Page 62 of Dark Prince's Captive

She turns her face back to me, watching me with a wary light in her turquoise eyes.“Why do you ask?”

“Because I’m interested,” I admit.“I’d really like to know.”

She drops her hands in her lap and sighs.“Someone found an abandoned baby in a park.That baby was me.I was brought to a hospital and entered the foster care system, where I was swiftly put up for adoption.My parents couldn’t have children, so there you have it.”

Abandoned in a park.

I want to draw blood.To kill someone.Suppressing the explosive rage, I keep my voice level.“Did anyone try to locate your biological parents?”

“Of course.The authorities put out notices and checked hospital records for deliveries that had taken place during my estimated birth year.”

I’m trying hard to follow, the concepts she’s mentioning being strange to me.

“However—” She cuts herself off, clearly not wanting to say that they always came up empty-handed because it’s another point in favor of the fact she’s still denying.

“I did wonder about that often,” she finally admits.“But I figured it must’ve been a home birth or some such.Either way, if my biological parents didn’t want me, I didn’t want to find them.”She continues with a wry laugh, “Not that I had the energy to search for them.”

Everything she’s saying is proving me right and her wrong about her true identity.Her biological parents didn’t abandon her.She was stolen from them.Yet that fact doesn’t help to soothe her.On the contrary, talking about it upsets her.

Wanting to calm her, I point out the positive parts of the history she shared with me.“From what you told me, your adoptive parents were good to you.They did everything in their power to make you happy.”

Her expression brightens a little.“That’s true.”

Since talking about her origins upsets her, I change the subject.“When your parents didn’t keep you busy, what did you do with your time?”

She sits up straighter.“There were my studies.”

I’m intrigued.“Studies?”

“I’m in college.”

That tells me nothing.I know a little about Earth’s history, thanks to my mother’s lessons.Everything else, including the facets of modern-day life on that planet, is never discussed.

Still, I try to follow along.“And you do your studies in this college?”

“I take all kinds of classes, likeGreek Litandanthropology.”

She’s speaking her language instead of mine.

At my confused frown, she explains, “You know, to learn about ancient civilizations.”

That’s a bit clearer.“For what purpose?”

“It’s always been my dream to become an archeologist or a paleontologist.”Her smile is meant to be nonchalant, but it doesn’t fool me.“Oh, don’t get me wrong.I had no illusions about actually working in the field.I knew that would be impossible with all my health problems, but I wanted to get my degree at least.”

I don’t know what degree she’s talking about, but I’m guessing it’s important.And not easy to obtain.“What does an archeologist do?”

“They dig up the remains of bygone eras.”

Odd.“For what reason?”

“To have an idea of how life was back then.”

“Why?”

She makes an impatient sound.“Because it’s interesting.Exciting.Because it teaches us how the world used to be, that it’s so much older and bigger than just our self-centered little selves.”

“I see.”I’m charmed.My smile stretches.“What’s your favorite Earth era?”

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