"MY FATHER WAS A CLOCKMAKER—" said Corazón, "at least that's what I was told."
"What you were told?" Rafel quietly inquisitioned; he didn't mean to interrupt.
Cora clutched onto the pillow in her arms to her chest; folded in on herself on the couch. She went on. "Yeah. I am adopted. I suppose I should've led with that first. My parents are a Baron and a Baroness, back in Titans Landing. They say they know nothing of my real mother, but my father died on some foggy day years ago. I was rescued from the Orphanage of the Martyr's Grace."
How convenient Rafel thought; that whomever wiped her mind carefully removed all possible ties to her past, so that even if she went looking, Cora would only meet dead-ends.
A dead father?
A disappeared mother?
A forsaken child?
