As the morning wore on, I found myself deep in conversation with several heirs who had known my parents. Their stories painted a picture of the people I couldn't remember, my father's legendary strength tempered by unexpected kindness, my mother's fierce intelligence and diplomatic skill.
"Your mother once negotiated a peace treaty that had failed for three generations," a young woman named Elise told me, her eyes bright with admiration. "She found the compromise no one else could see."
"And your father," added a tall heir named Marcus, "once shifted into his wolf form and carried an injured pup fifteen miles through a blizzard when vehicles couldn't get through."
Each story was a precious gift, filling in the blank spaces where my memories should have been. Through their words, my pare
