VANDER
There was no better indication of trouble than when my stepmother chose to talk to me over her real son. My stomach formed a knot before I took a single step, reminding me that I was apparently still open to feeling things.
I stayed behind her, slowly maneuvering the wheelchair, although I was unsure what to say. What was I supposed to say to someone who lost their legs because of me?
Supposedly. The blame wasn’t hard to take, but I wondered how distressing it must have been for her.
“Have you had breakfast?” Lady Ambessa asked suddenly.
I shook my head, then realized she couldn’t see me. “Not yet.” I was more than ready to refuse any invitations for a family breakfast.
I was the last person my father wanted to see, and I shared the same sentiment.
“Good,” she said and said
