“Well, this is good and awkward, isn’t it?” Commander Maxwell said as Brynna and I stared each other down, her eyes unblinking, intense, seeing into me easily, and mine blinking, tearing away, coming back to the eyes that suddenly looked identical to mine, and tearing away again. There was no way. It wasn’t possible. Rachel and Tom DiAngelo were my parents; they had made me, and this girl—or woman, whatever she was—was making up this story because…
But I couldn’t come up with a reason why she would make up such a story. Surely she would not joke about being my mother when my real mother had only just died. Surely, she couldn’t be that cruel. But then, I had seen her cruelty, but then, she only wielded her cruelty on people like Sylvie, people who threatened her…
And we shared a gift, didn’t we? Neither my mother nor my father had been Athenes, though they had always told me that my gift needed to be kept a secret, and they had always known so much about it.
“Grace,” Commander Maxwell said, taking my hand, “I don’t want to be your father, I just want to be your friend.”
“What?!” I asked, totally incredulous, completely exasperated already. Plus, that was an Earthean joke, or maybe it was just a saying, as Brynna would explain to me later. It was the common sentiment shared with stepchildren by step-parents when the two met for the first time, so that the child did not feel like the stepparent was trying to steal a paternal or maternal role from the rightful paternal or maternal party.
God, I even think like her, even today.
He walked back to Brynna, tapped her twice on the butt lightly just as he kissed her forehead.
“This is all you, baby.” He kissed her head again, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Excuse you, James Maxwell, but you are not getting out of this that easily!” She snapped at him, “And besides, I need you to take us to Adam.”
“Adam?!” I asked, “You mean the King?”
“Yes, the King.” She repeated with a very exaggerated roll of her eyes, “My husband. Your father. Wouldn’t you like to meet the other half of your biological parentage?”
“No!” I exclaimed.
“Well, too bad. Now that we have met, I am sure your father would very much like to meet you. He is far kinder than me, and he is far better at coping with awkward situations such as this.”
James stared at her, and she stared back.
“True.” He conceded, and with that, we began our walk towards the former King’s cell.