Questioning

"Are... are you sure?" I asked hesitantly, my eyes wide with shock.
"Yes," she said, rolling her eyes, "I'm sure I'd be able to recognize a powerful Shaill when I see one, considering I have one myself."
"Okay, okay." I said, surprised at how annoyed she sounded in this situation.
She sighed. "I just don't know how this could be... these are definitely something that humans would never find lying around. It doesn't make any sense... unless.,." she paused, and looked at me with a calculating look in her eyes. "no. Nevermind."
"What?!?" I demanded, annoyed. I hate it when people do that!
Azara, though, had walked over to the book and was flipping through the pages slowly. I had dropped it, apparently, probably during the little, ahem, breakdown that I had earlier. I sat cross-legged on my bed, watching her go through the book, looking at each page with narrowed eyes. The pages were slightly moldy and looked hard to read, but Azara didn't seem to be having any trouble.
“I’m trying to see,” she said suddenly, sensing my eyes on her, “if there are any clues where this book came from.”
“It’s from my parents.” I sighed. I had told her that before.
“Yes,” the faery sighed back, “but if we know where this came from, we know where your parents came from, and we know a little more on how they got the book and…” she glanced at the circlet, which she had gently slid from its shallow compartment onto the floor, “that. That’s the weirdest thing.” she stared at it for a while, than turned back to the book, turning paper quickly with a soft whispering sound and once in a while saying things quietly to herself, looking confused. She stopped on one page, reading quickly, with a sharp intake of breath.
I sat, impatient, waiting.
“This doesn’t make any sense.” She breathed. She looked at me carefully, uncertainty in her eyes. She looked back at the book. At the gem. At me. I exhaled slowly, then looked into my eyes, “Margarite.”
“Y-yes?” I stammered nervously. Her eyes had an intense look in them, though widened in surprise and confusion.
“Why does Sora stay with you?”
“Huh?” that was rather unexpected. What did Sora have to do with anything? “I don’t know. I rescued him from captivity, some weirdo liked to capture and keep exotic looking birds, and he just sort of latched on to me.”
“How old were you when your adoptive parents found you?”
“A baby.”
“Your adoptive parents, they just accepted you immediately?”
“Yeah, sort of.”
She fired another question at me. A bullet. It hit me hard.
“Where’s your birthmark?”
My birthmark? How did she know? “On my shoulder.” I said quietly. The strange mark on my left shoulder, that looked strangely like a flower. No one had seen it, because it stood out so much, I went through great means to keep it hidden. Why was she asking me these things? “Azara, what’s going on?” I demanded, fear and frustration covering my words.
“This doesn’t make any sense…” Azara repeated, “Unless your parents were fae, Margarite.”