They glided over to us, circling. I kept my head down. My heart was thudding painfully. The woman’s voice sounded in my ears, cool and musical. Achingly familiar.
“Who are you?” she asked. I felt the others share a look, full of unspoken words. Then the man spoke. His voice was soft, and it too was familiar.
“Is that who I think…” he murmured. I felt the stare, the point. I felt the woman swim forwards, parting the group. A soft hand brushed my cheek, lifted my chin, and I looked into familiar green eyes, precisely the same shape as my own. She gasped. Her husband glided forwards, hesitantly. He stared into my face, recognising the colour of my eyes, the tone of my hair, and the shape of my face. Little details here and there that made me… me. Crysta. Their daughter. My mother smiled and pulled me to her chest, hugging me tightly. My father’s arms slid around us both, uniting us. I could feel the love from them, the rush of relief and joy that my parents felt, and the confusion pulsing from my friends like a burning heat. Gently, I pushed my parents off and turned to smile at my friends.
“Girls, these are my parents,” I explained. Natalie relaxed, her eyes scanning their faces, recognising them. The others’ expressions softened slightly, and I felt an impatient tug on my fingertips.
“Come,” murmured my mother, before leading me away from my friends.
She led me through the palace, but I kept looking back. I saw the servants herding my friends towards another room. It made me uneasy.