"I love you, Flindra, but you are not the daughter of my body, but the child of my heart."
Flindra reached for Dakra and touched her on the sleeve. "Momma, are you saying that I'm adopted?" she questioned in a whisper. She was shocked to hear her mother's words. "Why have you never told me before?"
"Flindra, if it were as simple as you being our adopted child, my heart wouldn’t be crying out in pain. Once you discover your true identity, your fate will take you from here." Dakra sobbed audibly. "That's why we delayed telling you, little one."
"Momma, I'll always be your daughter, adopted or not. I love you." Flindra was crying again and it wasn't from the memory of her father's death.
Dakra took a deep breath to help fortify herself. "If you were merely our adopted child, things wouldn't be so hard now. It’s perhaps more correct to say that we’re your foster family, my dear one. Now it’s time for you to return to your proper place in the world.
"Years ago, an ancient woman crossed our threshold and brought you to us. She told us that the Blessed Spirit had chosen us to care for you. She also told us that you’re the last of the line of King Meldh. You are a princess!"
Flindra looked stunned. "Me a princess! That's ridiculous! I'm so ordinary it's absurd to think of me as being of royal blood. I'm a peasant, Momma."
"No, my little one, don't underestimate yourself. You’re far more than you realize. We’ve all recognized your greatness."
Flindra shook her head. "I'm not all that special," she argued in a whisper.
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