongue. It sounded both sleek and strong.
“Will you tell me your name now?” he coaxed sweetly. And I couldn’t deny him any longer. He’d given me his name. It was only fair I gave him mine.
“I’m Amira.”
“Amira,” he drawled. “It’s a beautiful name. It makes me think of a flower.”
Flower?
I smiled.
The meaning of my name was “princess” in Arabic or “treetop” in Hebrew, as I had learned from a wooden plaque sold in a merchant stall at a fair years ago. The woman selling the name plaques complete with their meanings had also told me that the direct translation of my name was “one who speaks,” which was ironic because I spoke little.
Come to think of it, I’d probably said more words to Kyllen today than I would normally say to anyone in an entire month.
“Where are you from, Amira?” he asked.
I rubbed my forehead. That was a question I really had no answer for.
Radax said he took me from a street ruined by bombings while the menagerie traveled in the Middle East. I’d seen a map of the Middle East and learned that the region included many countries. He didn’t remember which one it was where he found me.
Brackslived for many centuries. Their memory mostly retained information relevant to Madame and their service to her. My past wasn’t relevant for Radax to remember the details. I didn’t blame him. I hardly remembered all the places we’d been to here in North America myself.
For years, I’d tried to figure out where I came from. I watched people at every fair we’d been to. I listened to their conversations for the mentions of the countries they came from or had visited. I compared the color of their eyes, hair, and skin to those of my own, searching for my countrymen, my tribe, my home.
I wondered if I might be from Syria or Israel. Could I be from a Jewish family that came from Europe or Russia? Had I been a visitor to the region because my skin was so pale—”like a ghost?” Though my name suggested the region might’ve been my home.
Deep inside, I realized I might never get the answer. There was no way to confirm anything. I would never learn what street I’d been standing on the day Radax found me. I’d never know who were the dead people around me. I’d never know where my home was.
“I don’t know,” I exhaled softly. “I don’t know where I’m from.”
“You don’t?” he sounded confused. “But where is your family? Your parents?”
My parents belonged to the world that only came to me in nightmares now. It was full of darkness, ruined buildings, deafening explosions, and bodies half-buried by rubble. It came from what Radax had told me about the place he’d found me. I had no clear memories of that part of my life. Which was probably a blessing.
“My parents are dead,” I said.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he replied somberly.
I decided to pre-empt any further questions in that area. “They died when I was little. I don’t remember them or anyone from my family.”
My family, my neighbors, the life I was meant to have were all gone. Maybe I should’ve been gone, too. And often it felt like I actually had. Only a shadow of me remained in this world, always hiding and always silent.
“How old are you, Amira?” Kyllen asked again.
It was impossible to remain silent when he asked me questions. Though this was another one I couldn’t really answer.
“I’m not sure,” I said.
“How so?”
“Radax thinks I was between three to five years old when he found me. That was twenty years ago.”
Bracksrarely paid attention to human children, even at the fair. Radax admitted he might be inaccurate in his estimation of my age.
“So young,” Kyllen exhaled.
“How old are you?”
“Seventy-eight. Well, I was seventy-eight when I was taken. I’m not entirely sure how long I’ve been in this cursed box,” he grumbled, shifting inside the crate. The chains clunked as he adjusted his position.
“Seventy-eight?” I knew bracks were immortal. Many of them had lived for centuries. But seventy-eight sounded so human. “Are gorgonians immortal?”
“No. The fae life span is about five hundred years.”
“So, you’re a fae, then?”
“Yes, just like everyone who lives in Nerifir.”
“I’ve never met anyone from Nerifir before, except for bracks, of course.”
But bracks normally didn’t remember their life before Madame. Radax had told me about the sister he’d lost. Her death was the only thing he remembered from before Madame had made him the brack. He said I reminded him of his little sister when he first saw me. I believed that was the reason he’d saved my life and had been looking after me ever since.
