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I take the familiar trek toward home, my purse full but my soul empty. I need answers, deserve answers, deserve to know who I truly am and where I come from. And no matter how soundly Gram protests, I need her to tell me.Now.
The sound of the coin pouch dropping on the table startles Gram and she turns around, her humming stopping abruptly.
“Oh, Milla, I didn’t hear you come in. Sounds like you had a productive day, and the day is still young at that. Good for you.” She hums her cheery tune a few more seconds and then glances at me again. “Did you not buy any rations, child? Where is the food?”
“Gram, we need to talk,” I say. “And it cannot wait a moment longer.”
Gram folds her arms across her chest and leans back in her chair. I’ve done this before, thrown myself into a room like a wolf is at my heels, demanding to know my sir name, my mother’s name, anything at all really about who I am. I’m sure my dramatics are wearing on her nerves by now, but I will not back down this time. I need to know who I really am, once and for all. And this time, I will not yield.
“All right,” she replies. “Out with it. I’m listening.”
“Who am I?” I ask. “I need to know who I am.”
Gram sighs. “Have we not been over this, Milla? I’ve told you—”
“You’ve told me nothing!” I slap a hand on the table. “I’ve lived twenty seasons. I’m a woman now, not a child that you need to protect. And I need to know who I am. I’m begging you, Gram. Tell me something. Anything. Please.”
This is usually the moment when Gram gets upset and reminds me that she’s raised me from the time I was a babe, and that she is my family. And that’s true. But Gram did not spring from nothing. Somewhere out there is a family that Gram was once a part of—that Ishould bea part of. I look into her eyes, unwilling to blink. I need her to see how much this means to me.
“Please, Gram,” I add. “I need to know. My nothingness in this wretched world is ripping me to shreds.Please.”
Gram reaches up and touches the edge of my hair. “Hers was the same color.” Her eyes are on my face but looking well beyond it. She is faraway and distant.
“Who’s hair, Gram?” I ask.
“Your mother’s.”
Every nerve in my body is standing on end. She has never refenced my mother before. Not once. She has said that she was my maternal grandmother, but she’s never saidyour mother. I feel the tears in my eyes before they land on my cheeks.
“She had flames for hair,” she continues, “and eyes so azure they shamed the seas. Her skin was fair, like milk and froth. Her lips were as red as velvet roses wet with dew. She was kind and strong. And I loved her, with every breath in my soul. My was my only daughter.” Gram looks me in the eyes this time, making sure I’m listening. “You are the spit of your mother, her doppelganger. For that, I am forever grateful. And she loved you beyond measure.”
“Is she still alive?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
Gram clears her throat. “No, child. She is not. And that is all I will say. I have said too much already, so we will speak no more of it.”
She stands again, heading back to the apothecary, but I’ll not have it.
“I need to know more, Gram! What was my mother’s name? Did she die during childbirth with me? Where is my father? I need to know.”
Gram is resolute. “You need nothing. You have everything you need here with me. I have cared for you your entire life. Do you truly believe I would do something to hurt you with intention? If I were free to divulge our lineage, don’t you know that I would do so? Your happiness has always meant everything to me.”
I take a fortifying breath. “Treena humiliated me in front of Jordy today. She is a vile, nasty, toad of a person, but at least she knows who she is. Her family tree branches the expanse of our entire village. No matter her wickedness, she has roots, knowledge of her house. She has memories. I deserve memories, Gram, and yet, you will not share them with me.”
Her mouth turns down, the deep creases in her face narrowing. “It’s not that I won’t tell you, Milla…it’s that I can’t. I have to do what’s best for you, and you have to allow me to do it.”
I hear her words, but my heart won’t accept them. I say the words out loud instead that haunt me deep into the night. “Does anyone miss me?”
Gram’s shoulders sag and she touches my arm. “Once upon a time, yes. But not anymore.”
I nod and look away. There is so much I want to know about my lineage, a fire in my belly that can’t be squelched. I have to be more than this, need to be more than a peddler on the streets, day after day and season after season. I step out of our cottage for some fresh air, the thatched walls suddenly smothering me. I glance out into the distance, the top of the castle in full view beyond the market square. I wonder again about life in the castle. I’ve never been inside the castle walls, never been to court like the rich young maidens in Timberness. I long to see the grandeur, the absolute splendor. I want to see more than life as a peasant. Maybe there is a way that I can be more than a beggar.
“Gram,” I say, running back through the front door. “I have an education, can read and barter, and I’m extremely well-spoken. You have been an excellent teacher.”
“Yes, on every account,” Gram replies. “And you are stating the obvious, why?”
“Because maybe one day I could work in the castle. I could be a palace washer woman, or a cook. I could even be a handmaiden. And you could come with me. You’re an excellent healer—”
The color drains from Gram’s face, her eyes scanning mine like she’s looking for the venom she needs to suck out. “Where is this coming from, child? Your words are poison. And you will never work in the palace. It is absolutely forbidden. To hear such talk from you is beyond painful. It will never happen. Do you understand?”
