The Great Godmother
again.
Kane was always there with us. He patiently taught Xavier how to fight and shoot, and every night, he’d read him bedtime stories. The way he looked at me was no longer the respectful gaze of a subordinate toward his superior. There was something deeper, one I couldn’t quite understand.
One afternoon, I was working in the study when Kane came in. He set a cup of hot tea by my hand.
“Godmother, you should rest.”
“Call me Pia,” I said, meeting his eyes.