Page 39 of Under the Lion Star

“Did you ever see one?” I asked. “When you were down in Krannar?”

“Yeah,” Leor smiled, looking out at the mountains in the distance. “We were on the southwestern coast barricading the trade route between Krannol and a bunch of tiny human villages. It was swelteringly hot, and this female lion lay on a rock maybe twelve yards from where Atlas and I stood. She looked exhausted, and there were three cubs just going at it. They were biting one another and rolling around. I couldn’t help but laugh at their tiny growls. Their mom heard, lifted her head, and looked right at me before slumping back down onto the rock, writing me off as no threat.”

Leor looked down at the crown in his hands.

“It seemed symbolic. A mom and three cubs. Then, upon hearing my laugh, a fourth one peeked out over the tall grasses, his fur a slightly different color than the others.”

“Liras,” I smiled.

“Yeah,” Leor turned to me with a wide grin. “I don’t know what I believe in. Maybe that makes me a heathen. I don’t go out of my way to find symbolism in life, but when it shows up like that, I just sort of let it happen. Let myself take in the comfort it elicits.”

“Maybe I’m a heathen, too,” I nudged him. “Part of me hopes the Gods aren’t real because with how often I curse them, I’ve all but guaranteed myself an eternity in the Underworld with Zyralia.”

“I have a feeling that you and the Goddess of Death would be good friends,” Leor teased.

I laughed and returned my attention to the night sky.

Chapter 11

Leor

Even Zialda’s fury couldn’t have tempered the high I was riding. Orin looked at me. He saw me. It was the most progress I had seen from him since Liras first dragged his body into the castle.

My mind replayed the moment he offered me a scrap of food, calling back to what felt like a different life. Orin had been a picky eater as a child, often setting the bits of food he didn’t want on the edge of my chair. He thought himself sneaky, but my parents were well aware, yet we all went along with it.

I smiled despite myself. My brother was still in there. I had always known it, but now I had proof, a thread to grasp onto and pull with all my might. It was the first time since returning home that I felt hopeful for the future.

The crown still felt wrong in my hands, so I set it on the step at my feet and shifted to face Zialda. She seemed less upset, but I hated that our entire friendship had been built on a lie. One that I left to fester like an undressed wound. The sword at my waist scraped against the stone as my body rotated. I pulled it from the scabbard, ready to be rid of it next to the crown.

“That’s beautiful,” Z whispered, running her fingers over the runes engraved down the length of the blade.

“It’s ceremonial,” I explained, looking at the sword attached to my new title. “It’s too old and brittle to be of any use in battle.”

“It’s human,” she pointed out, noting that the blade lacked the curve most elven swords possessed.

“It was a human king’s,” I answered. “I can’t recall his name; Sanna would know. It was given to my great-grandfather when the first alliance between Fjorn and Krannar was struck centuries ago. My father used to regard the sword as evidence that one day, we’d be allies with the humans once more. How he thought that yet continued to perpetuate the war is beyond me.”

“I can’t imagine it was an easy decision for them,” Z offered softly.

“They didn’t see what I saw,” I shook my head. “Humans, they– they age so differently. It’s more apparent when you’re staring into the eyes of a fresh-faced boy. Someone likely fighting because they had no other prospects in life. Human soldiers are not like Fjornish ones.”

“Leor,” her voice was soft, and I closed my eyes.

“I killed so many,” I kept speaking, unsure how to stop. “Young. Old. None of them responsible for what happened in Haerbor. Some of them could have only been infants when the city fell. So, what was the point in any of it?”

“I don’t know that anyone alive could answer that.”

“I just need to make sure this peace lasts. It’s the one thing I can do to make a real difference for our people.”

“Does the new human king share your sentiment?”

A question that I had often asked myself. King Doran had taken the throne after killing his father. The man who had orchestrated my parents' assassinations and been the one to order the attack on Haerbor. If his son hated him enough to end his life, surely they differed enough that I stood a chance at negotiation.

“I’m to meet with him in a few months,” I shrugged. “I can’t imagine he shares many of the same views as his father did. I am… cautiously optimistic.”

“Just try not to be so grumpy when you meet him,” Z smiled.

“I am not grumpy,” I protested as her eyes danced with mirth. “I’m quiet and mysterious.”

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