I am determined to be a different kind of father. A different kind of king.
“Ready, Princess?” I ask, tucking the dragon under my arm and straightening Amarynth’s little dress—a confection of purple silk that perfectly matches her eyes. Maya chose it this morning, before leaving for her meeting with the Omega Rights Commission.
“Da!” Amarynth declares, patting my cheek with her free hand, the wooden horse still clutched firmly in the other.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
We make our way through the palace corridors, nodding to guards and servants who have all grown accustomed to the sight of their king with a purple-eyed child perched on his hip. Some still look startled when I stop to let Amarynth examine a particularly interesting tapestry or to explain—as if she understands—the historical significance of a statue we pass.
“That’s your great-grandfather,” I tell her as we pause before a stern-faced portrait. “He wasn’t a very nice man, but he did unify the northern provinces, which was important for trade routes and regional stability.”
Amarynth studies the portrait with surprising intensity before declaring, “No!” with emphatic disapproval.
“My thoughts exactly.” I kiss the top of her head, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair—powder and something uniquely her. “You’re going to be smarter than all of us, aren’t you?”
She babbles a response that I take as wholehearted agreement.
Maya is already seated for lunch when we arrive late. She looks up as we enter, her face lighting with a smile that still makes my heart skip.
"There are my favorite people," she says, rising to greet us.
"Ma!" Amarynth squeals, launching herself from my arms with such force that I nearly drop her. Fortunately, Maya is prepared, catching our daughter and spinning her in a circle that elicits peals of delighted laughter.
"Hello, my little monster," Maya says, pressing kisses to Amarynth's flour-streaked cheeks. "Have you been terrorizing the palace while I was gone?"
"Only Lord Devin," I reply, leaning in to steal a kiss of my own. "She bit him during council."
Maya's eyes widen in mock horror. "Amarynth! We've talked about this. Biting is unsanitary."
"Ba!" Amarynth agrees solemnly.
"Exactly." Maya nods, settling on the bench with our daughter in her lap. "Did he at least deserve it?"
I sit beside them, stretching my legs out in front of me. "He suggested—again—that she should remain in the nursery during council meetings. Said she was too young to understand proper behavior."
"So she demonstrated her understanding by biting him?" Maya laughs, the sound like music in the quiet garden.
"It was a more effective form of communication than anything I'd managed to that."
Maya just shakes her head. "You're going to regret all this indulgence when she's past puberty and never grew out of her biting phase."
"If she always picks such appropriate targets, I doubt it."
Maya just watches as I begin to feed Amarynth bits of food from my own plate. I cut the tender fish into tiny morsels, making sure each piece is perfect before offering it to our daughter. Amarynth accepts each bite with solemn concentration, her purple eyes never leaving my face as if studying how to properly eat like royalty.
"You're spoiling her again," Maya says, but there's fondness in her voice rather than criticism.
"I'm not spoiling her," I object, wiping a smudge of sauce from Amarynth's chin. "I'm ensuring the future queen of Melilla develops sophisticated taste buds."
Maya's laugh is soft but holds a hint of something more complex. She watches us for a moment longer before asking, "Does it ever bother you?"
"What?" I ask, distracted by Amarynth's attempt to grab the entire plate.
"That she isn't biologically yours."
The question catches me off guard. Maya rarely brings up Amarynth's origins—the fertility clinic, the genetic testing thatconfirmed she wasn't related to any of us, the unanimous decision to claim her as our own.
I set down my fork and place my hands over Amarynth's tiny ears. Her purple eyes widen with delight at this new game.
