“Do you know who I am?” (gimmie that lissa angst)
Why would she? Lissa couldn’t even remember what she’d last ate that day. Or anything, really. Surprisingly, she wasn’t as troubled as one might expect from her newfound amnesia. Hadn’t she met someone like that recently? She could handle it, too. At least, that’s what she tried to tell herself. Maybe seeing someone who knew her would be enough of a retrieval cue, and, from that, would come total recall. Her memories couldn’t just have gone and vanished.
Lissa felt a tad intimidated by that delicate voice, just as fancy as the lady’s dress. Wow, she looked like such a prim and proper duchess! How could she even compare to that? She had no doubts that the duchess could easily grow weary of their exchange and leave her in the dust. She didn’t want that. This lady clearly knew who she was, and, if she so willed it, she could supply that direly needed knowledge. But if she didn’t ….
No. Lissa didn’t want to consider it.
“Oh, please don’t be mad at me! I forgot your name, okay? And, uh, what house you’re from! But that’s it! If you just tell me that, I’ll probably remember!”